Chapter 146: Robbers’ Night Attack

After a hearty dinner, the elf children who had been tired from running went to sleep. The adult elves gathered in small groups, discussing matters in Old Elvish that Donald couldn’t understand.

As for Donald, he was with his teacher, identifying the types of materials separated from the old equipment in the ruins to make the Book of Truth. With Master Alchemist Messel around, it was like having a living encyclopedia—there was hardly any material he couldn’t recognize.

Their lineage was more complete than that of most mages, especially since the ancient archmages of the Transformation School excelled in alchemy. Unlike modern alchemy, which focused on creating magical items or potions, ancient alchemists explored vast fields such as mechanical civilization and the origins of species. It was said that half of the success in building the Sky City owed to the magic schools related to alchemy—Transformation and Enchantment.

It took an hour to analyze over a dozen materials, and Donald recorded their properties and uses in his notes one by one.

Keeping notes had been a habit Donald maintained from high school to university in his past life, and he naturally continued it in this world as well. If all the notes Donald had taken since learning magic were compiled into a book, it would be enough to help a mage apprentice progress from the Black Iron rank to the upper levels of Bronze rank, and likely even assist some Silver-level mages.

After all, the knowledge Donald had acquired from his learned teacher already far exceeded what most mages could master. The complete lineage of an ancient magic school was incomparable to the fragmented lineages of modern mage schools.

In addition to what he learned from Messel, Donald also drew much knowledge from the books copied in the Mage Guild and the towers of the Kingdom Mage Association. He also exchanged ideas with experienced mages like Edwina and Chris.

It could be said that aside from the fact that he had risen too quickly and his foundation wasn’t yet solid, Donald possessed enough conditions and knowledge to make ordinary Silver mages feel inferior.

The moon was already high above the trees—probably past 10 p.m., nearing midnight.

Most people in Donald’s camp were fast asleep, with only a few summoned creatures remaining outside, faithfully guarding their master’s safety.

In this utterly silent and peaceful moment, sudden cries of terror and fighting erupted from the southern direction. The noisy sounds immediately awakened many elves with keen senses, and Donald, who was in a light state of meditation, also stopped his practice and stepped out of his tent. Upon emerging, he found his teacher Maelthor and Kelthas already standing at the front of the camp, gazing southward. Donald joined them and looked in the direction of the incident. About two or three miles away, the camp was in chaos; figures could be seen moving among the flames as they attacked the camp. “Have they been attacked by bandits?” “That’s likely!” Maelthor replied, “When I passed by their camp earlier, I saw that the caravan carried valuable goods, and there were also a few small nobles among them—people with considerable wealth, perfect targets for bandits!” Through his understanding gained over the past year since his rebirth, Donald knew that bandits and robber gangs in this world were different from the thief class among professionals. Thieves were generally agile and, like assassins, mostly worked for armies, mercenary groups, or nobles, serving as scouts. Their profession was more akin to that of scouts rather than literal thieves. Yet, despite such skills, most thieves couldn’t resist engaging in petty theft, so people often considered thieves and bandits the same. Indeed, many thieves joined gangs dedicated to plundering and destruction. Just as assassins aren’t the same as killers, yet many still join assassination organizations. Seeing Donald’s interest, Maelthor asked, “What, do you want to go help?” “Yes! It seems that caravan intends to travel long distances; they might even reach Theramore. If caravans heading to the Northlands are constantly attacked, it will affect the economy of my territory. Even without that reason, since I’ve encountered this, I feel I should intervene—after all, there are many innocent civilians, women, and children in that camp!”

Messel nodded and said, “Go! Only by acting according to your true heart can you go further on the path of a mage. I believe you’ve already understood this!” “Thank you, teacher!” Donald bowed to the old mage before flying away from the camp with Kelthas. As for the camp, with his teacher there and Elder Illia, who had recovered from his injuries and was also a nature druid with silver-tier strength, any reckless bandits who dared attack would be seeking their own doom!

Before reaching the camp, neither of them used any powerful spells; instead, they simply unleashed spell-like abilities such as magical flames. The origins of these flames were different—Kelthas’s came from the destructive power of demons, unique to the blood elves, though it had been altered by the Book of Truth into a sorcerer’s innate talent similar to that of fire elementals. Donald’s flames, on the other hand, originated from the power of the Fire Fiend, absorbed and transformed through the powerful innate abilities of a demon hunter. Neither required any incantations or gestures; with a thought and sufficient magic, they could unleash flame attacks equivalent to those of a second-tier single-target spell.

Yet it was precisely these flames, which mages considered merely convenient rather than particularly powerful, that filled everyone present with fear and awe. Whether bandits or the victims in the camp, they were all ordinary people. Kelthas’s flames were crimson, burning with pure fire elements and magic, while Donald’s were dark red, filled with a destructive aura, as if stolen from the abyss.

Surrounded by flames, the two descended from the sky like demons, waving their hands to release countless flames that slaughtered the bandits attacking in the dead of night, forcing them to scatter in panic. Only a few bandits, burned by the flames, lay on the ground, writhing in pain. Seeing these saviors descend from the sky to save them, the people in the camp were too afraid to approach. Eventually, the caravan leader stepped forward to thank the two for their help on behalf of everyone.

Donald and Kelthas extinguished their flames, refused their money, and left without saying much, flying back to the camp. The survivors stared in awe as the two figures flew away. After the battle, the remaining bandits, witnessing the fate of their peers, were terrified and dared not make any further moves. In the end, the camp had a peaceful night. After the events of the previous night, they rested briefly, had a quick breakfast early in the morning, and set off again.

When Donald got up, he happened to see the caravan passing not far from their camp, which made him shake his head in amusement. These people were terrified by the bandits and wanted to reach the town as soon as possible, not realizing that after yesterday’s attack, the chances of encountering more bandits were extremely low. Even among bandit groups, there must be communication among them, as well as their own ways of gathering information. Knowing that there were two powerful mages in the Wildhorse Plains, it was likely that no one would dare to commit crimes in these areas for a few days! After a quick wash and a hearty breakfast, Donald ordered the caravan to set off again. Shining Gold Town was almost within reach, meaning it was only a few days away before they could return to Dalaran. In as fast as three days or as slow as five, at the caravan’s pace, they could return to their territory, where Donald could use the treasures from this trip to the Arcane Ruins to make his domain even stronger. In high spirits, Donald led the caravan on the road, but not long after, they encountered trouble ahead. Having left the Wildhorse Plains and being only half an hour away from Shining Gold Town, they found a crowd gathered on the road, causing a traffic jam between the people and the carriages. Although there were several side paths leading to Shining Gold Town aside from this main road, which posed no problem for other travelers, for a caravan like Donald’s, filled with carriages and goods, they had no choice but to use this main road. So Donald ordered Kelsas to go ahead and see what was going on. Soon, Kelsas returned and reported to his master. It turned out that a checkpoint had been set up on the road by a nearby noble lord, who was collecting tolls from passersby. Donald found this somewhat strange. Usually, in Theloria, few local lords would impose tolls; only a few unimportant small cities in the kingdom would charge entry fees at their gates to earn a little money, and even then, it was only a few copper coins. After all, this world didn’t have highways, national roads, or provincial roads like in his previous life, where toll booths could be established. Unless it was necessary, or if there was only one road surrounded by forests and wilderness, people could always choose to take another route.

So setting up such toll barriers is purely to drive outsiders away from their territory. Once cut off from the outside world, how can the territory develop? Maintaining normal life would likely be extremely difficult. Eventually, the people would starve or flee, and since they couldn’t pay the kingdom’s taxes, the lord’s rule would come to an end.
Donald found it hard to understand why the noble lord of the previous territory had such a foolish idea. However, he knew little about that territory. During his previous two trips to Flashgold Town, he had simply passed through here without stopping, only knowing that it was a knightly domain that was said to be quite wealthy.
So he and Kelthas stepped forward, intending to ask those who knew the area better for information.
When they reached the checkpoint, they saw a wooden fence set up as a barrier on the road. A few arrogantly dressed men who seemed to be noble servants were standing there arguing with several others.
Two of them looked like caravan leaders, and two more seemed to be their guards. But it was the other two who caught Donald’s attention.
One of them, a young man dressed as a swordsman with a long sword at his waist, said angrily, “It’s outrageous! They want three silver moons just to let us pass. We’re just ordinary travelers, not caravans or nobles—where do we get that much money?”
As he spoke, the young swordsman stepped forward, ready to “discuss” things with those noble servants. Another young man, who looked like a scholar, quickly pulled his companion back and tried to calm him down.
The young swordsman shouted, “Augusta, don’t stop me! I must teach them a lesson. These local nobles are infuriating! They don’t act like nobles at all—more like those bandits in the Wild Horse Plains, greedy and ruthless!”
Augusta? Wasn’t that the cousin of Catherine mentioned by the queen?
Hearing this name, Donald turned his gaze and began to observe the young man carefully.