NEC Chapter 21: Farewell and a New Journey  

Lady Frost couldn’t linger long. Under Captain Paven’s repeated urging, she reluctantly ended her rare skeleton-viewing session.  In the Clo

Lady Frost couldn’t linger long. Under Captain Paven’s repeated urging, she reluctantly ended her rare skeleton-viewing session. 

In the Cloudmist Domain’s group, the true decision-makers were Linda, the chief attendant, and Master Locke. Both were strict and rigid, likely to lecture for hours about “impropriety” if the young lady so much as glanced at a roadside wildflower, let alone studied a stranger’s undead skeleton. 

However, on certain days, as devotees of the God of Wisdom, they performed lengthy, intricate prayer rituals, leaving only Paven to watch over the lady. 

Since Lady Frost studied swordsmanship and, like Paven, followed the God of War, this created a brief window of misalignment. 

For her, it was a rare moment of “freedom.” 

The girl was brimming with curiosity about the animated skeleton, and Chen Mo, ever cooperative, had Little White perform a set of calisthenics, making her eyes crinkle into delighted crescents. 

Pleased and in high spirits, Lady Frost decided to bestow a small gift on the apprentice. 

“When I first saw you, you were injured,” she said, casually tossing him a small box with a tone of youthful concern. “Here, take a healing pill. Be more careful from now on.” 

Chen Mo instinctively wanted to decline, but a twitch in Paven’s cheek made him reconsider. 

It must be valuable. 

Whether he used it or not didn’t matter; he could send it back to his homeland as a specialty gift. 

Like a kid waiting for an allowance, he finally had a chance to acquire something rare and elite from this world. Why play coy? 

The box held a delicate pouch containing a knuckle-sized rectangular block, resembling a tiny, translucent white soap bar. 

As he opened it, a refreshing, elegant fragrance wafted out, soothing and invigorating. 

Paven’s face twitched for a moment before he spoke, worried Chen Mo might not grasp its worth. “That’s a fifth-tier healing pill, made with life spring water. It rivals a Life Shepherd’s ability to heal severe wounds. It can save your life. Keep it safe.” 

“Oh, thank you so much!” Chen Mo quickly tucked the pill into his pocket, his mind racing. He pulled out a return gift. 

The girl was generous, and the Chen family of Xia couldn’t fall short. 

A thermite grenade. 

Most of his weapons were one-of-a-kind, but he had two of these. One could be spared for the girl to “play with fireworks.” 

“A small weapon, um… it sprays fire and gets hot. Be careful when using it.” 

After explaining its use and precautions, Paven, with a practiced smile, subtly took the oddly shaped metal lump. His cautious gaze swept over its surface and structure. Detecting no magical aura or runic triggers, he couldn’t discern its purpose and stowed it in his spare weapon pouch. 

Lady Frost waved cheerfully, and the two groups parted ways, each heading toward their own path. 

For Chen Mo, this was a warm interlude on his journey. Now, he needed to focus on training and advancing his mage path. 

Right on time, he boarded a slightly rickety four-wheeled wooden carriage drawn by two horses. The wheels crunched over the dirt road, producing a monotonous rumble. Chen Mo propped his pack behind him, settling into a relatively comfortable position, closed his eyes, and tried to enter a meditative state. 

The aftereffects of forcibly using mental strength pills to activate the Sacrificial Altar still lingered. Based on the altar’s recovery rate, it would take ten days to half a month before he could attempt another bloodline ritual. 

Time waited for no one; he had to push himself to improve. 

The basic meditation technique taught at Black Crow Castle was a common method, grueling to practice, akin to tackling advanced math. 

Chen Mo could only meditate briefly before needing a break, leaning against the window to take in the scenery. 

As the faint morning mist cleared, the unchanging trees outside the window drifted slowly backward. Measuring the distance between trees and timing it with his tactical watch, Chen Mo estimated the carriage’s speed at six to seven kilometers per hour. 

According to the driver, the journey would take eight or nine hours, meaning the distance was at least fifty to sixty kilometers. 

“Clop… clop…” The sharp sound of hooves approached from ahead, growing closer. Unlike other passing riders who sped by, this one slowed upon nearing the carriage and began speaking with the driver. 

They used the Crescent Moon Dynasty’s official tongue, but the content was peculiar. 

First came the driver’s wary question: “Ice-crack paths shun the fire road, black magpies don’t gaze at the sun. What forest bird comes here?” 

The rider’s reply was low and swift: “Winter woods need fresh kindling, sparing the tree, seeking only sprouts.” 

The driver paused, his tone tinged with displeasure. “Whitestone, white leaves, silver linden trees—who dares pluck a sprout?” 

The knight answered quickly: “The tiger roars from the next hill, taking a sprout and offering wine in respect!” 

The exchange ended abruptly. The knight circled the carriage once, then turned back, passing Chen Mo’s open window twice. 

An unremarkable knight in dusty half-leather armor, narrow breeches, and boots, with a long blade strapped to his back. In the fleeting moment their eyes met, his gaze was cold as ice. 

A chill ran through Chen Mo. 

Something felt off. 

The knight had ridden up just to exchange a few words with the driver before turning back—a move that reeked of suspicion. 

Chen Mo replayed their conversation in his mind. The exchange was clearly understood by both, but incomprehensible to him. Was it local slang? 

As a modern Blue Star native, he hadn’t encountered such codes, but novels and shows had plenty. 

“Northwest skies, a lone cloud; a crow lands amid phoenixes!” 

“Sky King covers the earth; the pagoda tames the river demon!” Yes, it had that exact vibe! 

From that angle, their dialogue felt increasingly wrong. 

Having been burned by this world’s harsh realities multiple times, Chen Mo sprang into action. 

He checked his long and short firearms, securing them in easy reach, fastened his stab-proof vest, and slipped on a Kevlar cut-resistant glove on his left hand. He even pulled out the failsafe letter from his homeland, tucking it into his outer pocket with a corner exposed. 

In that moment, he cursed his low skill level. 

If only he had a Black Armor Rider by his side, wielding a blazing Gatling gun, he wouldn’t be so on edge. 

Abandoning meditation, Chen Mo cracked the carriage window, using his goggles’ lens as a rearview mirror. One eye watched ahead, the other behind, nerves taut, waiting. 

The carriage plodded along, the wheels’ grinding over dirt and stone lulling and monotonous. Then, without warning, the carriage veered sharply. With a muffled shout from the driver, it lurched off the smooth road, jolting over roadside gravel and dry grass, plunging into a barren field of sparse trees and tangled weeds before halting in front of a few gnarled, solitary trees. 

“Sorry, milord inside!” the driver’s voice came from outside, laced with feigned panic. “I… I can’t hold it anymore. Gotta relieve myself in the woods! Please wait a bit, I’ll be right back!” 

Chen Mo flung open the curtain just in time to see the driver, hunched over, scrambling toward a dark, dense thicket without looking back, his silhouette like a rabbit fleeing a wolf. 

Almost simultaneously, the sound of rapid, heavy hoofbeats echoed from the road, closing in fast on the desolate field! 

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