Chapter 015: Prisoner
How is Chenchen’s master now?
He’s not well—far from it!
At this moment, Du Fan sat helplessly on what could barely be called a prison cart. It was called a prison cart only because Du Fan’s freedom was restricted to this place. In reality, it was just an ordinary cart used by the empire’s farms to transport fodder. Who knows where these barbarians got it from—they even nailed a few wooden planks to it and thought that made it a real prison cart? If I wanted to, Young Master Du Fan could escape from here at any time. Do you really think a few pieces of rotten wood can trap me?
Du Fan thought bitterly, but when he saw the gleaming swords in the hands of the dozens of people surrounding the cart, as well as the gloomy expressions of those barbarian strongmen who seemed determined to swallow him whole, he comforted himself: The time isn’t right… My fate as Young Master Du Fan…
In fact, ever since he was captured that day, Du Fan had comforted himself like this hundreds of times.
The prison cart moved slowly through the mountains. These barbarians, silent like mules and horses, somehow knew the way. Looking around, Du Fan saw that the endless procession must have numbered in the thousands. Could it be that these people really came to attack Ruigen City?
As he pondered, the group stopped in a small valley. Some barbarians went out to stand guard, while the rest started setting up camp and cooking. Everything was carried out in an orderly manner, which shocked Du Fan.
In less than half an hour, a temporary camp was built. Although most of it was constructed using the terrain, it was perfect for a camp in the mountains.
Du Fan idly counted on his fingers on the prison cart…
Three days? Hmm, almost four days, right?
That damned shaman priest captured me and threw me into the crowd, then disappeared for days. As a result, I’ve had to endure those crazy people with weird expressions every day, eating unknown-flavored dried meat they gave me—my taste buds have gone numb!
Fortunately, these lunatics still had some intelligence and weren’t stupid enough to walk around naked. Otherwise, Young Master Du Fan would get boil blisters—boil blisters!
Thinking of this, Du Fan secretly chuckled. Just a few days ago, he was still a honored guest in Rui City, planning to make a “great career” and reap more benefits once he returned to the capital. But who would have thought that in less than a day, he would become a prisoner? Life’s twists and turns are truly one climax after another; who knows when the next one will kill me, Du Fan…
Fuming at his fate, Du Fan thought he would find time to discuss why his life had turned out this way with that old pervert, the God of Light. At that moment, the barbarian warrior approached Du Fan’s prison cart, gave him a disdainful look, and said, “The High Priest wants you to go speak to him.”
Du Fan snorted. He knew that shaman priest was probably thinking about using that “Space Tear Slash” and speech magic on him. Though he didn’t understand why the priest had waited until now to summon him, the way those barbarians had treated him along the way made him think his life was probably safe for now. Hearing what the barbarian warrior said and seeing his expression, Du Fan snorted again and said, “Rude dog! Can’t you see I’m taking a nap? Just because you say so does it mean I have to go? Wait—once I’m done sleeping, I’ll go.”
The barbarian warrior glanced up at the sky. The sun was almost gone; it was by no means nap time. He held back his anger, wondering why the High Priest favored this Rolandian. Under normal circumstances, this man would have already been stripped naked by his brothers. With his delicate skin, a few brothers with peculiar tastes could satisfy their desires. But since the shaman priest held such high status among the barbarians, no one dared touch Du Fan. Now, ordered to treat this Rolandian politely, the warrior said, “Rolandian, never forget—without our High Priest’s orders, you’d be dead countless times by now. Aren’t you afraid the High Priest will kill you in anger for speaking like this?”
“If he wanted to kill me, why would he have captured me?” Du Fan sneered. “Besides, if it weren’t for you worthless fool showing up to cause trouble, your so-called High Priest would have died many times at my hands already. What am I afraid of such a worthless guy?”
The barbarian warrior held his anger inside, nearly passing out from it, but Du Fan was speaking the truth—among the barbarians, martial prowess was highly valued, and strength meant respect. Interfering with someone’s one-on-one fight was considered extremely shameful. Ruining Du Fan’s duel with the High Priest was already a profound humiliation in the eyes of this barbarian warrior, but he couldn’t say those words. Now, under Du Fan’s pressure, his face covered in runes turned bright red. Seeing his expression, Du Fan knew the man was almost driven mad. Along the way, due to these barbarians, he hadn’t been able to use any potions to restore his combat energy and magic, relying only on slow natural recovery. Although his strength had recovered by about 30-40%, he still wasn’t strong enough to match this barbarian warrior at full capacity, so Du Fan didn’t dare push him too far. With a look of disdain, he glanced at the barbarian warrior and said, “Alright, alright, don’t cry… You’re such a big guy, yet you just came to ask someone over. If you can’t get them, you cry—you’re really useless…” The barbarian warrior was so enraged he almost fainted on the spot. If it weren’t for the High Priest’s orders, he would have crushed Du Fan’s head right then. The barbarians guarding Du Fan could understand some of Roland’s language, and their faces immediately showed extreme confusion. The barbarian warrior, filled with shame and fury, mustered great effort to suppress his desire to kill Du Fan. Du Fan climbed down from the prison cart, and the barbarians beside him put down their weapons. He stepped forward, patted the barbarian warrior’s shoulder, and said, “Little friend, stop crying… I’ll go see your father with you now… Be good…” The barbarian warrior’s face turned dark. Without saying a word, he led Du Fan through the camp. Finally, they reached the center of the camp. He made a gesture, signaling Du Fan to enter, and before Du Fan could nod, he vanished into the forest in an instant. Several loud explosions rang out, destroying countless innocent trees. Du Fan stared in that direction, sighing softly, “Poor kid… gone mad like this… This is the tragedy of those with strong bodies but weak minds…” With a sigh, he tidied his messy clothes, lifted the tent flap, and slowly stepped inside.
For various reasons, this temporary tent was set up in a shallow pit, surrounded by thick animal furs. However, there were several small cracks on one side, through which a faint sound of wind could be heard. At the center of the tent, a small campfire burned, with white smoke tinged black rising slowly and escaping through the round hole at the top. A simple iron pot hung over the fire; it was unclear what was inside, but a smell of meat wafted out. The floor of the tent was covered with thick furs, and aside from a few stone blocks resembling chairs around the edges, it didn’t differ much from other barbarian tents. Was this the temporary dwelling of a barbarian shaman priest? Du Fan couldn’t help but feel some pity. To possess such strength yet live in such a place—this shaman priest was truly pitiful. If he were willing to work for him, it wouldn’t be impossible to give him a few gold coins as pocket money every day. Du Fan casually sat down on one of the round stones. He stared at the shaman priest, who still wore a mask, observing every detail of him. After that, Du Fan was finally convinced that this terrifying man must have regained much of his strength over these days. As Du Fan watched him, the other person was also watching him. Through the eye holes in the shaman priest’s strange mask, a gaze that was hard to describe shot out. The priest looked at Du Fan and seemed to smile suddenly, saying, “Kid… it’s better for you not to treat Stuart that way anymore. He’s hot-tempered and might not even listen to me. If he can’t help but kill you one day, don’t blame anyone but yourself for talking too much…” Du Fan snorted and said, “Stuart—is that the name of that guy with strong arms but a simple mind? Sir Shaman Priest, rest assured. I can tell he only has you in his heart… Your words are like divine orders… Oh, you probably don’t know what ‘divine orders’ mean, do you? Well, let me put it this way: to him, your words are oracles. As long as you don’t order him to kill me, no matter how much he hates me… he won’t even touch a hair on my head. Even if I’m in danger, he’ll surely come to save me… But if you want my life… that Stuart will definitely act without hesitation…”