Chapter 253 252. Trapped
Crunch… Crunch… Crunch…
Outside the window, the rotting blades of the massive windmill turned slowly in the thin night mist, each pull causing the mill structure to groan.
The light in the attic was not much better than outside. Only a few thin rays of starlight shone through the small, grimy window and the gaps in the broken wooden boards, barely outlining the outlines of two short and stout figures.
Thorin and Glum, two young dwarves whose beards were not yet tangled, were huddled in a corner in a very unpresentable manner, with sacks from somewhere under their buttocks, their four eyes wide open, staring at the compass in Thorin's hand.
In the guide compass, the needle engraved with runes kept spinning like a headless fly.
"Hey, Thorin," Grum's voice echoed in the dim light, bewildered. "You're a young master of the Deepfurnace Clan, after all. Why are you carrying such a low-quality item?"
He tried to nudge his companion with his elbow, but nearly knocked the compass out of Thorin's hand.
Thorin frantically tried to protect the compass, growling in annoyance, "I'm not much of a young master... But I brought this straight from home! I'm not interested in swinging a hammer, but the craftsmanship of the Deep Furnace family, even the slag, is reliable! Maybe there's something wrong with the Guiding Stone out there!"
"Pfft!" Grumm almost blew away the breath he had been holding, as if he had heard the funniest joke of the century. He quickly covered his mouth and chuckled with his shoulders shrugged. "You're talking as if the Guiding Stone wasn't made by the Deepfurnace Clan. Thorin, is your mining lamp shining on your head? That's the Guiding Stone of 'Three Clans'! It's made of mountain heart gold! The runes engraved on it are old enough to be our great-grandfather's tombstone! There's no way it could be a problem!"
Thorin was choked by his companion and rolled his eyes, but what the other party said did make sense.
He scratched the unruly stubble on his chin in annoyance. After a long pause, he finally managed another guess: "Then... that must be the work of that sneaky fox person I ran into before! Ever since I met her, everything has been wrong!"
This time, Glenn didn't object, but nodded: "That's possible!"
Unfortunately, their speculation ended there. They were now trapped in this dilapidated mill, unable to protect themselves, let alone confront the so-called fox man.
Beyond the windmill, the towering wheat fields stretched into the depths of the mist and darkness under the sparse starlight. The rolling waves of wheat were mixed with unusual rustling sounds, which were made by the scarecrow and the crows.
They were chased and hid in here.
An ordinary scarecrow might not come in on its own accord, but that doesn't mean it's safe.
Not to mention that the "farmer" who was holding a pitchfork and could come in and out of the mill freely might come back at any time, just wasting time here was fatal in itself.
The more time they waste, the deeper they sink.
This is also the reason why they suspected the fox man.
The two of them had been in the dungeon for far less than a day. According to common sense, they should still be wandering on the relatively safe "edge", but after encountering the fox man, not only did the compass break, but they also sank directly down a level and came to the "wheat field maze".
These are accidents that have never been heard of.
"What do I do now?" Thorin cried, his voice filled with grief and indignation. "I'm destined to be the greatest adventurer in the world, and I'm going to rot in this moldy attic. How tragic!"
"The 'greatest adventurer' who died on his second adventure..." Grum rolled his eyes. "Why don't you say I was even worse off? I died right alongside you."
"I've paid them. Isn't it natural for mercenaries to die on a mission?" Thorin replied stubbornly.
"It's only natural that an adventurer dies adventuring!" Grumm, too lazy to argue, suggested seriously, "There's at least one way. We could try bribing the crows. Crows are the eyes of the farm, but that's not all! Do you have any gems on you?"
Thorin subconsciously groped in his arms and pulled out a pure, translucent emerald gem the size of a pigeon egg. "Bribing the crow? Are the rumors about the drunkard in the tavern true?"
"Of course it's real! Otherwise, why would I mention it!" Grum grabbed the emerald. The warm touch made him subconsciously weigh it, and then blurted out: "Fuck! It's much better than the bag of stuff they gave me before!"
He decisively stuffed this top-quality ruby deep into his pocket, and at the same time quickly took out a ruby that was obviously smaller and had a turbid and dull color, and held it in his hand.
Thorin watched helplessly as the other party "switch" the gems right in front of him. He curled his lips but didn't even raise an eyebrow. He still had a whole bag of emeralds of this quality...
Glenn held the inferior ruby in his hand and stretched his arm out of the broken window. He twisted the gem deftly with his fingers, using its faint facets to reflect the sparse starlight into the fields.
Not long after, a crow with shiny feathers flew over, pecked the ruby from Glenn's fingertips, and then flapped its wings and flew straight towards somewhere deep in the wheat field!
"It's over there, follow it!"
The two men slid down the ladder directly to the bottom of the mill and rushed out.
Glum took the lead, with two sharp axes dancing in front of him. A scarecrow blocking the way just emerged from the straw and was torn into several pieces of dry grass in an instant.
Suddenly, a rustling sound came from the surrounding wheat fields.
"This way!" Glenn quickly identified the direction where the crow disappeared and rushed over.
Thorin followed closely behind, swinging his heavy war hammer, and with one blow, he smashed another scarecrow that rushed towards him from the side into pieces.
"Hey! Can we really get out by just following that black bird?" he asked while running and panting.
"Not necessarily!" Glumm said without turning his head. "Some crows belong to the farm, and some don't. It's just a gamble!"
"What are the odds?"
"It's fifty-fifty, either it is or it isn't!"
"What kind of 50-50 is this?!"
The two men ran for their lives in the maze-like wheat field. The rustling sound behind them never went away. Suddenly, the thick wheat stalks in front of them disappeared. Their feet suddenly felt empty and they rushed to the edge of a steep cliff!
There is bottomless darkness below, and behind is the scarecrow that is about to catch up!
"Is it a bad bird?!" Thorin's heart sank.
"No! It's a good bird! A very good one!" Glenn suddenly pointed to the other side.
The crow was seen leisurely perched on a twisted branch of a dead tree on the opposite bank, still holding the ruby in its mouth, its dark eyes looking at the two of them.
Across the cliff, you can vaguely see the outline of a relatively sparse and low wheat field, which is the sign of the edge of the area!
(End of this chapter)
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