"Have we made it already?" A lucid tone drifted from within the carriage.
"Yes, Young Master. It appears the phenomenon drew far more attention than we expected. A large number of cultivators and merchants have already pitched tents outside the forest. I reckon there are many others within, especially from the sects." said the coachman with utmost respect.
By the time they arrived, evening had already fallen—it was the first day after the occurrence.
Their ride had been the Earth‑Glaze horses, beasts at the peak of the Iron Realm, with great endurance.
"Ohh. We arrived late." said the same voice from within the carriage.
"Not exactly, Young Master. No one has sharper eyes for treasures than you. We merely gave them a chance to compete. They are surely no match for you. Even if we let them play a little longer, you will still claim the finest spoils the instant we begin our search." the Head Coachman replied, his tone polished and reverent.
On hearing this, Balin calmed somewhat. Angering this young master was never wise—he remembered too well what had happened to the previous coachmen.
"There's no need to worry. Even if all the treasures were taken, there are always other ways to reclaim them, isn't there?" A smile appeared on Balin's face, a smile so sharp it could irk a nation.
"Haa! Absolutely!" the coachman readily agreed.
They could always 'collect' resources from others if the need arose—and needs always arose. His master outshone everyone he encountered, and he always believed himself second to none.
"Open." the voice commanded after a moment of silence.
The coachman quickly obeyed, opening the door. A dark‑skinned young man in silver robes stepped out, his mouth falling open the instant he saw the sprawling camp ahead. His gaze then shifted back to the coachman.
"Go find an inn quickly. We set out at dawn."
"Yes, Young Master."
Yes—it was Balin of the Alchemy Clan.
From the rear of the carriages, Shiva approached, stopping a meter away from Balin. "Sir Balin, how should we proceed?"
"The coachman has gone to find us rooms. You should rest and recover to your peak. We leave at dawn." His smile grew wild as he added, "You may also occupy the room adjacent to mine."
Harumph!
Shiva snarled coldly. "Not happening. My job is to guard and protect, if you will excuse me." She wasn't tempted in the least as she stamped the ground and strode away.
Balin could only smile bitterly. She seemed determined to put up a strong front.
The coachman returned after some time, panting as he reported, "Young Master, we've got a situation. We managed to secure four rooms, but someone occupying the fifth refused to yield." He had come alone, without a guard, knowing the matter was delicate.
"Who dares to drag on matters concerning this young master?" Balin's voice rang loud, carrying across the plain. He continued, "Didn't you tell them who seeks the room?"
"I did," the coachman replied hurriedly. "But it turns out to be Master Simley of the Blacksmith Clan. In the scuffle, his men seized two of the rooms we secured and stationed guards to hold them. That left us with only two rooms, and they threatened to take the remaining two unless the place was kept in absolute quietness."
The coachman's words tumbled out quickly as he added, "We were no match for them, so we retreated."
Balin was genuinely baffled and angered by the setup. After securing four rooms and merely 'seeking' the fifth, some fool named Simley had abruptly reduced their claim to two. It was clear he was being looked down upon.
Ultimate quietness?
It seemed his name and deeds hadn't reached this place, and thus his influence carried no weight here. If he did nothing, it would be a slap to his face and a stain upon his clan. He would surely lose the hard‑earned reputation he had built.
"I'm clearly not a wicked person. People just have to force my hand." Balin said, his tone edged with menace. Shiva snarled in response, her lips curling into an evil smile.
"I'm not entitled to help you with skirmishes such as this." Shiva replied coldly.
"Who is asking for your hand? What do you take me for?" Balin scoffed, his gaze darting toward the middle carriage. There were three carriages in total.
"Hamizz!" he shouted. Immediately, the door parted and a burly man stepped out, followed by four others, all clad in black attire.
"You and your men should go deal with the freak." Balin commanded with authority.
Balin knew Shiva would never follow his every command, so he had hired mercenaries whose hearts were so dark they would do anything for energy crystals or the like.
Hamizz and his henchmen immediately departed with hurried footsteps, as though they wished they had more legs to carry them faster.
"He declares absolute quietness, huh? I'd like you to show him how the Shaffa Clan defines quietness." Balin shouted, his true purpose being to draw the attention of others.
It worked.
Heads turned, and whispers spread as people directed their gaze toward the King‑Sea Inn. The inn soon became the focal point of curiosity.
___
In a particular room within the King-Sea Inn…
Bhahahahaaa...
Sounds of laughter echoed across the room as the people reveled in liquor and food, already forgetting the earlier incident as though it had been nothing more than a cockroach swept aside.
Six individuals sat facing each other around a long, thick mat that stretched across the center. At the head sat a single man, his attire radiating luxury in every respect. Five to seven women hovered about his hardened frame as if he were a rare treasure worth killing for.
Two men stood guard at the exit within the room, their weapons sheathed but their presence unmistakable.
Among the group, a single man appeared to laugh the loudest, and unlike the others, he was the only one without a... plaything.
"The Sharp‑Hind Grass will be ours in no time. The Thundering Sword Sect disciples were no match." he said with obvious excitement, lusting after the plant they had stumbled upon and dismissing the opponents they had already crushed.
"They thought we were easy prey because we are blacksmiths, easily pushed around. It suits them well." another scowled, his large teeth flashing.
"That is the only fate awaiting those who underestimate their opponents, especially in the wilds." said the woman seated at the far end of the row on the right.
Her eyes were dark, and she seemed to hold a subtle influence among those seated.
It so happened that both groups had stumbled upon an herb of rare value—one that could be used in alchemy and employed in other fields—the Sharp‑Hind Grass.
However, this herb alone was not enough to drive the opposing group into a killing frenzy. What truly ignited the conflict was that the Sharp‑Hind Grass was emitting the fluctuations of a peak grade‑three plant. More than that, its aura seemed to be progressing steadily toward the fourth grade.
A grade‑three herb could already earn its possessor a fortune. But a grade‑four herb? Such treasures were nearly nonexistent throughout the entire city. Most people had only heard rumors of them. Only alchemists had any real chance of encountering herbs of that caliber.
A grade‑four herb could never be left unattended, and so the altercation escalated beyond restraint.
"Miss Carly, I heard one got away. I hope he won't be a problem in the future." said the man seated at the head of the group.
"Not to worry, Young Master Simley. The injuries inflicted were grave, considering every strike was laced with low grade‑two poison. He won't make it far before he collapses and rots." Carly replied, her voice dripping with malice.
"Is that so? Then I am reassured. The location of the Sharp‑Hind Grass cannot be shared with others." Simley's voice shifted, holding a tint of cruelty. He cared nothing for Carly's attitude—her words mattered only if they served his purpose.
The others nodded heavily. None dared disobey when their young master turned serious.
They could have harvested the herb immediately, but doing so would regress it to a peak grade‑three plant, stripping away its advancing potential. Waiting a few more days would allow it to ascend into a grade‑four treasure.
A grade‑four herb was priceless. To leave it unattended was unthinkable. All of a sudden—
BAM…
The sound of something heavy crashing suddenly caught their attention, silencing the laughter and shifting every gaze toward the source.