Chapter 75 Caravan, Looting

The midday sun baked the sand and gravel until they were scorching hot. Five old-fashioned steam-powered freight cars, fueled by burning coal, chugged along the cracked, uneven road, the black smoke billowing from their exhaust pipes twisted into bizarre shapes by the heat.

Scaled Soil Cracks - A branch road of the Thousand Snakes' Mark.

The place gets its name from the snake-scale-like patterns that cover its ground.

Nick sat on the roof of the lead truck, legs crossed, swirling a bottle of cheap ale in his hand; the liquid gleamed a cloudy gold in the sunlight.

This is a middle-aged man approaching forty.

He was thin, with white cloth wrapped around his face and head to protect him from the sun, leaving almost only his eyes exposed. His brown pupils occasionally flashed with a cunning light that was even more treacherous than that of a goblin.

"See that? That protruding rock face."

Nick pointed with his wine bottle to the desolate land on his right and said, "Three years ago, I led a team and dug up a chest of ancient elven coins from down there—pure gold, engraved with ancient runes. We sold it to an old scholar in the North and made a full 50,000 gold coins!"

Pooh!

The scarred coachman spat down below.

"Come on, Nick! You said last time that box of ancient coins was the Dwarf King's toilet seat!"

He was a dwarf.

He had a thick beard, was short, strong, and stocky.

He was missing two front teeth, so he spoke with a lisp.

Nick grinned, revealing a row of uneven teeth.

“That’s another box! The Dwarf King’s toilet seat was made of copper. I soaked it in acid to make it look antique and sold it to a nouveau riche businessman. That idiot still keeps it at home as a family heirloom.”

The sorceress Maggie at the back of the carriage lifted the curtain.

Her face was covered with a sand-proof mask, revealing only a pair of sharp green eyes: "Nick, if you're really that good at making money, why are you still driving this bunch of junk trucks? You can't even afford guards?"

Nick remained silent for a few seconds.

His gaze was somewhat subdued, but he quickly perked up again, slapped his thigh, and a few drops of liquid from the bottle splashed onto the scorching hot metal roof of the car, instantly evaporating into white smoke.

Nick laughed heartily and said, "Good things take time, what's the rush?"

He downed the cheap beer in one gulp: "Once we get this batch of 'Dragon Blood Ore' out there and resell it, I'll treat you all to drinks at the tavern until dawn!"

"Dragon Blood Ore?"

Young apprentice Cole poked his head out from behind the crate, his nose smeared with molten lime, and asked in confusion, "But aren't we supposed to be carrying bloodstone in these crates?"

Nick glared at him and lowered his voice:

"Shh! Keep your voice down! What's wrong with bloodstone? Add some dye, make up a story, and it becomes dragon blood ore! Those mage apprentices from those noble schools don't know anything. They can't even tell the difference between a lizard's tail and a dragon's claw, and they think no one dares to deceive noble mages, making them the best sales targets."

The scarred coachman burst into laughter, nearly spitting out the tobacco he was chewing:

"Nick, you'll be hanged at the city gate sooner or later."

“Hanging? Doing business means being prepared to die!” Nick scoffed. “If I were afraid of death, I would have been a respectable accountant at the Jade Merchants’ Guild ten years ago.”

He squinted at the rising heatwave in the distance: "You know what? Back in Silver Harbor City, I sold a ship full of moldy grain to the Elf Ambassador with just my words, and that old man even praised me for being honest and trustworthy."

Maggie rolled her eyes, completely unconvinced: "And then? You were hunted down by elven rangers for half a year?"

“That was an accident!” Nick waved his hand, as if trying to shake off the unpleasant memory. “Besides, I’m still alive and well, aren’t I? I even managed to trick that knight-errant into giving me his sword and sell it.”

Apprentice Cole looked at him with admiration, blinked, and quickly asked, "Really?"

“Of course!” Nick puffed out his chest, then suddenly looked regretful: “The hilt of that sword is inlaid with gems, but unfortunately it’s made of glass.”

Everyone burst into laughter, and apart from the apprentice, they all treated Nick's story as a source of amusement and boasting.

The roar of steam-powered freight cars mingled with their laughter, echoing between the rock walls of the Linxia Gorge.

Hot winds swept past, carrying sand and gravel. Nick gazed at the winding canyon in the distance, listening to his companions' laughter. He couldn't help but recall his own life of ups and downs, his feelings were somewhat complicated, but a smile remained on his face.

Always keep smiling; a smile can put others at ease.

This was the experience taught to Nick by the caravan leader when he was thirteen years old on his first business trip.

However, Nick's smile soon faded.

Awoo! Awoo!

The howl of the giant wolf rose up, continuous and soaring into the sky.

The smile froze on his face.

"Damn it! Why did I have to run into these monsters and villains in the wilderness!"

Nick cursed inwardly, his heart sinking deeper into despair.

The Wilderness of Sel is rich in mineral resources, but it is also home to countless ferocious beasts, monsters, and monster clans. Around the Thousand Serpents Trail, the army of the Lorthern Federation will often come to clear out, eliminate, or drive away the powerful ferocious beasts and monsters.

However, this was not very effective against intelligent monster clans.

Because of their intelligence, the monster clans of the wilderness know how to lie low, how to endure, and how to immediately flee to the heart of the wilderness when they sense danger, only to return like a tide when the danger has passed.

The wilderness of Sel is vast, and it is even home to legendary ferocious beasts and monsters.

The Lothern Federation's cleanup forces will not venture deep into the wilderness without a reason, as this would bring unnecessary trouble and losses. Every now and then, it is enough to clean up the ferocious beasts and monsters around the trade routes.

Unless one is willing to pay a huge price, it is almost impossible to clear the wilderness of ferocious beasts.

Moreover, these ferocious beasts and monsters are themselves a type of biological resource.

As for the intelligent creature clans, well, many merchants refer to them as monster clans.

Their numbers are negligible compared to ferocious beasts and monsters; only the unlucky ones will encounter them. Moreover, they know how to avoid danger and dare not attack powerful caravans. They often only choose to plunder weak caravans that do not have many resources.

Unfortunately.

Nick's caravan was unlucky and weak, making them targets of the monster clan.

Dust billowed in the distance, and seven or eight gray figures darted out from the shadows of the rock wall. Their wolf claws stomped over the scorching sand and gravel without making a sound.

"Hold!"

The scarred coachman ripped the tobacco from his mouth and reached for the short axe under the seat. "It's from the Greymane werewolf!"

Nick's heart sank to the bottom.

Greymane werewolves—they are not mindless beasts, but an intelligent clan that knows how to ambush, surround, and even negotiate. They often strike when they are absolutely certain of victory, and worse, they rarely leave any survivors.

Apart from the first few gray shadows.

Nick gazed intently into the distance and could vaguely make out some giant wolf riders, half-exposed, hidden among the trees.

If it were some kobolds or something similar, it would be fine, but those giant wolves were enormous with ferocious claws and teeth, and the caravan's strength was completely insufficient to deal with them.

Resistance is a dead end, while surrender and negotiation offer a glimmer of hope.

"Stay calm! Don't move!"

Nick growled, signaling his companions not to overreact.

A robust werewolf, nearly two meters tall at the shoulder and missing its right ear, pounced first, letting out a low growl.

"We surrender!"

Nick immediately raised his hands, his voice shrill and loud, as if afraid the other party wouldn't understand Commonwealth: "You can have all the goods! Don't hurt anyone!"

The scarred coachman tried to fight back, but just as he picked up his axe, another strong werewolf pounced on him from the side, its sharp claws pressed against his throat, and with a light slash, blood splattered on the spot.

The warlock, Maggie, remained calm.

She slowly lifted her face mask, revealing a pale but composed face.

She had a pair of antelope-like horns on her head, spiraling upwards, unlike a normal human. At this moment, she was raising her hands to indicate that she had no weapons and no intention to resist.

Upon seeing her, the werewolf closest to her felt inexplicably panicked and wary.

But soon, his fear was overwhelmed by his inherent ferocity, and the werewolf suddenly ripped off her backpack and began to rummage through it roughly.

"Go easy! There's a healing potion in there!" Maggie couldn't help but shout, earning her a slap with the back of her claw, blood immediately seeping from the corner of her mouth.

Nick's eye twitched, but he didn't dare to move.

He knew that at this point, any unnecessary action would be suicidal.

(End of this chapter)