Chapter Seventeen: Setting Out at Night

With a large stockpile of necessities not required for migration, along with enough snow boats and sleds, the disorganized group of refugees transformed into a rudimentary convoy.

“The Magicks, Sled Number 3; the Franks, you’re Sled Number 4 plus one snow boat. Put up labels where they’re visible, and give it a test ride—let us know if there are any problems!” The clerk called out names loudly and assigned vehicles.

“Rick, are there any large animals we can use for transportation?” Frank asked the clerk, wrapped haphazardly in a cotton coat.

“There are snow boats, but no sleds. The snow boats are for taking care of your wife and son. You can use the sleds as you wish, but remember—there’s a 30-pound quota set by the authorities. You don’t necessarily need to bring pots or pans.”

Hearing that his frail son and his wife with leg problems would be taken care of, Frank felt relieved. 30 pounds? What was that even? He had already tried the sleds—it wasn’t hard to pull his wife along. With 30 pounds, he could haul everything from Tulip Town to Souls City in one go!

Similar scenes played out in many parts of the temporary camp at Croop—assigning vehicles and responsibilities. Not only that, but there were also people checking everyone’s attire. Whether due to a lack of clothing, poor self-protection, or other reasons, those under supervision had to follow the rules: cotton coats, hoods, scarves, gloves, and foot coverings. Those who didn’t meet the standards were ordered to fix it. If they faced difficulties, they could report them for coordinated solutions. There was no chance of acting selfishly! Such motherly oversight didn’t draw much resistance; instead, many praised it for its thoroughness. After all, the people could clearly tell what was good and what wasn’t.

With people pushing and animals pulling, those with weaker strength wouldn’t hold back the group. Though the convoy hadn’t set off yet, even ordinary people could sense that the group’s cohesion had greatly improved.

“Damn fool!” It was Zhanza who cursed this time. In the Frey Alliance, where faith in money outweighed faith in gods, he had encountered such a wasteful idiot. Zhanza felt his luck was truly terrible.

Tures was now like a half-ruined house. To restore it to its former glory would require a lot of time, effort, and money. At this moment, Dave chose to spend money instead of saving it—it was like applying wall plaster before a storm, no matter how much you used, it wouldn’t be enough to clean it off! Zhanza couldn’t understand. By the time things recovered after the war, how would the Manmoris family attract settlers, bribe people, purchase supplies, or maintain a decent life?

“To place hope in emotional gains in such a country and situation! Is he crazy or stupid?” Like Dave back then, Zhanza also focused only on the immediate situation, failing to see things from a broader perspective. Moreover, as an Odian, his prejudices and fixed ideas greatly influenced his judgment.

There’s a saying among the people of the Holy Kingdom of Od: Using emotions as bargaining chips in Frey is like falling in love with a nightingale. It might sound harsh and bitter, but it does illustrate the issue to some extent.

The Holy Kingdom of Odh was not a dynasty plagued by corruption and on the decline. Under such circumstances, were those who left Odh for Fray truly, as Fray’s officials claimed, people yearning for freedom? Anyone with some life experience knew this was nonsense. Were there those who went to Fray purely for freedom? Yes, but they were a tiny minority; the majority were gold miners, opportunists, the down-and-out, the bankrupt, and the like.

Certain phenomena within the Fray Alliance further confirmed that this mixed crowd was nothing but a dung heap wrapped in the glossy guise of “freedom.” For example, even if a noble once held immense wealth and made great contributions to the alliance, once they went bankrupt, they would immediately be shunned by most people. A bankrupt noble in Fray was synonymous with incompetence; not only other nobles, but even ordinary freefolk looked down on them, as it symbolized failure. This faction showed little sympathy for failure and plenty of contempt, with no tolerance at all.

In such an environment, almost all Fray people shared one belief: it was better to have it than not! Almost all nobles shared another belief: power might be dispensable, but money was not!

Zhan Ga used this universally accepted standard in Fray to judge Di Fu, which led to such exclamations. Of course, he never imagined that the entire plan actually came from an alien who had studied history extensively and had long since learned to view human society from an observer’s perspective.

While Zhan Ga gritted his teeth in frustration, Di Fu, Ebute,Neo, and Milien gathered together, secretly sighing in relief. They had been busy until now, not even having time to eat, and they didn’t feel hungry either—preoccupied with worries and concerns, they simply had no appetite. All they felt was exhaustion and weariness.

“The plan is going smoothly! Ebute said you performed exceptionally well in handling the bandits this afternoon. Everyone believes that if things continue like this, you’ll soon become a competent ruler.” Di Fu’s performance was outstanding, even earning praise fromNeo, who was usually very strict with him.Neo also believed that encouragement was more important at such times.

“But I really hope Father can wake up and recover. He’s only 37!” Di Fu said in a low voice.

Di Fu’s words darkened Milien’s expression as well. Xavier’s condition hadn’t worsened, but in reality, the lack of improvement over time meant it was only getting worse. Watching their father slowly slide into death while being powerless to do anything was a cruel torment for both Di Fu and Milien.

Neo didn’t say much about this topic.

Thanks to his ability to multitask,Neo managed to handle numerous complex affairs without delaying his work on reverse-engineering the “Life Siphon” project. Although he had made some progress, he felt it wasn’t appropriate to reveal it now. As for Di Fu, it was fine, but as for Milien, he didn’t want to give her hope only to crush it cruelly later. Deep down, his feelings toward Xavier remained complex…

After hastily eating a few bites of lukewarm food, Neo and Ebut went around the camp together. It was already deep at night, and most people had gone to rest. Those who were weak, women, children, and the elderly were placed in the buildings, while the young, especially the men, crowded into tents and makeshift enclosures (simple structures that could only offer some protection from the wind). Although young, Dev, as the temporary leader, insisted on living in a tent like everyone else. By the time Neo and Ebut left, he was already discussing specific matters related to the eastward migration with a group of officials, identifying problems and solving them. Adversity torments people but also tempers them. After wielding a sword in battle, Dev seemed much more mature, as if he had suddenly achieved enlightenment. The knowledge he had acquired in the past began to show in practical situations, earning the people’s heartfelt praise and further solidifying Dev’s authority as temporary leader. The murmurs behind his back saying, “We’re being led by a child,” grew fewer and fewer.

Neo and Ebut didn’t walk fast. As they inspected the camp, they also discussed issues related to the guard force. For the militia members, this was not like ordinary drills where mistakes could be repeated. Now, the safety of all the people depended on these hundred or so individuals, and since members of the guard force had their own families among them, this could indeed motivate them to work harder. But what if something went wrong? Would they run back to take care of their families? That was indeed a problem.

“…Well, we finally have some ideas,” Neo summarized. “On one hand, we should pool our wisdom and continuously adjust and improve the security arrangements for the migration. At the same time, our team needs to be transparent, and we need to do a good job in communication, letting everyone know about the progress of the guard force to boost their confidence. Additionally, we need to find ways to strengthen the discipline of the guard force, one of which is public oversight. Thirdly, training and coordination should go hand in hand during the migration, but it’s important to do it in moderation—we can’t put too much pressure on them at once; too much is just as bad as too little. We can organize small competitions between Team 1 and Team 2, or between the guard force and the Swift Wind Team. We should criticize those who make mistakes and praise or even reward those who perform well.”

Ebut nodded frequently. What Neo had summarized now, though presented as a joint discussion, was actually guided by Neo, with both of them working together to refine it. Ebut, who often stayed by Xavier’s side, had also learned a thing or two. Being observant as he was, he could tell that Neo already had a well-thought-out plan, but he presented it in a more gentle manner to consider others’ feelings and involve them in the process. It was also a subtle way to implement and refine his own ideas.

Ebut realized that as a decision-maker, Neo was gradually developing his own leadership style. Although his methods were still somewhat rough and immature, they couldn’t hide his brilliance and talent. This eastward migration was an opportunity for growth for Dev, and surely for Neo as well. As the true proponent of the plan, Neo would gain even more from it.

Low-key, but ambitious or far-reaching in aspirations, and not unpleasant at all. In Ebute’s previous understanding,Neo was the kind of person with many advantages who was destined to excel, and now, that level of excellence had clearly increased once again…
After checking Cilin’s warning traps, the two came out of the woods.Neo said sincerely, “The responsibility for the Guard’s affairs mainly falls on you. I’m sure Macken and the others will come up with a more detailed and effective plan after discussing it.”
“Neo, you really overestimate me,” Ebute said somewhat awkwardly. Although they were the same age, Ebute always felt somewhat inferior when aroundNeo. He felt there was a huge gap between them—Neo was like Xavier, even giving him the illusion of being a natural leader, able to oversee everything and plan things methodically… Sometimes Ebute wondered if there really were people born with such abilities.
Neo smiled and said honestly, “To be honest, many of my ideas only become clear and refined through discussion. I don’t have much pre-planned stuff. As the merchants of Frey say: Sometimes it’s people who drive things forward, and sometimes it’s the tasks that push people forward. Don’t underestimate yourself, but don’t overestimate either.”
“Hehe!” Ebute, who was blowing on his hands, laughed too. “What a nice saying! And the second part is commonly said among revolutionaries.”
Neo also laughed. “I just blurted it out—who said it doesn’t matter!”
The night wind had picked up, and the temperature dropped significantly.Neo greeted a sentry militia member and continued walking with Ebute.
Ebute said, “To be honest, you’re the wisest and most confident werewolf I’ve ever met—hardworking, strong, calm, disciplined… A bunch of advantages, like a natural strongman!”
Neo waved his hand. “Let’s keep it real. I can tolerate what you said earlier, but being a natural strongman? No, I really don’t think so!” With a nostalgic look,Neo continued, “When Lord bought me from the gladiator merchants, I wasn’t the best, and I messed up during the performance, but Lord still bought me. I asked why later. Lord said, ‘I saw your eyes, and I thought you could do it.’”
After a pause,Neo smiled wistfully before adding, “I can’t see my own eyes. Even when I look in a mirror or a basin, after over a decade, what feeling do I have? So, ‘you can do it!’ When someone else says it, if it’s not flattery, then it’s objective. Even if that objectivity isn’t truly objective, it’s still some kind of encouragement. Besides, even if we fail, how bad could it be? Worse than being trapped in a cellar, fighting for survival? Why not give it a try?”
Ebute nodded. “You’re right. At worst, we just lose our lives. If we lose our lives, all complaints vanish…”
“Lose our lives? Stop thinking that way. Aside from the different tasks we handle, we’re basically militia members of the Guard. We need to do our best, but we don’t have to be perfect. It wouldn’t be fun to be crushed by pressure…”

“Hahaha!” Eburt laughed heartily, but inwardly he swore: This was the time to repay Xavier’s kindness. He must do things right, even at the cost of his life…
After Eburt, Neo went to find the butcher York and the woodsman Light. These two could be considered the most combat-effective non-professionals in the town.
York had once joined an adventuring party in his youth, venturing into the wilderness in search of quick wealth. Like most adventurers who left that world disappointed, years of exploration yielded only a pittance that wasn’t even enough for a pension, along with various hidden injuries. York’s main injury was in his legs, which caused problems when he had to walk long distances. Yet he still had the qualifications of a level 3 warrior. More importantly, he was a veteran—someone who had killed and seen blood. In the jargon of the Dark Clan, it meant he was “bold enough to strike first.” In most low-level fights, such initiative often determined the outcome.
Light’s father was a lumberjack, and he had worked alongside him since childhood. Unlike his father, Light was also an excellent hunter. His skills with bows and arrows were good enough to make him Neo’s mentor, even if it was on a rough level.
Neo met with these two mainly to ask them to ensure the safety of Dave and Milien. Light had a good relationship with Neo, and Neo trusted him. York had a militaristic streak, but he had one virtue: he kept his word and was a real man. He had long coveted Neo’s blacksmithing skills, and when Neo fulfilled his wish by crafting the “butcher’s knife” York used now, York owed Neo a favor. Now was the time to repay it.
After settling this matter, Neo went to see Dave to discuss some things privately. The most important one was the resettlement of the people.
“Even from the perspective of rewarding hard work, it’s necessary to prioritize the relatives of the militia members so they can feel secure and give their full support. And of course, those who are staunch supporters deserve extra care…”
“Aren’t you creating discrimination?” Dave interrupted Neo. “A true noble must be fair and just…”
“You’re right, but discrimination is actually fairness. Is it fair to treat those who fully support you and uphold your authority the same as those who constantly find faults and refuse to cooperate? Then why should they support you wholeheartedly? Just because these people have more conscience and are kinder?”
“But…” Dave still felt uneasy. Neo’s approach was nothing short of creating hierarchies. As a slave, hadn’t he suffered enough in terms of inequality?

Nio guessed what Dave was thinking and explained, “I’m not advocating for a hierarchy of status, but rather a distinction between closeness and distance. Do you trust me or Root? If something goes wrong to us both and we’re in danger, will you save me first or Root? What if it’s me and your sister instead? Isn’t there a level of closeness? Why? Who is more reliable? Who is more trustworthy? Who truly cares about you? These are all reasons. A difference must exist. There are enemies, and those in the guard must fight to the death. Just because they’re militia does that mean they’re inherently inferior to those who aren’t? Is it wrong to be in good health and young? Besides, we’re not treating these people differently. Woodworkers, stonecutters, blacksmiths—those who perform well deserve rewards from the lord, and as their temporary lord, you can give them certain rewards first, such as honor, money, or even land.”

“Land?”

“Yes. Tures still belongs to the Manmoris family, so it can certainly be granted. Even if that person sells it later, it’s completely legal. They can also plant crops if they wish. Why not?”

“While differences may cause some resentment, they also motivate people and help them see the direction. After all, the Manmoris family is Tures’ master, and Tures is a great platform that allows everyone to perform better and live better lives. That’s your advantage—surely you should make use of it.”

“It seems you’ve convinced me again!” Dave sighed.

“What, discouraged? Actually, I was also convinced by someone else.”

“Who?”

“The first Duke of Ensbass, Lionel. My ideas come from biographies of this great man, not from my own inventions.”

Dave relaxed and joked, “Are you saying you just read a few more books than me?”

Nio nodded seriously. “I read them so thoroughly that when I encounter similar situations, I suddenly remember passages from the books.”

“I saw you rush all the books from the house over here.”

“Well, they’re the most precious possessions to me. I figured the barbarian tribes would prefer to use them for firewood, so I gave up the idea of spreading culture among them. Since the caves haven’t been sealed yet, you can pick one or two books to read on the road. You have much better conditions than I did; I had to rely on your sister to sneak them for me.”

“Ha! Once we finish this mission, I’ll give you all those books—feel free to read them however you want.”

“See? There’s already differential treatment. The lord’s collection contains several books of great value, including rare editions. Giving all these books to me is a huge honor. You’ve drawn up a good plan—use similar tactics to win the townspeople’s hearts, keeping them tied to Tures and their valuable properties. This way, at least without external pressure, a stable and united situation can be maintained. At the very least, it’s a good start.”

It indeed was a good start. The first night for the people moving east was a success, and everyone accepted Dave’s authority as their temporary lord. A series of measures were being implemented systematically, and it was believed that this authority would grow stronger as they moved eastward.

On the other hand, Zhanza was desperately trying to come up with a plan. He hadn’t intended to contact those dark cultists lurking among the people, but now it seemed inevitable to rely on them if he wanted to expand his “business” quickly.
“The most annoying one is that damned Nio!” Zhanza cursed for the third time. “Works harder than an ox, eats less than a chicken. Spends half the day working, yet ends up not getting the position of guard captain nor much money in return. After a day of exhausting labor, while everyone else is resting, he still has to rush off to join the Swift Wind Team to get the latest intelligence. What’s the point? It’s completely insane. There are so many weirdos in Tures from top to bottom! Otherwise, a night attack today might have settled things—damn it!”
Seizing an opportunity, Zhanza had already placed the intelligence barrel in place. This small barrel was coated with special magical oil, allowing Eirith’s immortal owls to find it easily. Zhanza was confident but not arrogant; by reporting more, Fad could make timely arrangements. The people of Tures would speed things up on their own, and the dark forces could easily play some tricks to slow them down.
Zhanza’s ideas aligned well with Fad’s. Fad, Eirith, and Imoton reviewed the intelligence. Though they couldn’t figure out how such a selfless and extraordinary lord could have emerged in the realm of Erdrit, they at least recognized that their plan was indeed good. If not obstructed, they might actually succeed in crossing the southern plains and entering the realm of Hilsfanis safely.
“My lord, I am willing to lead men to ambush them,” Imoton stepped forward, volunteering.
“Hm!” Fad, who was wiping his beloved sword, Blood Fang, grunted indifferently. After a while, he said, “Since it’s familiar faces, there’s no need for us to show up. Go to Eternal Night Warrior Gorton and have him send people to do this—do it well.”
“Yes, my lord!” Imoton took orders and left first.
“Let’s set off too. Head east and wait for them along the way!” Fad said, taking a deep breath before twisting the neck of the human woman who was serving him with her mouth. It was Fad’s habit: though he liked to play, he never took any burdens with him on the road.