NEC Chapter 16: Miraculous Healing  

Paven, seasoned and sharp-eyed, took one glance at the wound and relaxed his furrowed brow. 

"Ordinary arrow, no signs of poison. It's just lodged a bit deep. Shouldn't be a big issue." 

He turned to a guard nearby. "Fetch Master Locke to take a look." 

Minutes later, a white-haired, bleary-eyed old man shuffled over, yawning, his face radiating reluctance. 

After hearing the guard captain's explanation, the old man glanced at Chen Mo's wound and barked at Paven without ceremony, "Pull the arrow!" 

"Alright, brace yourself!" Paven stepped forward. Before Chen Mo could register his movements, a blur passed before his eyes. A force shoved and tugged him, and a searing pain shot through his shoulder, plunging his vision into darkness. 

Instinctively, Little White, reacting to its master's distress, raised its bone spear. 

"Hey, Aunt Linda, look! The skeleton! That bony thing moved! It really moved!" Lady Frost, who had been eyeing Little White like a curious kitten, lit up as if she'd discovered a fascinating toy. Her wide eyes sparkled, and she bounced excitedly, pointing at the skeleton. 

Paven, unfazed by the ordinary skeleton spearman's alert stance, paid it no mind. Amid the throbbing pain, Chen Mo felt a surreal sense of relief. 

Thank goodness for Little White's dim-witted instincts. If that foolish skeleton had pulled out the deadly automatic rifle in this heavily guarded place and fired at the swordsman... 

Whether the swordsman died or not, Chen Mo knew he'd be done for. 

The arrow was yanked out, and blood spurted from the reopened wound. The sleepy old man rubbed a handful of mysterious magical powder between his palms. Soft, hazy white light, like a galaxy gently crushed, spilled from his hands and drifted lightly over Chen Mo's wound. 

A moist, refreshing scent, reminiscent of a forest after rain, brushed across Chen Mo's skin, seeping deep into his flesh. The sharp, twitching pain gradually eased and faded. 

Seconds later, Chen Mo gasped, staring at the dark red scab that had formed over the wound. 

Hesitating, he stammered, "Thank you so much for the healing. How much... how much is the cost?" 

The old man, Locke, ignored him, yawning as he turned to leave. Paven offered a polite, practiced smile. "Just a small effort, no need to worry. You should fully recover in a couple of days." 

"Get some rest." 

The dismissal was clear. 

Chen Mo bowed deeply in gratitude, his gaze briefly catching the delicate young girl nearby before he turned to leave. 

Behind him, he faintly heard the little lady and her attendant muttering complaints, clearly displeased that their "toy" was being taken away. 

Citing his need to recover, Chen Mo declined the centaurs' invitation to join the plaza festival. Kaga escorted him to the entrance of a wood-and-stone building called the Brave Haven Inn. 

As they parted, Chen Mo gave the young centaur a hearty embrace and pressed two silver coins into Kaga's palm without hesitation. 

"Kaga, thank you, truly! You're the best guide I've ever met, and you'll surely become the greatest warrior on the plains!" 

Chen Mo meant every word. Without this stubborn centaur, he'd either have spent the night with an arrow in his shoulder or risked pulling it out himself. 

The thought alone made his scalp tingle. 

Kaga, beaming with pride, eyes curving into crescents, let out a joyful whinny. Clutching the silver coins, he trotted merrily toward the bustling bonfire in the plaza. 

Chen Mo entered the inn, where a waiting attendant greeted him with an eager smile and ushered him inside. 

The Brave Haven Inn carried the worn charm of time. Polished wooden floors, edges slightly curled, creaked underfoot. The air held a faint, intoxicating mix of old books and damp wood. 

The room, though, was impeccably clean. Freshly laundered linen sheets and blankets exuded the crisp scent of sun-dried fabric. 

Three silver coins a night was extravagant for such a modest camp, but with the safety guaranteed by the centaur tribe, Chen Mo felt it was worth every coin. For once, he could sleep without clutching a gun handle or straining his ears all night. 

Yet that night, sleep eluded him, his mind restless. 

Images from the day's chaos, the blood-soaked jungle, the desperate flight down narrow paths, flickered like a grainy, faded film. Little Blondie's greedy, twisted face and Ellie's pale, despairing expression haunted him, alternating in a relentless loop. 

In his dreams, Little Blondie cackled with a sinister "je je je," advancing step by step. Chen Mo, inexplicably paralyzed, watched as the young master swung a blade. A chilling flash, and his leg bone was severed. Strangely, though blood poured from the wound, the bone itself remained stark white, untouched by crimson. 

By some dark magic, Little Blondie twisted the pale bone in his hands, morphing it into a grotesque, evil-looking bone staff radiating malevolence. 

"No!" Chen Mo screamed in his dream, but his throat, clogged as if with mud, produced no sound. 

The scene shifted abruptly, revealing Ellie. 

She was running, yet no matter how her legs pumped, she stayed in place. She glanced back, flashing a sweet smile. "Brother Mo, you're destined for greatness. I can't escape, can't escape." 

Then came Little Eleven, the scout, his face contorted like a rabid beast. He charged, his crossbow firing like a machine gun, raining bolts that pierced Chen Mo like a porcupine. 

"Ha!" 

Chen Mo jolted upright from the nightmare, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding as if it might burst. 

His hand instinctively reached under the pillow, grasping the handgun, its familiar metal warmth and weight calming his racing pulse and taut nerves like a potent sedative. 

Pulling back the window cover, he saw the eastern sky beginning to lighten. Chen Mo rose, packed his belongings, washed up briefly, and, with the ever-dull Little White in tow, headed early to the airship boarding point. 

It was a simple platform at the camp's edge, built from massive logs. 

Then came a bombshell. 

The airship wasn't selling tickets to outsiders. 

Unlike the high-speed trains of Xia Country, where missing one meant catching another in an hour, airships were different. They departed from Whitestone Outpost, across the Gloomy Forest, at the start of each month. Weather permitting, the journey to Six-Leaf Grove took six to eight days, with a week-long stop before returning. 

A round trip, including the layover, took nearly a month. Missing this one could mean death. 

Chen Mo tried explaining his urgency with words and gestures, but the wiry dwarf at the counter ignored him, fiddling silently with a mechanical part of unknown purpose. 

In the distance, the hum of voices, the creak of ropes tightening around the airship's balloon, and the low drone of the warming core pricked at Chen Mo's anxious nerves like countless tiny needles. 

Irritation, like an invisible fog, clouded what should have been a beautiful morning. 

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