Chapter 10: Infiltrating Cropp

At 4 a.m., a strong biological clock awakened Neo from his sleep. In an iron box placed on an egg-shaped rock around the campfire, the stew was still warm. He added a few more pieces of wood to the fire, wiped his face with snow from outside the cave, had a quick meal, and then began packing his belongings unevenly.

By the time Neo went out in the afternoon, Dave had already taken out the armor from the bag and polished it carefully. It was clear he had done his job thoroughly.

As Manmoris’s only son, Dave didn’t have to work part-time at a baron’s or viscount’s household from a young age. But that didn’t mean his daily life was easy. He served as a stablehand, handled chores, acted as a servant, and even managed part of Manmoris’s warehouse—responsible for inventorying and maintaining metal weapons and armor. If anything was damaged, he would usually contact Neo for repairs. In addition, Dave spent time each day studying history, etiquette, military affairs, music, and combat skills. Life wasn’t easy, but it cultivated his overall competence and gave him a mind and abilities far superior to those of his peers.

Neo glanced at Dave, who was sleeping against the stone wall. He had high hopes for this young man; otherwise, he wouldn’t have suggested he go to an institution under the Holy Church. Indeed, such places were excellent for training and development, but they were also extremely demanding. Those who lacked resilience would become disheartened and unable to recover from the endless pressures and fierce competition.

“There are no shortcuts to hard work. Let’s encourage each other!” Neo thought to himself.

For this mission, Neo chose only rough-leather underarm armor, along with greaves and gauntlets—standard light armor for swordsmen. The greaves covered from the soles of the feet to the knees, and the gauntlets from the fingertips to the elbows. For swordsmen, they served both as protective gear and as basic weapons. The protruding spikes and ridges on the toes, fists, elbows, and knees made it clear that these could be deadly weapons.

Though the sound was soft, Neo’s movements as he put on the armor woke Dave up. It wasn’t a big problem—after more than a day of rest, Dave’s condition had already improved.

Seeing Dave awake, Neo didn’t say much and continued with his tasks. Although Dave was only 14, he would definitely defeat an ordinary adult in a fight. Coupled with his strong mental resilience, Neo always treated him as a young man, and Dave hoped to be seen that way too.

“What time is it?” Dave asked softly, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

“4.” Neo moved his wrists and tested them a few times to ensure there were no obstructions before fully locking the adjustment mechanisms. Neo’s gauntlets were exquisitely crafted. It could be said that his skill in “precision manufacturing” was honed through making gauntlets—both his own and those he repaired—for all users praised them highly.

“Going to Cropp?” Dave got up quietly to help Neo.

Although Neo could do it alone, having someone help made it faster. He didn’t refuse Dave’s offer, and everything proceeded naturally.

Nio nodded and tightened the leather strap on the outside of his thigh. The strap was threaded through the eyelets of his leather pants; pulling it tightened the two pieces of leather together, thus straining the entire pants. He tied a slipknot, then fastened each of the outer straps, completing the restraint for one thigh.

Fighting swordsmen were different from ordinary warriors or heavy-armored fighters—they required movement as swift and silent as the wind. Therefore, their armor was designed to be close-fitting, intricate, and practical. They generally avoided heavy armor, full-body suits that were airtight and seamless, and rarely used combinations like mail armor with plate armor. For fighting swordsmen, anything that hindered agility was a burden. They chose weapons and gear based on specific needs.

“If you kill a fighting swordsman, don’t expect to find a purse. Selling his armor and weapons to a blacksmith might bring you some surprises.” This somewhat sarcastic remark illustrated two points: 1) Fighting swordsmen tried to carry as few extra items as possible; 2) Their armor and weapons were carefully crafted, often featuring ingenious and unique designs.

There was also a half-joking saying: “To tell what kind of warrior someone is, just look at their weapon and where it’s held. Those with swords on their backs are fighting swordsmen; those carrying swords are heavy warriors; those with ‘turtle shells’ are shield warriors; those bare-chested with battle axes or hammers are berserkers; those equipped with swords, shields, bows, and crossbows (small crossbows) are novice warriors.”

Fighting swordsmen didn’t carry weapons at their waists, and their quivers, bows, and daggers also differed from ordinary ones, ensuring no clattering noise even as they moved around. Even their purses were belt-style compartments, with coins stuffed in side by side without touching each other. It was said that some merchants had adopted this idea and created coin armor—whether true or not, Nio had never seen it.

After putting on thin armor, they covered it with cotton coats, fur collars, and leg guards, all of which could be removed by pulling a string. Nio instructed Melian to make these from the skins of hunted animals and the cotton garments of the Dark Claws, cutting and sewing them from semi-finished materials—finished in just one afternoon. Melian’s craftsmanship wasn’t as elegant as usual, but it was tightly sewn and sturdy, much to Nio’s liking.

For this mission, Nio equipped himself only with a single sword and a purple-wooden bow.

“Prepare our luggage after dawn. When I return, we might have to leave this place,” Nio reminded her before leaving.

“Mm, be careful yourself.”

After seeing Nio go, Dave reinstalled the crude fence made of branches and grass. The cave was L-shaped, and at night, the firelight would easily reflect off the opposite stone wall. The fence also helped shield them from the cold wind—simple and practical, added by Dave, who had been praised by Nio for it.

White Socks accompanied Nio on this mission as well—both to save time and effort.

Nio felt that he and White Socks still needed to improve their communication and coordination. In his view, White Socks needed specialized training to become a competent comrade. Once they arrived at the destination, Nio let White Socks find a place to rest or play on its own, while he infiltrated from the west side of Croop.

To the west of Krop was a mixed forest of broadleaf and deciduous trees, where plants such as hawthorns, heathers, hollies, and ash trees could be easily seen. The forest was moderately dense and served merely as a barrier, with a thickness of just over 200 meters from east to west.

Adjusting the temporary forehead guard wrapped in cloth around his brow and his deep hood,Neo stepped into the forest.

Forehead guards were commonly used by wanderers, not so much to protect the forehead but to block light. Some battle helmets also featured upward-curving brims for the same purpose—to shield against direct light and help users adjust their visibility quickly in areas with drastic changes in light intensity.

Neo used the forehead guard mainly to cover his eyes.

As someone with “dark vision,” his eyes would emit a faint glow like a wolf’s in complete darkness, and this effect became even more pronounced when he transformed into a werewolf—a phenomenon known as “starlight eyes.”

When he had ample time to prepare, as in this case,Neo would make adjustments to his equipment and adopt different ways of seeing, essentially using cunning tactics to avoid being detected as a “ghostly light drifting through the forest” by his enemies.

This small woodland wasn’t suitable for supporting small animals. It was quiet and serene, and moving through it silently, one hardly felt the awe-inspiring atmosphere of a deep forest—though it did evoke a sense of romantic mystery. Unfortunately,Neo lacked such poetic sentiment at the moment, especially after discovering the traps.

Near the village,Neo sensed the presence of alarm tripwires.

Tripwires were a type of trap. Those here were well-placed and fairly standard in design, but their construction was crude, lacking any creativity or ingenuity. They clearly resembled traps set by soldiers.

Neo had participated in two military drills with the army, organized by Edrith involving private troops from various lords—once in the summer, once in the winter, and then again in summer… alternating like this, each lasting one month. The purpose was to enhance the private troops’ teamwork, combat skills, and so-called military discipline. In the words of those arrogant officers: “To make you bunch of ragtag folks look more like professional soldiers!”

“Oppressing the common people, acting as thieves and bandits—what kind of professional soldiers are those, huh?”Neo didn’t have a good impression of professional soldiers; at least those he’d met so far hadn’t been impressive, leaving him with preconceptions. And it seemed these ones weren’t any better!

After passing the alarm zone, the houses of Krop came into view ahead.Neo stood quietly behind a tree, making full use of his ears and sense of smell.

Soon, he located the position of the sentry. After noting it down, he moved to another spot to identify another sentry, then used his experience to determine the most ideal entry point between the two hidden sentries.

With the route chosen,Neo continued to wait. About ten minutes passed, and it was already past 5:30 a.m.

Aside from those with strict habits of going to bed early and rising early, this time of day was when people were most tired and slept deepest. Launching a surprise attack at dawn often took this factor into account.

Nio removed his outer cloak and fur collar, pressed the bowstring of the yew bow, strung it and secured it, tested it to ensure everything was in order, then checked himself from head to toe, confirming again that nothing was overlooked. Taking a deep breath, he shot forward at full speed. His running posture was as graceful as that of a cheetah, with powerful limb movements; his upper body was slightly forward, and each step covered about 7 meters. Within 3 seconds, Nio had covered roughly 30 meters, with barely any sound from his footsteps on the snow.

The two sentinels—one unaware of anything, the other sensing something moving at the edge of his vision to the north—by the time he lazily turned his gaze that way, there was nothing valuable left to see. Those on night duty knew such “visual illusions” happened eight or ten times a night; if they paid attention to every one, it would drive them to exhaustion. So the sentinel continued to hunch over, tapping his feet lightly, scanning slowly with his eyes, occasionally blowing on his hands and rubbing them together. This was both a result of explicit instructions from above and his own diligence. Under normal circumstances, he would need a stick to keep his eyelids from closing.

Leaning against the wooden wall of a cabin, sensing any movement while trying to calm his rapidly rising heartbeat, after about 15 seconds, Nio moved again. This time, his target was the most threatening one—the sentinel posted in the small bell tower of the village hall.

With the bow slung over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up, and a military blanket draped over him, the sentinel was huddled in the cold, half-asleep. Being dragged out of a warm bed to guard through the night in such weather was pure torture. Despite wearing thick clothes and a blanket, the cold seeped in, making him shiver from time to time. Fortunately, he had a flask of fine wine with him, which he sipped from time to time to ward off the cold and pass the time; otherwise, the night would have been unbearable.

There was snow on the ground, and the dark clouds in the sky had dissipated, making the night much brighter than usual. It was easier to spot large movements, which could lead to complacency. Nio managed to climb onto the roof from behind a corner without the sentinel noticing.

The slanted tile roof, covered in snow, was slippery and prone to making noise, but Nio moved with the steady grace and silence of a feline. This wasn’t due to racial talent but to the skills of a swordsman—consisting of rapid shifting of weight between the feet, like on a balance beam, swaying back and forth at high frequency but with small amplitude.

The small bell tower resembled a basket on the roof ridge, with the ridge line roughly at human thigh height. The main challenge in attacking the people inside the tower from the roof was concealment.

The final stretch was nerve-wracking for Nio. His target was getting closer, and a casual glance behind him could reveal him. Nio felt his heart in his throat, his breath barely audible.

Finally…

A sharp pain struck the back of his head. The sentinel’s vision went dark, and he lost consciousness. Nio reached out and caught the sentinel’s limp body just in time.

A minute later, the sentinel was tightly tied to one of the four pillars of the small bell tower, his eyes covered, his mouth stuffed with rag and bound with rope—so he couldn’t even shout if he woke up.

Removing the “tongue” of the bell that resembled a pestle, Neo turned around and began a quick search of the sentries, soon finding their military IDs, engraved with “Sols City Guard.” He hooked his hand onto the hook at the top of the hanging bell and pulled down with even force—it was very sturdy. Neo tied an extra rope to this hook and then climbed down slowly using it. The spiral staircase leading to the bell tower was wooden, making it difficult to navigate quietly without making noise.

At the bottom, there was a corridor parallel to the inner hall. Neo waited quietly for 10 seconds until the chill from his body subsided before turning left into the corridor and heading toward the inner hall.

The door to the inner hall was slightly ajar. Neo had seen the villagers meet there several times and was familiar with its layout: the door was at the far west end. Upon entering, there was a bookshelf against the left wall, facing a large table. To the right were four rows of eight stools each. Further in was a small wooden platform with a podium in the center. Two large round chandelier lamps hung from the ceiling, fueled by wax, which the villagers used sparingly…

In the corridor, Neo smelled a strong scent of alcohol mixed with sweat and foot odor, and heard snoring. Gently pushing open the slightly ajar door, he saw a mess—tables were covered with wine jars and cups, meat and bread were scattered on the tables, soaked in wine, and more debris lay on the floor. Stools and wooden planks served as makeshift beds. Seven people lay sprawled around the room; the most extravagant one was sleeping on the wooden platform, having somehow brought a bed from somewhere, likely due to some privilege.

Just like he had done to those Dark Cultists at the Malfoy Inn in Tulip Town, Neo took out the anesthetic he had prepared in advance and had these guys smell it. The purpose was slightly different—last time it was to kill them more effectively, but this time it was to capture them.

After dealing with these “seven pigs,” Neo calmly left the room, climbed the wooden stairs to the bell tower, which creaked noisily the whole way up. At the top, seeing that the sentries were starting to wake up, he picked up the “bell tongue” and hit one of them on the head again to cause more concussion.

Taking the rope back, he returned to the room and carefully performed painless shoulder dislocation surgeries on each of these city guards—removing their upper arms from their shoulders and lifting them like bags. Each was tied to a wooden plank, the same kind they used as beds, with their legs tied to the planks at the ankles. The same method was used for the next person. A single long rope was enough to tie all seven together. Next, he tore a piece of cloak, covered their eyes and mouths, tied it into a cloth rope around their heads, and secured it to the wooden planks—done!

Neo then placed the stools on the wooden platform, cleared the clutter from the tables, and pushed them aside. Now the space was cleared. When these guys woke up, the “break free from bonds” game would keep them busy.

Leaving the village hall, Neo headed straight to the grapeyard in the north, hoping to try his luck there.

At the edge of the garden was a barn connected to the stables, beneath which lay Croop’s largest wine cellar. From another perspective, it was also a decent prison—its only exit was a thick wooden door covered in iron and fitted with small iron bars, which left a deep impression on Neo.

The smell, the sound of breathing—after standing outside the storage room for a while, Neo was sure the situation inside was much as he had imagined.
Scritch! The large wooden door of the storage room was pushed open halfway.
“Who’s there?” The sergeant in charge of guarding the temporary prison was highly alert. As the door opened, cold air rushed in, and the campfire flickered, waking the two guards instantly. They reached for their weapons while demanding to know who was there in a stern voice.
They were by the campfire, in the light, while Neo was in the darkness, so they couldn’t see him clearly.
Hiss! Bang!
Two arrows shot at the questioning sergeant, aiming at his throat and heart. The force was so great that it sent the sergeant flying several meters before he crashed to the ground, the arrows protruding from his back—killing him on the spot.
Clang! The yew bow was thrown aside.
Hiss! The cross-shaped steel sword emerged from its sheath with a soft sound, emitting a cold blue glow in the light of the fire.
With steady footsteps, Neo stepped into the light cast by the campfire, his figure becoming visible.
The remaining sergeant glanced fearfully at his dead companion, then turned to Neo. Trembling, he drew his sword. Just as half of it was out, Neo rushed forward like a gust of wind, the steel sword drawing a magnificent arc through the air.
Snap! The sergeant’s sword was severed, along with his thick, metal-plated armor and the fine linen shirt beneath. Sparks and debris flew, but there was only a slight red mark on his chest. The precision was astonishing.
The sergeant was stunned, thinking he was dead. When he realized he wasn’t hurt at all, he felt an urgent need to urinate and almost wet himself.
“I’ll tell you everything I know without reservation, hoping to save my life. Is that what you want me to say?” Neo held his sword, staring coldly at the sergeant, his voice as icy as snow.
“Uh… yes!” The sergeant nodded hurriedly.
“Good. Throw away that junk in your hand, get the keys, be gentle, and then go open the door to the wine cellar.” Neo twisted his right wrist, and the steel sword spun, creating a dazzling flash of light.
“Okay…” Sweat beaded on the sergeant’s forehead. He carefully put down his broken sword, retrieved the keys from the dead sergeant’s body, and shakily walked down the sloping stairs to unlock the door.
The iron bolt was pulled out, and the heavy wooden door was opened. The sergeant huddled against the iron wall beside the door, waiting nervously for his fate. Neo stood halfway up the stairs, squinting inside.
There were people behind the door—six of them, all villagers. As prisoners, many villagers slept lightly or couldn’t sleep at all. Hearing the noise, a few strong young men stepped forward near the door. They weren’t sure what was going on, and the dim light made it impossible to see Neo’s face. All they could see was the chilling glow of the steel sword. No one spoke; some clenched their fists. The atmosphere was tense.
“Is Asiborn here?” It was still Neo who spoke first.
After a long pause, “Yes!” someone in the crowd replied.
“What about Norlund?” Neo asked again.

The village chief and priest who could immediately call out Croop’s name, and whose voices also seemed familiar, made the few people standing at the door breathe a sigh of relief.
“He’s here too.” This time, the reply was immediate.
Then, someone behind the villagers asked, “Nio?” There was disbelief in their voice.
“Ebut!?” Nio was also surprised, or rather astonished.
Ebut was one of Lord Manmores’ guards, around Nio’s age, a handsome and sunny young man, and the lord’s nephew. His role was both personal guard and messenger for the lord. Rumors in the town suggested that Ebut was the child of Lord Manmores and his deceased sister-in-law. Indeed, Ebut did bear a striking resemblance to the lord—about five or six parts alike. In contrast, Dif, though handsome, didn’t share a single feature with the lord, from his facial structure to his hair color, eyes, nose, and mouth.
Nio had no interest in the complex blood relations among the nobility. What mattered to him was that, generally speaking, seeing Ebut meant seeing Lord Manmores. He wondered if that would still be true this time. After all, he had only heard about the lord’s death; he hadn’t seen it, nor had Milien or Dif.
“It really is you!” Ebut said joyfully.
Immediately afterward, he answered on his own: “Lord Manmores is here!”