The inn was old and worn, with rotting wood in the beams and the sour stench of spilled beer. The owner, a green-skinned orc with deep scars on his arms, watched me with predatory, greedy eyes from behind the cracked counter. His sausage-like fingers snatched the copper coins I counted out one by one, like claws ready to snap shut.
— "Two days: 60 coins," he growled, his voice like the creak of a rusted door. — "Plus 30 for yesterday's bath."
He grinned, revealing yellowed, jagged tusks. — "Charity doesn't exist in the Undercity, boy. Good thing you're leaving..." — He leaned forward, his rancid breath hitting my face — "...before someone comes to collect the rest."
My nearly empty coin pouch weighed less than my disdain for this place. 72 coins. Enough for two bowls of mushroom stew or a few more days at a roadside inn. 'I'll need to pick up odd jobs along the way,' I thought, brainstorming possibilities. Herb gathering? Cargo hauling? Nothing a novice cultivator couldn't handle.
Jack's map, stained with grease and tobacco, showed winding paths between towns. Among them, a heavily marked line highlighted the route: Haifang → Zherwood → Velmire → Rivercalm. The jagged trail looked hastily drawn, cutting through forests and rivers like a poorly healed scar.
The sun was high when I left Haifang's gates behind. The scorching heat made the air shimmer. That's when I spotted them: three heavy wagons, piled high with barrels and sacks, pulled by towering warhorses. Surrounding the convoy were men in rusted armor—mercenaries clearly hardened by life on the road.
One of them, a tall brute with a scar splitting his bearded chin into uneven halves, spat on the ground as he noticed me watching.
— "Lookie here, a lone traveler," he mocked, stroking the handle of his battle-axe like a pet. — "Wanna tag along, kid? We'll even let you lick the wagon wheels... after the horses, of course. Wuwahaha!"
His companions laughed with rough chuckles, but their eyes remained cold and calculating as sharpened blades. I narrowed my eyes but kept a safe distance, pretending not to hear the taunts, and continued walking.
Zherwood was three hours away, according to Jack. Three hours under a sun that burned like live coals, turning the road into an open furnace. The barren landscape stretched endlessly, dotted only with twisted shrubs.
The mercenaries and their wagons soon vanished ahead but left behind involuntary gifts: deep wheel ruts in the packed earth, half-eaten fruit peels tossed roadside, and even fresh horse dung. I followed these signs like beacons, capitalizing on the trail blazed by those arrogant fools.
'He who laughs last...' I thought with a scornful smirk, walking safely and calmly. If dangers lurked along the path—bandits, beasts, or worse—the mercenaries had already cleared them. Every footprint, every broken branch at the roadside signaled a safe passage.
When Zherwood finally appeared on the horizon, it proved a pleasant contrast to the Undercity I'd left behind. Neat rows of well-maintained wooden houses with brightly painted facades and perfectly thatched roofs. Thriving shops displayed goods in clean windows, while uniformed guards patrolled the streets with professional airs.
'What a welcoming place,' I thought, relief easing my shoulders as I admired the town. The entrance sign, carved from noble wood and carefully painted, swayed gently in the wind, announcing in ornate letters:
"Welcome to Zherwood: Home of the Zher Trees"
No sign of the arrogant mercenaries, just a few merchants organizing their wagons for the next journey. That's when I noticed the old woman leaning against the town sign. Her weary eyes watched me with a mix of curiosity and concern.
— "Heading to Velmire, eh?" she coughed, her voice weathered by time. — "Don't take the main road at night. A pack of night wolves prowls the outskirts. Those beasts hunt any fool daring to travel after sunset."
— "Wolves?" I asked, a chill running down my spine, but she was already turning away, shuffling toward the safety of the town streets.
The two guards at the town entrance loomed imposingly in polished armor. The taller one, a veteran with a grizzled mustache and eyes marked by endless vigils, raised his hand authoritatively.
— "Halt, traveler. Entry fee: 5 copper coins," he announced, his voice rough as aged bark.
My heart sank. 5 coins—nearly a tenth of what I had left. But resistance was futile. I paid with a resigned nod, and before he could turn away, I seized the chance:
— "Is there someone who can guide me about the town?"
The guard studied my face, his eyes scanning my emptied pouch and dusty clothes. For a moment, I thought he'd refuse. Then, with a grunt, he pointed down a cobblestone street:
— "Look for Miss Jina in the central square. Silver hair, always carrying a notebook. She welcomes newcomers."
I thanked him with a nod and pressed on, my footsteps echoing on polished stones.
The central square was a small oasis of order: bubbling fountains, carved wooden benches, and at its heart, a stylized tree statue. There, I saw her.
Jina was younger than I'd expected, but her green eyes sparkled with wisdom beyond her years. Her silver hair—a stark contrast to her sun-kissed skin—was tied in a messy ponytail, and a red-bound notebook rested in her hands.
— "New in town?" she asked before I could speak, a sly smile on her lips.
I explained my situation: dwindling coins, the need for work, the journey to Rivercalm. She listened silently, nodding here and there.
— "Hehe... we've been needing brave souls," she said finally, snapping her notebook shut. — "Are you one?"
Without waiting for an answer, she pivoted and signaled me to follow. As we walked streets flanked by carved wooden houses, she explained:
— "Slimes by day, wolves by night." Her gaze darkened. "The Zher Trees are our livelihood, but with these pests, the leaf harvest is impossible."
I stopped abruptly.
— "Zher Trees?"
She smiled, as if she'd hooked a fish.
— "The heart of Zherwood. Their leaves are distilled into Qi Gathering Pills—sold to alchemists in Velmire. Without them..." She let the sentence hang, but I understood. The town would die.
— "How much for dead slimes?" I asked, masking my interest.
Jina laughed, the sound clear as spring water.
— "10 copper coins per intact core," she replied, still smiling.
After finalizing the job details with Jina for the next day, I asked about affordable lodging. Without hesitation, she led me to the Ruthia Inn, owned by her longtime friend.
— "Wait here," Jina said before entering alone.
Minutes dragged as I watched street activity until Jina finally reappeared, her triumphant smile saying it all.
— "Done! You can stay tonight. We'll meet at the central square tomorrow to start work."
I nodded and bid Jina farewell after thanking her.
Upon entering, I was greeted by Ruthia—a stout woman whose piercing gaze seemed capable of dissecting lies with a blink. Her crossed arms and firm posture made it clear who ruled here.
— "I already know everything about you," she announced, skipping formalities. — "Room in the back, hot bath only for this first night, and dinner included. We'll discuss lodging terms tomorrow."
I nodded and headed down the hall to the room Ruthia had pointed out.
The room was modest: a simple bed with a straw mattress, a small window barely letting in the last sunlight, and a worn wardrobe. As the door closed, I sat on the wooden floor and closed my eyes, recalling Alice's teachings.
— "Focus on the flow of Qi," her voice echoed in my memory. — "Feel it like a river within you."
But something felt different. The Qi in my body responded oddly, as if recognizing something in the environment. The Zher Trees outside seemed to emit a subtle pulse that made my inner energy vibrate in response.
— "What the hell...?" I murmured, opening my eyes in surprise.
The moment of discovery was interrupted by firm knocks on the door.
— "Dinner in ten minutes, Ishida!" Ruthia barked from the hallway.