Chapter 2046 - 549: Another Use for the Soul (2)

Of course, this isn't because these country squires are so compassionate, it's simply because they heard that His Grand Duke and the legendary Prince are about to arrive.

To make a good impression in front of these truly important figures, these nobles from remote areas displayed enthusiasm higher than that during festivities.

"Hurry up!"

"Damn it, haven't you eaten? Set up that tent! And you, what are you standing around for? You over there, go and boil the water!"

"What? You're the tent guy? Then come back!"

A baron with a beer belly rode on a sturdy warhorse, waving a horsewhip, sweating profusely, and shouting loudly in the camp.

His lavish silk attire was soaked with sweat, clinging tightly to his bulging belly, looking unspeakably comical.

Clark stood a little distance away, rubbing his forehead helplessly.

It would have been better if the lord hadn't shouted; with that shout, the already chaotic servants became even more like headless flies, with the tent-setters picking up ladles and the porridge-makers wielding sticks.

Well then…

He's happy, but the people below are suffering.

Luckily, the baron soon felt he had shown enough, or perhaps became impatient with the smell here, and hurriedly left with a few attendants, saying he was going to meet the Grand Duke's carriage.

Once these noisy lords left, the camp finally returned to order. The tent-setting chap lit up a roll-up and finished his work in the time it took to smoke a cigarette.

By the way, ever since the Roxsey 1053 Rifle was equipped, people found that using paper to wrap gunpowder significantly improved loading efficiency, and soon applied this craftsmanship to cigarettes.

Although some had done this before, "Roxsey 1053" popularized this technology... which probably even Prince Roxey Colin himself hadn't anticipated.

"Saint Sis above... thank you!"

A survivor who had just finished drinking hot porridge trembled as he held Clark's hand, speaking with a choking voice.

"If it weren't for you... we would have truly died in that hellish place!"

That hand was as dry as a twig, and black scabs of blood remained beneath the nails, with teary gratitude filling the cloudy eyes.

Clark awkwardly withdrew his hand, grinned, his smile carrying the rugged and plainness unique to border soldiers.

"No need to thank me..."

Honestly speaking, he couldn't bear this "thank you"; after all, these lucky ones surviving really had nothing to do with him.

Last night, everyone at the lookout slept through the night, and even now he didn't know what exactly happened in the north.

Looking at the somewhat revitalized face of the other party, Clark hesitated for a moment and couldn't hold back his curiosity, lowering his voice to ask.

"Last night... what on earth happened?"

The survivor's pupils contracted, eyes flashed with momentary confusion, and he spoke like he was talking in his sleep.

"I don't know... It was too dark at the time, and it was all chaos. I heard someone shouting, then started running, halfway through I heard someone saw a group of dwarfs riding on giant spiders rushing into the cave, killing ratmen on sight..."

Dwarfs?

Riding spiders?

Clark raised an eyebrow in slight surprise.

Although there are indeed dwarfs and Earth Cave Spiders in the Ten Thousand Ridges Mountain Range, since when did these two creatures team up?

This sounds like a preposterous tale cooked up by a drunken Minstrel.

But he didn't ask further.

In that pitch-black night, those captives focused on escaping probably had no opportunity to discern their saviors' true faces.

Perhaps they were mercenaries, or maybe some other forces.

And those people might not have come specifically to save, there might be interests behind it that individuals like him couldn't comprehend.

Clark shook his head, deciding to let those doubts stay buried within him.

After all, the big shots from the Royal Railway Company had arrived; such brain-racking matters, better left for them to worry about.

...

The sun tilted west, a rush of hooves broke the camp's outside silence.

Since the Royal Railway Company's train only reached the western Spinor Castle, the remaining journey had to be measured by hoofbeats.

Luo Yan and Erin did not ride a comfortable carriage; instead, they changed fast horses along the way, dashing travel-worn to the northern side of Cold Crow City.

Accompanying them were only Theresa, Sarah, and over twenty elite trusted aides.

Although Luo Yan and Sarah were not first-timers here, they tacitly pretended this was their first visit.

"Whoa—"

The warhorse neighed, halting at the camp entrance.

Sarah dismounted agilely like a falling leaf, then naturally approached Luo Yan.

"Leave it to me, Your Highness."

As she spoke, she naturally took the reins from Luo Yan's hand, expertly tying the horse to the camp's stake.

As the Demon King's most considerate guardian, Sarah was as reliable as ever, as if there was no detail in this world she couldn't attend to.

Seeing this, Theresa wanted to learn a hand at the "Imperial Guard's" attentiveness.

However, as she reached out intending to take Erin's reins, she discovered her capable mistress had already deftly jumped off the horse and skillfully tied a nice rope knot.

Campbell nobility's handiness is still too strong, Theresa couldn't help but worry for the Prince; it's said imperial nobles prefer delicate ladies.

As for where she heard this...