Chapter 618: Road Without Flags

Pine needles crunched beneath Taren’s feet as he crouched on the wooded ridge overlooking the northern highway.

Fifty paces below, a dusty freight caravan halted beside a ruined shrine where dry grass choked the altar stones.

Although the canvas covers bore no military insignias, eight hardened escorts circled one specific unmarked wagon with excessive vigilance.

Their hands rested near concealed weapons, and their sharp glances constantly scanned the surrounding tree line for potential ambushers.

"They swapped drivers three times in six leagues," Taren whispered into his communication talisman, his voice barely disturbing the pine branches.

"The front wagons carry ordinary turnip crates, but the central wagon has reinforced axles and guards with military discipline."

"We see them from the southern bend," Hajin replied through the link, his tone remarkably calm and steady.

"Do you want me to cut their retreat when the commotion begins down on the highway?"

"Take the southern exit and block their draft beasts from bolting," the swordsman instructed, checking the fit of his scabbard.

"I will approach the escort captain directly and force their hand in the open roadway."

He rose from the brush, descending the rocky slope with deliberate, unhurried strides that drew immediate attention from the guards.

"Halt right there, traveler!" a burly escort barked, resting his palm against the hilt of a broadsword.

"This is a private transport under emergency charter, and the mountain pass is closed to foot traffic!"

Taren ignored the bluster, walking directly toward the central wagon while his eyes locked onto the lead mercenary.

"Chartered by whom?" he asked coolly, stopping ten paces from the lead wagon’s wooden tongue.

"Last time I checked the provincial register, commercial routes through this gorge belong under guild jurisdiction."

The escort captain stepped out from between two freight carts, an arrogant sneer curling across his scarred visage.

"Well, well... look what crawled out from the southern provinces," the captain mockingly drawled, drawing a curved saber.

"The fallen champion of the Serpent tournament, reduced to acting as a common highwayman in the scrublands!"

"I remember when you fought for golden crowns in the capital arenas," the mercenary chuckled, gesturing with his weapon.

"How about we settle this according to the old dueling codes, one champion against another?"

"I retired from tournament games years ago," Taren answered without the slightest trace of hesitation or doubt.

"And I have no interest in trading theatrical speeches with a common border smuggler."

"Arrogant dog!" the captain roared, lunging forward with a vicious downward slash aimed at the swordsman’s collarbone.

"Cut him down and protect the cargo at all costs!"

Taren did not back away or attempt an elaborate parry against the oncoming assault, remaining perfectly composed under pressure.

Instead, he stepped diagonally into the tight clearance between two parked carts, using the narrow gap to foul the mercenary’s swing.

The captain’s saber struck a wheel rim with a shower of orange sparks, throwing the attacker completely off balance.

Before the mercenary could recover his footing, Taren drove the hilt of his weapon hard into the man’s solar plexus.

The concussive strike knocked the breath straight out of the captain’s lungs, dropping him to his knees in the dirt.

Two escorts rushed in from the flanks, raising crossbows to eliminate the intruder before he could press his advantage.

A sudden crack of thunder tore through the canyon as Hajin materialized behind the rear wagon in a blur of motion.

Pure sovereign pressure slammed down onto the roadway like a physical ceiling, pinning the remaining guards where they stood.

Their weapons clattered onto the gravel as their trembling knees buckled under the immense weight of the summoner’s presence.

"Drop the strings," Hajin warned with a faint smirk, his split-colored eyes glowing with amused authority.

"Unless you want to find out how fast my blades move compared to your reload speed."

The mercenaries threw their hands into the air, surrendering their loaded crossbows without firing another shot at anyone.

Taren knelt beside the gasping captain, deftly removing a bound leather register from inside the officer’s tunic.

"Let us see what kind of emergency cargo requires eight armed veterans to guard dried vegetables," the swordsman muttered.

He flipped through the damp parchment pages, his brow furrowing as he deciphered the cryptic logistics codes.

"This is a complete regional supply schedule for the Choral garrison at the viaduct," he announced, looking up at Hajin.

"Rations, weapon shipments, replacement ballista springs... and something marked as a return route."

"A return route?"

"The entries list an empty wagon traveling backward through the mountain cisterns every five days," Taren explained, tapping the paper.

"Why send empty transport wagons backward into a fortified zone unless you are extracting something valuable?"

"That makes zero tactical sense," Hajin observed, walking around the central wagon to inspect its iron reinforcements.

"Unless the wagons are not actually returning empty, or they serve as decoys for a subterranean transit channel."

The civilian teamsters huddled near the shrine, trembling in terror as they watched the captured mercenaries being bound.

"Please, masters!" an elderly driver pleaded, raising his calloused hands toward the armed travelers in desperate supplication.

"We were hired in the lower valley to drive the carts... we had no knowledge of military contraband!"

"Nobody is going to harm you," Taren said gently, stepping toward the frightened drivers with an open posture.

He reached into his guild pouch and produced a handful of silver coins, pressing them into the old man’s palm.

"This covers the full market value of your lost freight and guarantees your safe return journey home."

The elderly driver stared at the silver in stunned disbelief, his eyes widening with genuine gratitude.

"You... you are paying us for our detained cargo?"

"The Merchant Guild pays for honest transport," the swordsman told him firmly, patting the old man’s trembling shoulder.

"Now tell me about the wagons that traveled back through the cisterns."

"The driver was a silent man with dead eyes," the old teamster answered eagerly, pointing toward the northern ridge.

"He never stopped at the waystations, and his wagon always returned with painted markings across the wheel hubs!"

"Did you notice the color or pattern of the paint?" he asked, leaning in with keen interest.

"It looked like a white spiral," the old driver replied, tracing a curved circle in the dusty mountain air.

"And whenever that wagon passed through the toll gate, the draft horses always pulled like it weighed ten tons!"

"Even when the canvas bed was completely empty?"

"Yes, lord... empty as a hollow drum, yet the axles creaked like they carried solid iron ingots!"

Through the celestial broadcast channel, millions of observing Earth viewers erupted with praise and enthusiastic superchats.

[ Seoul_Tactician: "Taren handled that captain with pure veteran efficiency! That wagon gap tactic was so smart!" ]

[ StarlightScholar: "Hajin just walking up and dropping total pressure on the reinforcements, what an absolute boss!" ]

[ IronVanguard: "And paying the civilian drivers with guild funds instead of robbing them? Top tier class!" ]

[ HearthKeeper: "Wait, painted markings on the returning wheel hubs? Ashley is going to spot that in the footage for sure!" ]

Hajin rolled up the captured schedule, tucking the record safely into his coat with a decisive nod.

"A hidden return route changes everything," he noted with a grim, knowing smile across his face.

"Let us get this schedule back to camp so Ferra can cross-reference the cistern coordinates."

"Agreed," Taren replied, sheathing his sword with a clean, satisfying click that echoed off the canyon rocks.

The road ahead was clearing rapidly, but the enemy’s deepest secrets were just beginning to unravel across the border.