125 You Mu

The end of spring and the beginning of summer is a marvelous time for travel. One avoids both the biting chill of early spring and the sweltering heat of the summer solstice, while still capturing the final, brilliant flourish of the season. It is, in every sense, the last golden window for a spring outing.

Theresa held the reins loosely, allowing her horse to amble along at a leisurely pace. She let her gaze wander over the hills, which were ablaze with wildflowers, and could not help but sigh with a profound sense of happiness. Having spent over a month in the Void, where the landscape was so dreadfully monotonous that she felt as though she were becoming colorblind, she cherished this vibrant display of life all the more.

"It is truly beautiful here, Nini. You certainly know how to pick a spot; your taste is impeccable," Theresa said, squinting contentedly as she soaked in the warmth of the sun, showering Benita with genuine praise.

Benita giggled at this, flicking her horsewhip casually. "Satisfied already? There is something even more beautiful further in. This area used to be a royal hunting ground and a spring retreat for the ladies of the court. Even now, few are allowed to enter, which is perfect for us—it saves us from having to squeeze in with the crowds. You have no idea how many people are out and about today. Come, let me take you deeper; there is a lake view that is just... absolutely stunning."

As she spoke, Benita urged her horse forward. Theresa smiled slightly and, with a gentle squeeze of her heels, followed at a steady pace.

The scenery was unique, the breeze was gentle, and the air was heavy with the scent of flowers. With such a good mood, Theresa felt invigorated even before they reached that supposedly breathtaking vista.

They were enjoying the ride when, upon cresting a small slope, they found their path blocked by a group of knights dressed as guards. The way they stood made it clear that they were barring entry.

Benita slowed her horse until she was side-by-side with Theresa. She frowned, looking visibly annoyed as she muttered, "Look, that is the crest of the Gardes family. It seems that scoundrel is throwing his weight around again... Tch, let’s go a different way. Just looking at those people ruins my mood."

Theresa smiled, turned her horse around, and deliberately chose a path in the opposite direction of the Gardes guards.

After they had ridden a good distance away, Theresa consoled the still-pouting Benita: "Come now, we came out to have a good time, don't let them spoil it."

Benita mumbled something under her breath, shook her head, and said with a touch of apology, "I brought you out to relax, and I almost ruined our day instead. Fine, since we cannot go to the lake, let’s head up the mountain. From there, you can see nearly half of the Imperial Capital; it’s a magnificent view as well."

Theresa had only wanted a change of pace, so she didn't care whether it was a lake or a mountain. She continued on, her good spirits restored.

***

Deep within the dense forest, disheveled, ragged figures fled in panic. Exhausted by long-standing hunger, they were gaunt and skeletal, possessing physiological traits entirely unlike those of ordinary humans—some had furry, pointed ears, others sported long tails, and some even had the heads of beasts. These creatures scrambling in terror were Orcs... or perhaps "Orc slaves" was a more accurate term.

Behind these desperate, fleeing slaves was a group of youths dressed in hunting attire. They moved in pairs or small groups of six or seven, laughing and jeering as they chased their prey. On a whim, they would fire arrows from a distance to goad the slaves into running faster, or they would take their time, aiming carefully for vital spots to pierce a throat or chest with a single shot. Each hit was met with cheers or jeers, and a miss was greeted with mockery. To them, these slaves were nothing more than common magical beasts, and they indulged in the "hunt" with reckless abandon.

*Whoosh.* An arrow tore through the air, piercing the back of a fleeing Tiger-kin Orc. The sheer force of the shaft punched through his throat, carrying the momentum of the strike to propel the body forward for over a meter before it collapsed, lifeless.

A chorus of applause, cheers, and praise erupted. It goes without saying that such a unified reaction from these spoiled aristocrats could only be triggered by the handiwork of Obar Gardes.

He slowly relaxed his grip on the bow, nodding with satisfaction as he surveyed his trophy. "Hmm, not bad. That shot today had real feeling."

As he spoke, Obar Gardes handed the bow behind him. Joans caught it instantly and added with a smile, "Your timing and spirit were perfect today, my lord. Truly a marvelous shot."

This remark struck a chord with Obar. What did it mean to have "perfect timing and spirit"? It was the level of an archery master! Joans’s flattery was calculated, and it put Obar in an excellent mood.

Laughing, Obar teased Joans, "What’s the matter, our resident mage? Don't you want to try your hand at it?"

Joans shook his head with a bitter smile. "My teacher has given me a new set of assignments, and my mana is drained every morning. How could I possibly aim now? I'd be lucky if I didn't drench myself instead of hitting the target."

This only amused Obar further. He roared with laughter, "Fine, then you’re out of luck. Hunting parties like this don’t happen every day. Tch, if you're going to hunt, it’s much more satisfying to practice on these low-born creatures. Spending every day hunting those docile, domesticated magical beasts is completely boring. Besides, if the Orcs are this pathetic, why are there so many battle reports from the front lines every year? I wonder how the soldiers at the border are training; they must be utterly useless."

This was a difficult topic to engage with, so Joans simply smiled. His eyes darted around until they landed on a man—Tatu.

Joans signaled for him to approach and introduced him to Obar. "My lord, this is my attendant, Tatu. He was the one responsible for keeping an eye on Pedia Aubrion."

Seeing Obar nod indifferently, Joans turned to Tatu and asked, "Why are you here? Any news on Pedia?"

"Pedia Aubrion and Theresa Borger have entered the private residence of the Natural Kingdom's ambassador to the capital. The latter is currently under the guardianship of Mu, the Chief Executive Assistant of the Natural Kingdom. After resting for two days, they both went out today. Pedia Aubrion went to visit some old friends of Amos Aubrion, while Theresa Borger went out with Benita of the Aslam family. They are currently heading toward the summit of Mount Qiliya."

The report was brief and clear, highlighting all the key information. Tatu’s conciseness pleased Obar, who had been somewhat distracted. He nodded in approval, looked Tatu up and down, and then said to Joans, "I heard you have a capable man under your command, one with extraordinary martial prowess. This must be him, right?"

"You are too kind, my lord," Joans replied humbly. "Tatu is just strong; I wouldn't call his martial arts extraordinary. He is simply willing to endure hardship and work hard, so he’s a bit better than the average person."

"If you have capable people under your command, let them show it. Don't suppress them," Obar said, adopting the tone of a mentor. He studied Tatu, and the more he looked, the more satisfied he became—Tatu was tall and broad, his body radiating a sense of raw, reliable power.

Having taken a liking to Tatu, Obar grew interested. He gestured with his right hand, tossing the bow he had been using toward him. "Come, come. There’s a perfect opportunity today. Let’s see if this 'warrior' of yours lives up to the name."

The followers buzzed with murmurs of agreement. Joans, however, felt his face go pale. Of everyone present, he knew Tatu best; he knew that the man possessed a stubbornness few could comprehend and was certainly not one to be ordered around. The problem was that Obar Gardes was exactly the type of person who loved to dominate others.

...

The situation was spiraling in the direction Joans dreaded most. Tatu stared at the bow lying at his feet in silence, while Obar’s expression shifted from playful to cold. Just as the tension was about to snap, Tatu reached down and picked up the bow. He knelt and performed a knight’s salute to Obar. "My lord, if you wish to test my skill, forgive my arrogance, but these slaves are hardly a measure of my true ability. Please, allow me the liberty to take a different shot."

Obar’s expression softened slightly as he stared intently at Tatu, his gaze dark and unreadable. After a long moment, he suddenly laughed. "Good! Good! Good! A capable man should have some spirit. Very well, take your shot and let’s see!"

The implication was clear: if the shot was impressive, he would acknowledge Tatu's ability and tolerate his pride. But if the shot was a failure... well, the consequences would be far worse than a simple insult.

Tatu seemed completely oblivious to the veiled threat. He stood up, squinting at the sky. A short while later, a flock of young Golden-Winged Rocs appeared in the distance. Tatu nocked an arrow and aimed toward the heavens.

"Release!" With a fierce shout, the bowstring snapped back like a full moon, and the arrow flew like a shooting star. By the time the arrow vanished, the whistling sound of its passage arrived a beat too late. A single shot that stunned everyone present!

But Tatu’s performance wasn't over. With two more sharp shouts, he fired a second and third arrow. The shafts flew like streaks of fire, one after another, piercing into the flock of Golden-Winged Rocs, felling more than a few in a single sequence... (To be continued)