The deaths of these people hadn’t been long, but the degree of corpse decay was high, seemingly accelerated by something.
"Something’s not right!"
The caravan found a way to move the tree, resuming travel after a half-hour delay.
It wasn’t until they traveled over ten miles that Duncan slightly relaxed.
After crossing a mountain, the guard leader ordered a slight rest, while he himself led two riders to scout the surroundings. The entire caravan largely consisted of mules and horses; only a few elite guards rode travel horses, considered a slightly higher grade of mounts.
The Empire lacked horses, true warhorses were unattainable for ordinary people.
"What are you doing?" a gentle female voice rang out.
Duncan looked up, seeing a pair of blue eyes, a proud figure that couldn’t be concealed by a grayish robe, clearly possessing such exquisite curves, yet the other men nearby did not notice, which didn’t align with a man’s nature.
It was that witch!
Duncan hadn’t found a chance to strike up a conversation with her, yet she brought a clay pot of clear water to him instead.
"Thank you," Duncan naturally reached out to take it.
He faced her curious eyes, put down a small piece of parchment, and said calmly: "Counting heads."
Killed three in the village.
Killed five upon meeting the caravan.
Last night’s night raid by Barbarian rout soldiers, he killed roughly seven.
Total of fifteen heads.
He didn’t know how many he needed to kill to truly adapt to this world.
But he definitely wouldn’t hesitate to kill now.
The witch was wordless for a moment, only giving him a deep look.
"Are you from Bulan Village?" the witch probed.
At this, Duncan’s eyes narrowed slightly, the village of the original owner was very small, with only a few dozen people, yet she knew.
He nodded with an expressionless face and said: "Hmm."
The witch hesitated slightly and asked: "What about the others in the village?"
Duncan’s voice was hoarse: "All dead."
"Rout soldiers massacred the village."
"I’m the only one alive."
The witch’s eyes carried a hint of apology; she softly apologized and then turned away.
Duncan watched her leave, then began scouring the original owner’s memories. In a fragment of not-very-deep memory, he found a clue.
In childhood, an old hunter from the village mentioned once that on the other side of the mountains, deep in the dense forest, there was a rumored treehouse inhabited by a Forest Fairy, who once rescued an injured and lost hunter, and guided him out of that primeval forest.
If the legendary Forest Fairy were the witch before him, she must have lived for over a hundred years.
The original owner never believed these tales, dismissing them as stories concocted by village elders to amuse children.
"If she’s truly the legendary forest witch?"
"Then why did she leave?"
"Couldn’t be avoiding war, right?"
Duncan didn’t know how strong the witch was, but in imperial rumors, some young pretty girls were burnt as witches.
Witch Hunting Movement.
That had a history of almost several decades within the Empire.
Even historically, one of the Empire’s emperors was rumored to have been poisoned by a witch.
"Witch."
"A powerful individual with supernatural power."
"But can also be killed."
According to Duncan’s guess, although witches possessed some strange supernatural powers, they probably weren’t overwhelmingly powerful; otherwise, witches wouldn’t be hunted by the church.
"Enter combat mode!"
Suddenly, Duncan’s consciousness entered the void, and the next second he saw two blue marks appear at the edge of god view.
Followed by several scattered red marks.
He finally saw the Empire’s enemies at last, judging by their attire, they seemed a bit like semi-nomadic warriors.
It was the Ranger from the Pamitia!
.........