Chapter Eight: Ambushed

From the moment they entered the grasslands, the soldiers began to tighten their patrols, narrowing their range of activity and increasing their vigilance. No one knew what might appear out there. Xius knew little about the dangers of the Setting Sun Prairie, so he obediently stayed with the caravan, giving up his thoughts of venturing off alone to look for things that might be of use to him.

Yet the Setting Sun Prairie was indeed perilous—along the way, Xius had already spotted many scattered human remains, bones lying in disarray in the surrounding grass. As the caravan pressed forward into the prairie, their speed slowed, and the road became increasingly difficult.

“Bang, bang, bang!” Hearing the familiar knocking on the carriage, Xius knew it was time to eat. He stepped out to find the evening glow painting the sky a deep crimson. Their caravan had stopped beside a rare cluster of trees—though “trees” in name, these were shriveled and withered, barely clinging to life. A few birds perched among the brittle branches: unfamiliar to Xius, they resembled crows in their inky blackness but each bore a white stripe down its body, and their calls differed from the caw of crows.

The soldiers ate quickly, then hurried to clear the area around the camp before darkness fell, guarding against poisonous insects and serpents. He watched as they sprinkled a pungent white powder around the perimeter. No one dared light a campfire at night on the prairie, fearing it would draw nocturnal predators.

As darkness fell and the sun's last rays vanished, the land was swallowed by deep shadow. Soldiers, bundled in heavy leather armor against the biting night wind, squeezed together in the supply wagons, leaving only two or three men patrolling the camp.

Unable to sleep, Xius climbed atop the wagon and lay back, gazing up at a sky ablaze with stars. A river of starlight spanned the heavens—a breathtaking sight.

“How beautiful,” Xius murmured, squinting at the sky.

“Dead! Dead! Two men are dead!”

At dawn, Xius was roused by frantic shouting. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, needing a moment to process what was being said outside.

“Dead!” Jolted awake, he leapt from the carriage to see a crowd clustered around one of the wagons.

“What happened? How could someone have died?” At the sound of Xius's voice, the soldiers stepped aside for him.

“Young Master Xius!” Belita called out, hastening over.

“What’s going on, Belita?” Xius asked, looking at the two soldiers lying motionless in the wagon.

“Young Master Xius, these two didn’t respond when called in the morning. That's when we found them dead.”

“How did they die? Does Father know?” Xius approached to examine the bodies.

“The Count has already been here. He ordered us to bury them,” Belita replied. “As for the cause—they were bitten by venomous snakes and died from the poison.” She led Xius to the bodies, pointing to two dried, blackened puncture wounds on their ankles.

“Here’s where they were bitten. It must have happened while they slept. The sentries didn’t hear a thing… Sigh.”

Xius followed her gaze up from the wounds. The soldiers’ faces were a deep, unnatural purple, yet showed no trace of pain or struggle.

“Chip, scan these two bodies.”

“Beep! Scan complete: blood contains high levels of neurotoxin. Analysis: this toxin destroys the nervous system within one minute of entering the body, resulting in death. (Note: Host constitution cannot resist this toxin. Recommendation: avoid contact.)”

Cold sweat broke out on Xius’s back. If he’d been bitten in his sleep, not even the chip could have saved him.

“Chip, stay on alert. Notify me immediately of any danger,” he ordered anxiously.

“Beep. Task established. Continuous scanning in progress.”

Clearly, the caravan could not bring the bodies along. After a brief inspection, they dug two shallow graves. As both corpses were poisoned, there was little concern about scavengers, and the bodies were laid to rest.

The caravan set off again, everyone proceeding with even greater caution. Wild beasts could at least be fought off, but poison—no amount of luck could save you from that.

“Stop!” Suddenly, the leading soldier shouted.

The rest of the caravan halted at once. A gust of wind carried a foul stench to their noses.

“My lord, Young Master Xius, there seems to be something ahead. Allow us to investigate,” Belita said, leading several soldiers forward.

Moments later, they returned, faces grim.

“My lord, we’ve found a large number of animal corpses ahead.”

Count Clay and Xius stood before the carnage. The stench was overwhelming. A dozen antelopes, bellies ripped open, lay on the blood-soaked ground, their skeletons already picked clean, the earth stained red—a nauseating sight.

Count Clay crouched to inspect one; the blood had not yet fully coagulated.

“Judging by these bodies, they haven’t been dead long. Look—the wounds are many, but shallow. All the fatal blows are to the throat, delivered in a single strike. It seems a pack of predators is nearby—and not far from us,” the Count said gravely, rising to his feet.

“We have to move faster. We must cross the Setting Sun Prairie within four days. The longer we linger, the greater the danger. Bypass these corpses and press on,” he ordered.

The caravan crept across the prairie, a strange tension hanging in the air, heavy and oppressive.

It was only the second day since entering the grasslands—two men dead already, and now a mass of animal carcasses. Clearly, a large pack of predators was in the vicinity. No one knew what the coming days might bring, and no one wished to die.

Xius sat in the carriage, mood somber. The day’s events left him hungering for power more than ever.

As night fell, the caravan made camp as usual. The entire encampment was eerily silent, no one speaking, a pall of deathly stillness.

Xius slipped away alone, not far from camp, to practice the basic knight’s breathing technique and swordplay. He stripped off his shirt to train, keeping a watchful eye on the camp, ready to return at the first sign of trouble.

“Awoo! Awoo~!”

In the midst of his practice, Xius caught faint howls in the distance. Though indistinct, he was certain: they were the cries of wild beasts, and his heart leapt in alarm.

“Chip, what animal is making that sound?”

“Beep! Analysis complete. Probability of wolves: 97%.”

“Wolves!” Xius knew wolves were pack hunters; if they appeared, it would be in numbers.

“No! I must warn Father at once.” He grabbed his shirt and sword, racing back toward camp.

The sentries, hearing movement in the grass, tightened their grip on their weapons, preparing to investigate.

“Wake everyone!” Xius called as he ran toward his father’s carriage.

Recognizing the young master, the sentries relaxed a bit. Though puzzled by his urgency, they followed orders without question.

Count Clay, reading by candlelight in his carriage, heard the commotion and stepped out.

“Father!” The Count turned to see his son, face flushed with urgency.

“Why aren’t you asleep at this hour? What’s going on? Why have you had the soldiers wake everyone?” the Count asked.

“Father, I was practicing near the camp and heard wolves howling, so I came to warn you.”

“What?!” The Count was visibly startled. He hadn’t expected to encounter a wolf pack so soon after finding evidence of predators earlier that day.

Xius and Count Clay moved to the center of camp, where everyone had already assembled, sensing that something dire must have happened to warrant such a disturbance.

Upon hearing of the wolf pack, everyone armed themselves. No one dared sleep, nerves stretched taut in anticipation.

“Traveling at night is impossible now. We must wait for dawn or for the wolves to attack. Otherwise, the environment is against us. Everyone, be prepared,” Count Clay instructed.

“Awoo~~~ Awoo!”

The chorus of howls echoed all around the camp, dozens of eerie green eyes gleaming in the darkness. The wolf pack lingered, keeping its distance but surrounding Xius and his people.

“It seems we have no way out. The wolves have marked us as prey. Belita, get some men to light the bonfires around the camp. Assign extra archers—shoot any wolf that dares approach.”

“Yes, my lord.” Belita hurried to carry out the orders.

Xius took up a bow as well. With the chip’s assistance, he had an absolute advantage; night and day made little difference to him.

“Xius!” As he tested the bow’s tension, his father called him over.

“Yes, Father?”

Count Clay leaned in, speaking quietly.

“If anything goes wrong, don’t worry about the rest of us—run. Follow this road, and you’ll reach Soto City.”

“You’ll be all right, Father.” Xius felt a surge of emotion. In his previous life, he’d been an orphan; here, Count Clay had given him something he’d never known before.

“Let’s hope so. Who knows how many wolves there are. We must end this quickly, or other nocturnal predators may be drawn by the commotion.” Count Clay’s brow furrowed in concern.