The cold wind howled.
Although the southern winter in the Tyrrhenian Kingdom was not as biting as the north, with winds like blades, it possessed a unique bone-chilling coldness. Therefore, among the Bloodline Powers of the water element, the north predominantly featured cold-type Bloodlines, while the south mostly focused on icy Bloodlines.
Especially compared to the White Mountain Territory, which had more forests, once the Gem Territory entered November, the rapidly dropping temperatures brought by the sea wind would swiftly sweep across the entire territory.
In previous years, the Gem Territory would enter a high-frequency period of death around this time. Not only in several villages, but even in the Gem Territory's only city, a large number of people would freeze to death. This was one of the main reasons why the Gem Territory, despite being a resource-rich territory, always struggled to develop.
Yarn and Yaka had been away from the Gem Territory for three years, but the chilling coldness etched into their Bloodline remained deeply ingrained in their memories.
They traveled south without almost any delay or stop. To avoid unpleasant memories, Yarn even deliberately bypassed the low mountain where the Iron Wolf Mercenary Group used to reside.
For this, they had to spend two extra days.
After traveling all the way to the border of the Gem Territory, their swift journey south finally came to its first halt.
This was because the Gem Territory had set up a checkpoint on a major trade route leading to the Red Soil Territory, guarded by at least over a hundred soldiers.
This outpost was responsible not only for monitoring the comings and goings on the main road to the Red Soil Territory but also for patrolling and managing several surrounding “small paths.”
Having served as a Kingdom Army soldier, Yarn had long known that among the surrounding territories, the Gem Territory was always known for its “strong military and abundant horses” due to its lord's unrestrained oppressive taxes. Its private army was almost three to five times larger than those of other lords.
But he never expected that, with the Gem Territory and the Red River Territory currently at war, they could still spare a hundred soldiers to guard this place, monitoring the direction of the Red Soil Territory—Yarn took one look and already knew that this outpost was not actually guarding against an advance from the Red Soil Territory, but rather targeting the merchants entering and exiting the two territories.
“Father?”
“No rush.” Yarn shook his head. “There are dozens of small paths between the Gem Territory and the Red Soil Territory. They can’t completely block them. We’ll definitely find a way through.”
Yarn wasn't worried at all about going to the Red Soil Territory.
He had stayed in Fisher Village for two extra months, not only to collect various auxiliary materials and consumables but also to save up some money for emergencies.
Judging by the Gem Territory’s lord’s greed, about ten silver coins would be enough. For this, he even collected many extra items and sold them to the merchant who had previously sold him the Inferno Hound heart, exchanging them for thirty-five silver coins. He kept ten for his second son, Yam, and carried the rest with him, precisely to deal with situations like this.
After all, if there was no chance to secretly cross the territory border, then paying a toll would not be an issue.
What truly worried Yarn was the issue of the Rusty Sword’s components.
South of the Gem Territory was a Deadwood Forest known as the “Death Forest.”
It was said that a blaze had once burned there for an entire year. If not for several prominent figures intervening one after another, no one knew how much longer this forest fire would have continued to burn.
The Red Soil Territory was said to be named “Red Soil” because of its connection to this year-long blaze—one-third of the Red Soil Territory’s eastern land was entirely dry, reddish earth. Forget about cultivation; there wasn’t even a hint of green, and the temperature was vastly different from the Red Soil Territory’s western part. Even in the cold winter, it would give one a feeling of summer-like heat.
That Inferno Hound pack had made its nest here.
Another reason this Deadwood Forest was called the “Death Forest” was that it had now become a paradise for many demonic beasts.
It was precisely because the Gem Territory had this Deadwood Forest as a natural barrier that it never needed to station troops in the southern part of its territory.
Yarn’s biggest worry was that the Rusty Sword’s components were in this Deadwood Forest.
…
“Raise your hand higher.”
Yam lightly tapped the long staff in a middle-aged man’s hand with a wooden stick, correcting his posture for holding the staff.
“Remember, what you’re holding now isn’t a staff, but a spear!”
“The tip of the staff is the spearhead. Either hold it level with your chest, or when raising the spear, the spearhead should be level with your throat.”
“The grip is different, but the technique for exerting force is the same.”
Yam lightly tapped his left forearm with the wooden stick, then said, “The point of exertion is in your back arm. … The hand holding the front of the spear is your dominant hand, and the hand holding the back of the spear is your non-dominant hand, which we call the back arm.”
“Holding the front with your dominant hand is to maintain the balance of the weapon and adjust the angle of attack.”
“Basically, all your attack movements and adjustments require your dominant hand, so its point of exertion is for the weapon’s balance, to prevent your weapon from being knocked away by the enemy or other accidents.”
“This is why the back arm is the point of exertion for attack movements.”
As Yam explained and demonstrated several movements, the twenty or so men in the village square quickly readjusted their stances.
These men varied in age, with the youngest being around sixteen or seventeen, and the oldest around thirty.
They were the militia group formed by Fisher Village itself.
Although it had been established for over five years, it was only when Yaen's family arrived two and a half years ago that they truly began to receive formal military training.
However, although this group was called a militia, due to Fisher Village’s size, it was impossible for these men to be completely disengaged from production. Therefore, they could only spare two half-days a week for intensive training. But after training by Yarn and Yam, the father and son, they now looked somewhat presentable. The only thing they lacked was actual combat experience.
Yam always kept his father’s words in mind.
Any unit that had not undergone actual combat, no matter how perfectly trained, was just a rabble.
But there were really no enemies near Fisher Village, not even demonic beasts, so it was truly difficult to find suitable opponents for actual combat.
Yam surveyed the villagers, his thoughts already elsewhere.
His father had been gone for almost three months. Based on the travel schedule, if everything went smoothly, his younger brother should have already become a Bloodline Knight. But if things didn’t go smoothly, then the outcome was hard to say. So Yam could only try his best not to dwell on these bad outcomes, actively seeking things to do to distract himself.
“Hup—”
“Clip-clop—clip-clop—”
The sound of galloping hooves echoed from nearby.
Yam turned his head to see three swift horses galloping from outside the village into the village square. The person riding the lead horse wore a leather hat adorned with feathers.
He had heard his father mention that in the military, this was a symbol of an urgent report, allowing direct entry into the central army camp.
But in a territory, this was the symbol of a tax collector.
Yam’s brows furrowed involuntarily.
The lord of the White Mountain Territory was considered a benevolent person by his subjects. For the villages within his territory, he only levied the most basic spring and autumn taxes, collecting only one silver coin per person from the village. If one didn’t have silver coins, they could pay with grain at market price.
However, his family’s situation was special.
As the militia instructor for the village, the taxes for Yam's family of four were handled by the village chief. This was considered one of the remunerations for their family serving as the village's militia instructors.
It was just the beginning of spring now, and ordinarily, the tax collector should only come at the end of the month or the beginning of next month to collect taxes. This early arrival, almost a month ahead of schedule, surprised Yam somewhat.
But soon, Yam saw the tax collector, led by the village chief, walking towards the open ground.
Although he had questions, he didn’t say much. After telling the militiamen to continue training on their own, he walked towards the group.
“This is our militia instructor.”
The old village chief of Fisher Village was now very old.
It was only because the lord of the White Mountain Territory was not overly harsh that he could live to such an age. If it were in the Gem Territory, he would have long been expelled from the village and left to fend for himself.
Yam greeted the old village chief, then his gaze fell on the three people behind the old village chief.
Normally, when tax collectors went to collect taxes, they would be accompanied by several of the lord’s private guards to prevent robbery and unforeseen incidents.
However, at this moment, looking at the two guards behind the tax collector, Yam felt startled.
Because the attire of these two guards was clearly extraordinary.
The older middle-aged man was fine; his clothing wasn't luxurious, but the long spear he carried was clearly forged from exotic iron.
It wasn’t that ordinary people couldn’t use exotic iron weapons. It was just that, firstly, exotic iron weapons were expensive and beyond the means of ordinary people; secondly, exotic iron weapons, once forged, were often incredibly heavy. So, without the physical strengthening provided by Bloodline Power, even if one could wield them, they would often exhaust themselves after only a few swings.
Under normal circumstances, if Yam's family hadn't previously killed a Bloodline Knight who possessed an exotic iron weapon and directly taken his exotic iron weapon, they would have to accumulate savings for at least thirty or fifty years to commission one if they didn't seek patronage from a lord or noble.
Therefore, the identity of this middle-aged man wielding an exotic iron spear was naturally clear.
A Bloodline Knight.
And for a Bloodline Knight to be accompanying him as a guard, Yam wouldn't believe that the tax collector had such influence.
So his gaze naturally fell on the young man next to them.
As soon as their eyes met, before Yam could react, the young man had already smiled.
“May I speak with this instructor alone?”
The young man smiled kindly.
“Of course, of course.” The old village chief nodded nervously, then gestured to Yam before leaving with the tax collector.
The middle-aged man did not leave, but he did move a few meters away, his eyes scanning the surroundings like lightning, beginning to stand guard.
Once everyone had stepped back, the young man turned to Yam and said, “Giggs Bohr. May I ask what this esteemed Knight is called?”