Chapter 362 The Orange Orchard and the Snowy Night

For Xia Nan, whose Constitution attribute had reached 8 points and whose stamina recovery far exceeded that of an ordinary person, a mere six to seven hours of sleep a day was enough to fully replenish his energy. This made a twenty-four-hour day feel much longer and far more productive than it had in his previous life.

Right now, even after he had completed a full training routine on the outskirts of town, washed up, experienced two failed probing attempts with the tavern owner and the local blacksmith, and taken a stroll around the town square, it was still only morning.

For reference, when he had returned from the square, Horac was eating breakfast in the inn's lobby. As adventurers, the two members of the Blackwood Squad might have woken up slightly earlier than the merchant, but they had only just finished sorting their gear and come downstairs.

"You're saying... the entire population of Sheep Horn Town has already been affected by that thing?" Margaret asked in astonishment, her brow furrowed as she sat at the dining table, keeping her voice low so only those sitting with them could hear.

"At least the owner of this inn, the blacksmith who clashed with Mr. Horac yesterday, and a few peasant women in the town square are," Xia Nan said with a slight nod.

He hadn't answered directly, but the tavern owner, the blacksmith, and the peasant women represented three completely different backgrounds. That alone was enough to illustrate how widespread the gemstone's influence had become.

Since they were all in the same boat, he had no reason to hide information that didn't involve his own secrets. Taking advantage of them all being together, he shared the intelligence he had gathered and a few of his own speculations with Margaret and the others.

He also hoped his teammates could use their vastly superior adventuring experience to help broaden his perspective and find a way to break the deadlock.

"That shouldn't be right..." the dwarf Thordin voiced his doubts from the side. "If that priest truly worships the goddess [Chantier], given her teachings, how could she allow something that affects people's minds to spread through the town?"

Xia Nan had pondered something similar on his way back to the inn after leaving the square.

The answer was actually quite simple, boiling down to one of two possibilities:

First, Priest Moin knew about the Pastel Gemstone, and the current situation in Sheep Horn Town was happening with his tacit approval—he might even be secretly fueling it.

Second, Priest Moin was completely ignorant of anything related to the gemstone and had been affected by its charming effect just like the ordinary residents. After all, he was merely a clergyman in a remote small town's church, not some divinely favored individual who had caught the eyes of the gods. Let alone being mind-controlled, even if he died on the spot, he might not attract the attention of the [Goddess of Agriculture], a mighty deity with billions of believers.

Faced with Thordin's question, no one present could offer an answer.

Everyone fell into a unanimous silence.

But without a doubt, they all likely harbored answers similar to Xia Nan's.

The situation in the town was complicated and confusing. If Xia Nan hadn't discovered that the [Dream Weaving Corridor] was the natural enemy of the Pastel Gemstone—capable of not only easily dispelling its charming effect but also absorbing its energy to charge the device—he would have packed his bags and left long ago. He absolutely wouldn't have gotten involved.

Now that the caravan members were becoming increasingly aware of the complex situation in Sheep Horn Town, Margaret, as the captain of the Blackwood Squad, tossed the dark-gold braid resting on her shoulder back behind her head. Looking across the table at Horac, she suggested earnestly, "How much longer will it take to finish processing the caravan's goods? Staying in this town any longer... is very dangerous. To avoid getting caught up in unnecessary trouble, I ask that Mr. Horac handle things as quickly as possible. We need to hurry and leave."

At the female swordsman's urging, a helpless expression appeared on the wealthy merchant's round face.

He didn't answer. Instead, he simply turned his head and looked at the caravan's second-in-command sitting beside him—his assistant, Afu.

"Mr. Horac already discussed this with me last night," Afu said, taking over the conversation to explain. "Actually, to speed things up as much as possible, we're not even considering the prices of the goods anymore. Taking a loss doesn't matter. What's truly taking up time right now is restocking our supplies. It's a journey of over ten days from Sheep Horn Town to Rivervale Town. Even if we can find small villages along the way to rest temporarily and buy rations from the villagers, we still need to purchase at least ten days' worth of supplies, even budgeting strictly. And gathering that much in a remote place like Sheep Horn Town... takes time. But please rest assured, I've already passed down the order. Everyone in the caravan knows the urgency of the situation, and no one will dawdle. The moment our supplies are restocked, we can set out immediately!"

At this point, Afu suddenly hesitated.

A rare look of uncertainty flashed across his stern, rigid face. His lips moved a few times before he slowly spoke again, dropping his voice to a bare whisper. "The judgment is yours. If the situation in town truly deteriorates to the point where we must leave immediately... please take Mr. Horac and leave the town first. The rest of the caravan and I can follow later..."

"Afu!" Horac interrupted, his round face, usually bearing an amiable smile, now completely devoid of expression.

He patted the assistant heavily on the shoulder twice.

After a moment of silence, he simply shook his head. "Don't overthink it. Just get your work done as quickly as possible. Coming to Sheep Horn Town was my decision. Since I brought you all to this place, we will naturally leave together."

After saying that, he didn't wait for a reply. He looked toward Xia Nan and the other two at the table, his expression sincere. "Everyone, the situation has changed. I don't have the authority to demand you do anything, but... at least for the sake of the gold coins, if anything really does happen in Sheep Horn Town, please try to inform me. That way, we can make preparations in advance."

Knowing clearly that the more critical the situation became, the more he needed to rely on the Class Holders in their group, Horac kept his attitude very humble, putting zero pressure on them despite being their employer.

Under these circumstances, let alone Margaret and Thordin, who had accepted the escort commission, even Xia Nan, who was merely hitching a ride, didn't mind giving the man a hand if it was within his power.

The group didn't discuss matters at the dining table for much longer.

Afu, the caravan steward who bore the heaviest burden and had the most affairs to handle, simply stuffed a few mouthfuls of food into his mouth before hurrying off to work.

Xia Nan planned to do what he had done that morning: stroll through the town and see if he could discover anything.

With his outstanding Perception, he naturally had to play to his strengths. By walking around town and chatting with the residents, he was bound to gain something.

After learning about the bizarre situation in Sheep Horn Town from Xia Nan, the two members of the Blackwood Squad naturally couldn't sit idly by.

Margaret planned to go into town with Xia Nan to gather intelligence. As the captain of an adventurer squad with years of experience, it could almost be said she had grown up in taverns with a motley mix of fish and dragons. She had seen everyone from kingdom nobles to street beggars. While her eloquence might not have been spectacular, she at least wouldn't kill a conversation in just a few sentences like Xia Nan did.

She covered his final shortcoming.

Meanwhile, the dwarf Thordin was left at the inn, tasked with protecting Horac.

...

...

During the morning hours, warm sunlight spilled over the busy streets, and a gentle breeze carrying the noise of the town brushed past their cheeks.

Margaret's wheat-colored skin gave off a healthy glow under the sunlight, and her neatly braided dark-gold hair swayed gently with her movements.

With one hand resting on the hilt of her sword at her waist, she swept her sharp, swordsman's gaze over the passing crowds.

Out of the corner of her eye, however, she subconsciously focused on the deep, pitch-black figure walking ahead of her.

Many years had passed since she took over the position of Blackwood Squad captain from her father. Now that she had voluntarily handed over the initiative for this operation, she felt a little unaccustomed to it, and even acted a bit too immersed in her new role.

As if she truly were just an ordinary member of an Adventurer Squad, she hadn't even asked where they were going or who exactly they should seek out for intelligence after leaving the inn. She merely followed behind this exceptionally young man with outstanding strength who had once saved their squad.

As for Xia Nan... he had a destination in mind.

It wasn't the crowded trade street lined with vendors and shops, nor was it the well-informed post station where throngs of porters gathered year-round.

Instead, he walked steadily toward the outskirts of the town.

About twenty minutes later.

As pedestrians grew sparse and the buildings flanking the street became less dense, the vast fields of the plains in the back became faintly visible.

A small Orange Orchard came into their view.

A low stone wall with a mottled surface surrounded the sides, and the air was steeped in the crisp fragrance of slightly bitter orange leaves and sweet fruit flesh.

The not-so-tall orange trees were planted in rows with strict precision, allowing one to see straight to the low wall at the end of the orchard. Every fruit tree was carefully pruned, its branches and leaves lush but not chaotic.

The tough, dark green leaves looked as if they had been coated in a layer of wax, refracting faint halos of light from the sunbeams slipping through the gaps in the canopy. The heavy, orange-red fruit weighed down the branches, looking like round lanterns that stood out strikingly against the leaves.

Xia Nan had discovered this Orange Orchard on his way back from his morning training. Noticing the recent traces of human pruning on the orange trees, he had committed it to memory.

He recalled learning from the tavern owner that the Sugar Tangerines of Sheep Horn Town were a local specialty stocked by every shop in town through widespread channels.

He figured that if he wanted to gather intelligence, the caretakers of this Orange Orchard might be excellent targets.

So, he had come here to try his luck and see if he could gain anything.

It wasn't a wasted trip.

Unlike the dead silence from when the sky had just started to brighten earlier, the two had barely stepped into the orchard when they heard the crisp snip of shears.

Following the sound, they saw a plainly dressed young woman in her early twenties standing on her tiptoes, busily working beneath a lush orange tree.

A faded dark-blue kerchief wrapped around her head, leaving only a few strands of dark brown hair exposed at her forehead and ears, which were damp with sweat and clinging to her skin. A healthy flush colored her cheeks, and while her skin wasn't exactly pale, it radiated a grounded glow gifted by the soil and hard labor.

Wearing an old dress stitched from coarse linen, the girl was fully engrossed in her work. A small basket for her tools hung from her left arm, while her right hand, which bore clear, thin calluses, gripped a pair of shears. With rhythmic snips, she accurately and skillfully trimmed away the dead or overly crowded twigs from the orange tree. Her movements were fluid, as if she had repeated them tens of thousands of times.

Hearing the undisguised footsteps approaching from behind, the girl hurriedly turned around, shears still in hand.

Her gaze swept over their armor and equipment, and she subconsciously took two steps back. Panic and fear flashed across her sweaty face.

"Don't be afraid," Margaret said, stepping forward with a gentle smile. "We're just passing through; we mean no harm. Is this your family's Orange Orchard? It's very well kept. No wonder the Sugar Tangerines grown here are so delicious."

Hearing her say that, the girl immediately broke into a somewhat shy smile.

"Good day, Lord Adventurers," she greeted, bowing to them with awkward, unpracticed movements. She then turned around, took a few tangerines from a basket resting at her feet, rubbed them against her dress a few times, and offered them over, cupped in her hands. "Would you like to taste this year's Sugar Tangerines?"

Xia Nan nodded slightly and accepted the tangerine handed to him without a word. He simply shot a glance at Margaret beside him, signaling her to continue.

He had already explained what intelligence they needed to gather while they were at the "Woolen Rusty Nail" inn, so there was naturally no need to say anything more now.

Silently grasping his meaning, Margaret warmly picked a fallen leaf off the girl's shoulder. With just a few words, they quickly became acquainted, and Margaret smoothly steered the topic toward the town and its highly respected priest.

The orchard girl, who lacked much life experience, was practically defenseless against the female swordsman's conversational offensive.

The moment the name "Moin" was mentioned, her eyes immediately lit up, revealing a heartfelt reverence.

"You mean Grandpa Moin?" The girl's crisp voice carried deep respect. "He is an envoy sent by the great [Grain Goddess] to protect us. As far back as I can remember, Grandpa Moin has been the priest at the church. He watched almost everyone in town grow up, even the older uncles and aunts. Without him, my family wouldn't have this Orange Orchard, and... I might not even be here."

A look of reminiscence appeared in the girl's clear eyes.

She turned her head slightly, her gaze falling on the thickest, most heavily laden orange tree in the very center of the orchard.

"That was when I was little, maybe five or six. The orchard's harvest was terrible that year, and the winter was exceptionally cold. The snow was so deep it blocked our door. I came down with a high fever, and they said my forehead was as hot as burning charcoal. Even the town's herbalist granny just shook her head when she saw me."

The girl paused, her eyes growing distant, as if drifting back to that faraway, freezing snowy night.