Chapter 246: Finding Morrow

"Hold on," Evren said with a calm smile, pressing his foot firmly down on the accelerator.

Instead of braking, the armored transport rushed forward with terrifying momentum. Evren rolled down his side window slightly and extended his left hand toward the charging swarm.

"Down," he commanded softly.

A massive wave of pressure slammed into the gorge floor as Evren expanded his Gravity Domain across the roadway. The invisible force struck the canyon crawlers like falling boulders, crushing them instantly into the cracked asphalt with snapping bones.

Several beasts on the higher cliffs leaped through the violet mist, aiming directly for the vehicle’s roof with bared fangs. Zephyra thrust her palm outward, unleashing thin spikes of solid shadow that impaled the airborne monsters mid-jump.

A massive alpha crawler lunged from the edge of the spatial fissure, its razor-sharp tail whipping forward with enough force to pierce iron. Evren flicked his wrist, and a brilliant bolt of lightning ripped through the air with a deafening crack.

The lightning bolt struck the alpha dead center, disintegrating its torso in a blinding flash of golden embers.

As the beast dissolved into ash, a fist-sized purple crystal tumbled from the carcass. Evren’s Core Siphon passive engaged instantly, drawing the glowing monster core through the air and streaming it smoothly into his spatial storage ring.

The armored transport plowed straight through the clearing smoke and debris. Its reinforced suspension easily absorbed the bumps as it crested the far side of the fissure. Within moments, the dark ravine and the shrieking beasts were left far behind in the rearview mirror.

Zephyra checked the dashboard sensor readouts, watching the spatial radiation readings drop back to normal. "A Level-76 mutated fissure core," she noted with a faint smirk. "That single beast would have ripped Maddox’s entire gang to shreds."

"Which explains why he wanted our transport so badly," Evren replied with a chuckle, easing off the throttle. "Though I doubt he would have lasted ten seconds once the rift mist touched his windshield."

Zephyra settled back into the leather passenger seat, her violet eyes gazing ahead. "He was an amateur trying to act like a predator, and frontier outlaws always overestimate their luck."

"Let’s hope our reclusive scholar is more sensible," Evren said as the highway leveled out.

Ahead of them, the jagged cliffs opened up into a breathtaking mountain valley surrounded by emerald slopes and misty waterfalls. Nestled in the heart of the basin was the secluded settlement of Oakhaven.

Unlike the sprawling steel towers of the Capital, Oakhaven looked like a town forgotten by time. Slate-roofed timber houses lined winding cobblestone streets, while terraced herbal gardens climbed the lower foothills behind ancient stone walls.

Zephyra looked across the peaceful green basin, observing the absence of steel patrol towers and automated defense barriers. "This valley feels completely cut off from the rest of the empire."

"That is exactly why Dr. Morrow chose it I guess," Evren replied, guiding the transport down the winding valley access road. "When the Imperial Council purged the research division thirty-four years ago, anyone who wished to survive had to vanish entirely."

"Do you believe he will listen to us?" Zephyra asked quietly. "A man hunted by the Capital for three decades will likely view any stranger with suspicion."

"We are not here to enforce imperial decrees or demand obedience," Evren smiled warmly. "We come as scholars seeking answers, and truth tends to open doors that authority cannot."

Fresh scents of pine, ginseng, and woodsmoke filled the air as Evren drove the transport through the wooden gates. Local villagers in simple clothes and work boots looked up with curiosity as the military vehicle passed by.

Evren parked the rig in a quiet gravel courtyard beside the central market square, under the shade of an enormous weeping willow. He engaged the security perimeter, pocketed the ignition token, and stepped out beside Zephyra.

"We keep our weapons sheathed and keep a low profile," Evren instructed in a relaxed tone. "Let’s start at the market square and ask around."

"Understood, boss," Zephyra agreed, adjusting her dark coat to conceal the hilt of her whip-blade.

They entered the lively market plaza, where vendors displayed wild mountain herbs, dried mushrooms, and jars of golden forest honey. Evren spotted an elderly herbalist sorting bundles of dried mountain roots on a wooden trestle table.

"Pardon the interruption, elder," Evren greeted him politely. "We are travelers looking for Doctor Alistair Morrow, and we wondered if you could point us toward his clinic."

The herbalist paused his sorting, squinting at Evren through round wire spectacles with an amused grunt. "Morrow? Never heard of any Morrow in these parts, young man."

"Are you certain?" Evren asked. "He would be a senior physician or researcher."

"I’ve lived in Oakhaven for fifty years, boy," the old man chuckled, wiping dried soil from a root. "We have Millers, Stones, and Thornes, but no fancy surnames, so you won’t find any doctor by that name here."

Evren thanked the elder and crossed the street toward a two-story timber building marked with an herbal mortar sign. Inside the shop, the scent of crushed eucalyptus and boiling camphor filled the air.

A stout woman with ink-stained fingers was rhythmically pounding roots inside a stone mortar behind the wooden counter. She glanced up at them with sharp, tired eyes.

"If you need frost-bite ointment, it’s two silver coins a jar," the apothecary owner stated bluntly. "If you’re selling wild ginseng, let me inspect the roots first."

"We are actually looking for an imperial scholar named Alistair Morrow," Evren said politely. "We were told he might have settled in this valley."

The woman snorted loudly, setting down her stone pestle with a dull thud. "Imperial scholars in Oakhaven? You have taken a very wrong turn, traveler."

"No retired alchemists or researchers living nearby?" Zephyra inquired in a calm, smooth tone.

"The folk in this valley brew their own remedies and cure their own ailments," the woman answered, crossing her arms. "The last scholar who came from the Capital tried to claim the mountain springs as state property, and the town council ran him out with hunting hounds."

Zephyra set three silver coins onto the counter and picked up a small tin of throat lozenges. "We appreciate your time."

They walked back into the open courtyard, standing near the shade of the willow tree to confer. The cool mountain wind rustled the willow leaves above them, carrying the distant murmur of the marketplace.

"I should have realized sooner," Evren said quietly, leaning against the rough bark of the willow. "Morrow was condemned as an outlaw during the imperial purges thirty-four years ago, so there’s a high chance that a fugitive of his standing would never use his true name."

Zephyra nodded in agreement, scanning the perimeter of the square. "He would have discarded his identity the moment he crossed the provincial border. Did the case file contain any personal habits or physical descriptions?" Zephyra asked.

"The records were severely degraded, but a few details were preserved," Evren recalled, closing his eyes to review his memory of the classified dossier. "He was a brilliant botanist who dedicated his life to celestial flora and spirit-core catalysts."

"What else?" Zephyra prompted.

"He was known for an eccentric temperament and an obsession with pre-war laboratory glassware and brass measuring tools," Evren continued. "He preferred complete solitude, so he would never live in the center of town."

"A botanist working with rare celestial plants would need pure runoff and untainted soil," Zephyra reasoned, glancing toward the surrounding ridges. "He would reside higher up the mountain slopes, away from the smoke of the settlement."

"That gives us an exact profile," Evren smiled.

They turned toward an old fruit and mushroom vendor sitting beside a wicker basket near the edge of a cobblestone alley. Evren crouched down to match her eye level, offering a polite smile and purchasing a small wooden carton of dried mountain cherries.

"Excuse me, ma’am," Evren said in a pleasant tone. "Do you know of an older man living near the valley who collects strange plants? Or an eccentric scholar who keeps brass instruments and glass tubes?"

The vendor’s wrinkled face instantly broke into a knowing grin. "Oh, you mean that grumpy old hermit up on the northern ridge! Calls himself Gregory, though half the town thinks he’s completely mad because he spends all day talking to his glowing ferns."

"Does he welcome visitors?" Zephyra asked.

"Not on your life, dearie," the woman chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. "He throws empty clay pots and sour apples at anyone who walks past his gate, and last month he chased two woodcutters away with stinging nettles."

"Sounds like our man," Evren smiled, tossing an extra silver coin into her palm. "How do we find his cottage?"

"Take the dirt path behind the old waterwheel," the vendor told him, pointing a gnarled finger toward the northern slope. "Follow the creek up through the pine terrace until you see the stone cottage with the crooked glass chimney."

Before Evren could thank her, soft footsteps sounded on the stone pavement behind them.

A young woman stepped out from the covered walkway of a nearby tea shop. She wore sturdy leather boots, durable canvas travel pants, and a wide herbalist satchel slung across her chest.

Her dark hair was tied back in a neat foraging braid, and her sharp hazel eyes swept over Evren and Zephyra with careful scrutiny. She took in their spotless coats, their composure, and the confident stance that marked them as seasoned fighters.

She stopped five paces away with a calm and fearless expression. "I heard you’re looking for my grandfather."