Book 1 Chapter 30 Silent Night
…
The transition from the lush, damp riverbed to the jagged foothills of the Iron-Peak Ridge was a grueling ascent that tested every ounce of the trio's remaining stamina. The air grew thinner, and the dense canopy of the forest gave way to gnarled, wind-swept pines and massive limestone outcroppings.
"Stay low," Hana whispered, her eyes fixed on the sky. Above them, the clouds weren't just moving with the wind; dark, sharp-winged silhouettes circled with a predatory grace that made Rowan's neck hair stand on end. "The Iron-Beak Hawks have vision like a master archer. If they see a flash of bright color or a sudden movement, they'll drop on us like a falling hammer."
Rowan adjusted his travel bag, feeling the weight of the items within. He was looking at the "System grid" hovering in front of him; he had to be extremely careful not to hit anything as it covered a portion of his vision.
As they ducked behind a massive boulder to catch their breath, Hajin grunted, clutching his side. "I hate birds. Why did it have to be birds? Can't we just fight more bandits? Bandits stay on the ground. Bandits don't have talons that can pierce plate armor."
"Bandits also don't have the digestive issues of the Stonefang Stronghold right now," Rowan reminded him. "Keep your voice down, Hajin. We're in their nesting grounds."
Hana looked at their meager equipment. She and Hajin had managed to snatch two standard-issue iron longswords from a rack near the stronghold gates during their frantic exit, but they were notched and dull. Rowan, meanwhile, looked practically unarmed.
"Rowan," Hana said, her voice laced with concern. "You can't defend yourself with a dull blade and a weak shield. If a hawk dives, you'll need real steel."
Rowan nodded, his mind racing. He needed to provide a plausible explanation for having better gear. "Actually," he lied, leaning back into the shadows of the rock so they couldn't see exactly where he was reaching, "I... I managed to salvage a few things from those ambushers."
He accessed his inventory mentally. He managed to pick up a lot of regular, non-system, Iron Sword and a sturdy, mundane Wooden Shield during the loot in that cave. Those were something that the giant snake was keeping. So it is time for him to take a few out.
With a bit of theatrical grunting and fumbling, Rowan "pulled" a proper iron sword and the shield from the depths of his bag. To Hana and Hajin, it looked like he was just a very disorganized man digging through a very deep sack.
"There," Rowan panted, holding up the iron sword. It was a bit rusted near the hilt, but the edge was serviceable. The shield was a simple, round heater-style, reinforced with bands of iron.
Hajin whistled softly. "That bag of yours is like a bottomless pit. I saw you pull out some rations earlier, and now a shield?"
"I'm an herbalist," Rowan said with a straight face. "We are trained in the art of... efficient packing. It's a very competitive field."
Hana rolled her eyes but looked relieved. "Good. You'll need it. Look up."
A shadow passed over them, momentarily blotting out the sun. A screech, metallic and shrill, echoed through the canyons. It sounded like a giant whetstone being scraped against a blade.
"Move! Now!" Hana commanded.
They darted from the cover of the boulder toward a narrow crevice in the cliff face. They were halfway across a patch of open scree when the first hawk struck.
It didn't just fly; it plummeted. The Iron-Beak Hawk was a nightmare of evolution—its beak was a hooked shard of dark, natural metal, and its talons were thick as human fingers, tipped with obsidian-sharp points.
"Shields up!" Rowan yelled.
He threw himself forward, raising his wooden shield just as the hawk collided with him. The impact felt like being hit by a galloping pony. The shield groaned, the wood splintering slightly, but the iron bands held. The hawk's beak slammed into the center of the shield, leaving a deep, jagged gouge.
Rowan stumbled back, his arm numbing from the force. The hawk, frustrated by the lack of soft flesh, flapped its massive wings—easily a ten-foot span—and tried to push off to gain altitude for another dive.
"If only I could use my system weapon, this battle would be a breeze…" Rowan thought with a slight frown at the dull ache he felt.
"Not today, you overgrown pigeon!" Hajin roared, swinging his stolen sword in a wide, clumsy arc. The blade clattered against the hawk's iron-like wing feathers, drawing a spray of sparks but no blood.
Hana was more precise. She lunged, her blade finding the softer joint where the wing met the body. The hawk shrieked, a sound that threatened to burst their eardrums, and hopped back, its yellow eyes burning with predatory rage.
"Don't kill it if you don't have to!" Rowan warned, his herbalist instincts kicking in. "If it bleeds too much, the scent will bring the rest of the flock!"
"A bit late for that advice!" Hana shouted as two more silhouettes detached themselves from the high peaks above.
The trio scrambled toward the crevice, but the terrain was against them. The loose rocks shifted under their feet. Rowan tripped—genuinely this time—and fell onto his side. The second hawk saw the opening. It tucked its wings and became a living spear, aimed directly at Rowan's exposed back.
Rowan didn't have time to turn his shield. He felt a surge of cold panic. Is this it? Killed by a bird after surviving assassins and a sect expulsion?
Suddenly, his mysterious vest armor—the one he'd taken from Ro Fung—glowed with a faint, invisible warmth beneath his robes. The hawk's beak struck his back with a force that should have skitted through his ribs. Instead, there was a dull thud. The +2 defense of the vest absorbed the killing blow, turning a lethal puncture into a painful bruise.
Rowan rolled with the impact, gasping for air. To Hana and Hajin, it looked like the bird had simply missed its mark or hit a particularly bony part of its shoulder.
"Rowan! Get up!" Hajin grabbed his collar and hauled him toward the crevice.
Hana stood at the entrance, her sword weaving a defensive pattern that kept the third hawk at bay. The birds were cautious now, sensing that these three 'mortals' were more troublesome than the usual mountain goats.
They squeezed into the narrow fissure. The hawks landed outside, their heavy talons clicking on the stone like hammers. They peered into the darkness, their heads tilting in that eerie, bird-like way, but they were too large to follow.
"They'll wait for us to come out," Hajin panted, sliding down the damp wall of the cave. "They're patient. I've heard of hunters being trapped in caves for days until they starved, just because a hawk decided they looked tasty."
"We're not staying," Hana said, wiping a smudge of blood from her cheek. "This crevice is part of the 'Vein of the Mother.' My father told me about it. It's a natural tunnel system that runs deep under the ridge. It should lead us right to the outskirts of the town's secret emergency exit."
Rowan leaned against the cave wall, his heart finally slowing down. He looked at his iron shield. It was ruined—three deep gashes ran through the wood. He quietly slid it back into his bag, hoping the siblings wouldn't notice he was "disposing" of it.
"That was... intense," Rowan said, his voice trembling slightly. He wasn't acting this time. Even with the system, the raw power of the fierce beasts was terrifying. "Miss Kang, how much further?"
"Two miles through the dark," she replied, her eyes narrowing as she looked into the black maw of the tunnel. "But we have no torches."
Rowan reached into his Travel bag again. "Actually... I might have a few tallow candles and a flint set. Professional hazard. Never know when you'll need to find mushrooms in the dark."
As he fumbled for the candles, Rowan felt a strange sense of camaraderie. He was used to being the 'loser' while in high school, the guy who was full of pride and poverty, the guy everyone looked down on but also admired. But here, with the Mayor's children, he was... useful. He wasn't just a level 2 mortal; he was their lifeline.
The trek through the Vein of the Mother was a journey of echoes and dripping water. Hajin kept jumping at every sound, convinced that the 'plague' from the stronghold had somehow followed them into the dark, or that a subterranean beast was about to swallow them whole.
"Will you relax?" Hana hissed. "You're a swordsman, Hajin. Act like one."
"I am acting like one! A sensible swordsman who knows that darkness is where things with too many legs live!"
Rowan walked in the middle, holding a flickering candle. The light cast long, dancing shadows against the limestone walls. He found himself checking his inventory and the things in the system grid. Then he recalled the current training he had been doing. He could only use the mortal techniques, but after the fight with the hawk, he realized he needed to practice more. The world outside the town wasn't just about merchants and bandits; there were things out there that didn't care about gold or politics.
Going to the town as a bit of a breeze with the system and its weapons. But if he needs to hide them, he needs to be prepared using his actual strength.
"Rowan," Hajin whispered, breaking the silence. "That move you did back at the river... with the sword. Where did you learn that? You hit that guy's wrist like you were hitting a nail."
"It was just luck. I was always a... very strict teacher to myself," Rowan lied smoothly. "I always said to myself that if you don't have strength, you have to have a very good memory for where it hurts most."
"I like you," Hajin grinned. "When we get back, you have to show me that move. I think I could use it to disarm a few brats if they ever tried to pull a blade on me."
"Hajin," Hana warned. "We don't know the situation in town. If what I'm guessing is right, then father's premonition is right, and Hong Tong has already activated his mercenaries. He might already be in control. We need to be ghosts."
After what felt like hours, the air changed. The heavy, damp scent of the cave was replaced by the smell of pine needles and woodsmoke. A faint glimmer of moonlight appeared ahead.
"The exit," Hana whispered, her pace quickening.
They emerged from a hidden opening behind a waterfall of ivy on the eastern slope of the town's valley. Below them, the lights of Slow Turtle Town twinkled like grounded stars. It looked peaceful, but the tension in the air was palpable even from a distance.
"We're behind the orchards," Hana said, pointing to a dark patch of trees near the base of the hill. "From there, it's a straight shot to the secret tunnel that enters the Mayor's cellar. If we're lucky, we can get inside before the moon sets."
They began their descent, moving with the practiced silence of people who had spent the last few hours dodging death. Rowan kept his iron sword drawn, though his arm was still sore. He felt a strange vibration in the air—not Qi, he couldn't sense that yet, but a feeling of unease.
They reached the edge of the orchards, the rows of peach and plum trees providing excellent cover. The town wall was only a few hundred yards away.
"There's the gatehouse," Hajin whispered, pointing to a small stone structure half-hidden by vines. "The tunnel entrance is right beneath it."
Suddenly, the sound of rhythmic crunching on gravel reached their ears.
"Get down!" Hana pulled them both into the tall grass.
A group of five men emerged from the shadows of the gatehouse. They weren't wearing the town guard's blue tabards. Instead, they wore mismatched leather and iron, with red armbands tied around their biceps. They carried heavy crossbows and wicked-looking polearms.
Hajin's eyes lit up with relief. "Look! It's the patrol! They must have set up a perimeter to protect the town from the bandits."
"Hajin, wait—" Hana tried to grab his sleeve, but her brother was already standing up.
"Hey! Over here!" Hajin called out, waving his arms. "It's me, Kang Hajin! We've escaped the stronghold! We have information for my father!"
The patrol stopped dead in their tracks. The leader, a man with a jagged scar across his nose and a cruel sneer, slowly raised his hand. The four men behind him leveled their crossbows.
"Kang Hajin?" the leader said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. "Well, well. Master Hong said you might try to crawl back into your hole."
Hajin froze, his hand dropping to his side. "Master... Hong? What are you talking about? Where is the Town Guard? Where is Captain Mao?"
The leader laughed, a cold, dry sound. "Captain Mao is currently 'meditating' in a very small, very damp cell. And the Town Guard? Most of them realized that Hong Tong pays significantly better than your father ever did."
Hana stood up beside her brother, her sword out in a flash. Her face was a mask of cold fury. "You're mercenaries. You're the ones who have been terrorizing the outskirts."
"We prefer the term 'security consultants,'" the leader said, stepping forward. He looked at Rowan, who was still crouching in the grass, his iron sword held awkwardly. "And who's this? Another stray? Master Hong said to bring the siblings back alive if possible, but he didn't say anything about the extra baggage."
The four mercenaries shifted, fanning out to flank the trio. They were professionals—mortal, yes, but seasoned in the kind of dirty street fighting that made them dangerous.
Rowan felt his heart hammer. This wasn't like the bandits at the stronghold; these men were healthy, well-armed, and currently looking at him like he was a bug to be squashed.
Hostile Entities Detected. Engaging Automatic Battle System.
[Han Rowan (Level 2). HP: 3/3/3/3/3/3. Qi: 5: Status: Normal.]
[Opponent: Mercenary Leader (Mortal): HP 2/2/2/2/2/2. Status: Normal.]
[Opponent: Mercenary 1 (Mortal): HP 2/2/2/2/2/2. Status: Normal.]
[Opponent: Mercenary 2 (Mortal): HP 2/2/2/2/2/2. Status: Normal.]
[Opponent: Mercenary 3 (Mortal): HP 2/2/2/2/2/2. Status: Normal.]
[Opponent: Mercenary 4 (Mortal): HP 2/2/2/2/2/2. Status: Normal.]
Rowan looked at the stats. They were all stronger than the average civilian, but none of them were cultivators. Still, five-on-three were bad odds, especially when two of the 'three' were exhausted and one was a 'mortal herbalist' who was trying very hard not to show his level.
"Sir Kang," Rowan whispered, his voice steady despite the adrenaline. "Get behind Miss Kang. Use your sword for defense only. Miss Kang, take the two on the left. I'll... I'll try to distract the others."
"Distract them?" Hajin hissed, his bravado finally replaced by genuine fear. "Rowan, they have crossbows!"
"Just trust me," Rowan said. He reached into his Pouch, his fingers brushing the sharp points of his remaining Thorns. He might have taken them off before, but now he needs to put them back in the grid.
It's time to be a porcupine.
…
The leader of the mercenaries raised his mace. "Kill the tag-along. Secure the young miss and her bratty brother. Move!"
Hearing those words, Kang Hajin's face turned a bit dark. How dare those mongrels call him bratty?
The two mercenaries with crossbows stepped back to aim, while the other three, including the leader, charged forward across the moonlit grass.
Rowan stood up, his iron sword glinting in the dark. He didn't look like a hero. He looked like a man who was very tired of being chased.
"I really," Rowan muttered to himself, "just wanted to live a quiet life."
As the mercenaries closed the gap, Rowan didn't move toward them. He moved around them, his steps light and strangely rhythmic, his Level 2 Agility finally coming into play. Although he is not a cultivator, he is more than just a mere mortal.
"Get him!" the leader roared.
The battle for Slow Turtle Town had moved from the mountains to the front door, and as the first crossbow bolt whistled through the air, Rowan realized that 'Automatic Battle System' or not, this was going to be a very long night.