Chapter One: Calamity

Licensing Number: Xiang B2-20100081-3. Internet Publishing Certificate: New Web Certificate (Xiang) No. 11. Online Cultural Operation Permit: Wenwangwen [2010]128.

The Law and Political Bureau of Fragrant Leaf City.

Chaklay hurried into Rashel’s office. “I’ve found several important pieces of information.”

“Speak.”

“First, before Lord Aburite’s death, there was a black-haired youth who drank every day at the tavern in front of his manor. That tavern is where the manor guards drink, and when they get drunk, they often unwittingly reveal something about the happenings inside. After Lord Aburite’s treasure room was robbed, that youth never returned.”

“Excellent—a simple and efficient channel for gathering intelligence. That youth’s cleverness surprises me. What else?”

“We received word from Clarice that the youth sold three bottles of potion to a shop nearby. We’ve located the shop and confirmed the story. He fooled everyone with an almost flawless lie, and acquired the funds he needed.”

“Remarkable.”

“Additionally, someone from the Kamel family came forward to report that a young man suspected of being Shuyegrair visited their family recently and apparently struck a substantial deal with them.”

Rashel was startled. “Why would someone from the Kamel family betray their own?”

“I don’t know—perhaps they have their own reasons. There’s never a shortage of people with a screw loose in their heads, tearing down their own kind. Has history ever lacked such events or such people? Open threats from the enemy are easy to dodge, but the secret arrows from behind are impossible to foresee.”

“Indeed.” Rashel agreed. “Four hundred years ago, the bard Adam Bardel cried out against slavery in his poetry, but the one who betrayed him was a slave. Three hundred years ago, a beast-warrior stood up to defend the honor of his race against humans, but his brother was bought off for fifty gold vits. A thousand years ago, the leader of the Holy Spirit religion was nailed to the cross, betrayed by his pupil for the price of two barrels of barley ale. Some have been betrayed by their allies for no price at all. No matter how they championed the weak, it was always the weak from behind who stabbed them. The world never lacks for the despicable and shameless.”

“If such scum were beside me, I’d be the first to kill him.” Chaklay said pointedly.

Rashel didn’t quite grasp his meaning, laughed to himself and said, “You can never rid the world of the petty, right? Enough about them—tell me about the Kamel family’s deal with Shuyegrair.”

“I’ve looked into the Kamel family’s records. They are a commercial clan specializing in potion manufacture and trade—no illustrious background. But lately, their potion quality has suddenly improved, and they’ve released some new types. I compared their new potions to those produced on Purgatory Island, and found that one of them is almost identical in effect to one from the island.”

Rashel let out a sinister chuckle. “I bet you’ve already visited the family.”

“The patriarch was stubborn, but after I cut off one of his hands, he finally gave in.” Chaklay said casually.

“So what did the Kamel family give that youth in return?”

Chaklay placed a sheet of paper and an oath contract before Rashel. “Here’s the list of goods Shuyegrair supplied, and the agreement they signed. The Kamel family traded ingredients for three improved potion recipes and one new recipe. It’s astonishing—he didn’t get the materials by selling potions in bulk, but by selling formulas. The Kamel family was thoroughly duped. Shuyegrair exploited the leakable nature of the formula to trick them into signing an oath, and because of that oath, the family willingly kept the transaction secret. He utterly used them. The boy’s grasp of human nature is terrifying.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Behind every seemingly advantageous deal lurks immense risk and cunning... Isn’t that his specialty?”

Chaklay’s face flushed crimson. He glared fiercely at the old hound.

Rashel picked up the list and asked offhandedly, “Did you have them hand over the formulas?”

Chaklay replied coldly, “The patriarch was reluctant, so I gouged out one of his eyes.”

Rashel was unconcerned by Chaklay’s methods. For them, such forced interrogations were routine. He quickly focused on the list Shuyegrair had given to the Kamel family.

“Have you noticed anything?” Chaklay asked.

Rashel nodded. “Yes. This list and contract show that the deal with the Kamel family enabled Shuyegrair to acquire large quantities of materials in the safest way, allowing him to construct those deadly arrays at the Lanya Grand Theatre. But that’s not the key point. What matters is, relying solely on his own stock, Shuyegrair cannot fully unleash the power of alchemy—he still needs external supplies. Much like Purgatory Island needs shipments from the Liberty, Shuyegrair can't achieve complete self-sufficiency.”

Rashel’s eyes glimmered with hope. “Chaklay, do you realize what this means?”

Chaklay thought for a moment and exclaimed, “Oh, yes, I understand. Shuyegrair’s true strength lies not in his magic or martial skills, but in his alchemy. Yet alchemy cannot escape the need for ingredients. His storage chest might hold the world’s rarest materials, but that doesn’t mean he can create anything he wants. It’s like having the key ingredients for a gourmet meal but lacking the necessary spices—many materials may be trivial yet indispensable, and he still must buy them at the market. And with Shuyegrair’s consumption, the quantity is extraordinary.”

“Precisely.” Rashel smiled with satisfaction. “See, as I said, as long as our target is active, he’ll always slip up. There’s no such thing as a flawless crime—only whether you can spot the clues.”

“So what should we do now?”

“We can’t investigate every market nationwide, but monitoring a few regions should be feasible. Wenlington has already sent the map data related to Aburite’s theft. I’ve checked. There are three possible locations for Electra’s laboratory in the Vanersa region: the Bilias Mountains, the Linglan Highlands, and the Horsewater River on the other side. We only need to watch the markets for alchemical materials in Bilias and Linglan, and track any large-scale purchases recently, then we’ll know where Shuyegrair is.”

“Why not Horsewater River?”

“Because Bilias and Linglan are in the same direction. If I were Shuyegrair, I’d strive to cover the most ground in the shortest time, increasing the odds of finding Electra’s lab. And, heading straight ahead, you reach the Franque Empire. It’s not like when he first escaped—back then, he had the advantage of time, so he could hide, scout, and prepare. Now, we’re getting closer and closer. Shuyegrair must plan an escape route.”

“Understood. I’ll have our men monitor those markets closely.” Chaklay said.

Just before leaving Rashel’s office, Chaklay suddenly said, “Rashel.”

“What is it?”

“Are you certain that once we find him, we’ll be able to catch him?”

Rashel paused, then shook his head. “No, I’m not certain. That boy has proven he can kill those more powerful than himself. Given time, he'll become even more dangerous. But Chaklay, that’s not my concern. My job is to locate him. How to deal with him... that’s your problem.”

Chaklay’s face turned steely.

The carriage sped down the avenue, pastoral scenery streaming past the window.

Seated inside, Shuyegrair admired the landscape outside with care.

The vast fields offered an open vista, and from within the carriage, the lush forest in the distance could be seen—the famous fragrant wood grove of Fragrant Leaf City. Fragrant wood was a rare evergreen, its branches straight and slender, treetops reaching skyward. Unlike the massive mist firs of Purgatory Island, these did not block the sunlight but let it pour through their needle-like leaves, bringing light to the earth.

From afar came the crisp sound of woodcutting, a rhythmic and pleasing thud.

Beyond the fragrant wood grove lay rolling hills. On the sunward slopes, clusters of low shrubs bloomed with blue and white flowers, dotted with irregular patches of snow.

The last snow of winter was melting, winter was passing, and all things were returning to green.

After the bloody battle at Lanya Grand Theatre, Shuyegrair had resumed his gentle, youthful appearance.

He dyed his hair anew and donned plain civilian clothes.

Now, he looked every bit a young man working in the city who, having managed to save up a bit, was returning home to visit his family.

The Vanersa region’s public carriages could accommodate eighteen passengers, with a single extended compartment. Long pine benches lined the sides, leaving a narrow aisle in the middle.

Fortunately, the carriage was drawn not by ordinary horses, but by horned cattle renowned for strength and endurance—capable of bearing ample weight.

This trip, there were just twelve passengers in the compartment. Fewer people traveled in winter, sparing Shuyegrair the discomfort of being crowded.

Beside Shuyegrair sat a couple holding a child. Across from him were two men with the look of warriors, swords at their waists, flanking three middle-aged men dressed as merchants—likely the warriors were hired as bodyguards. Near the driver sat a clerk, also traveling solo, and by the door, two burly men whose origins were unclear—perhaps miners.

Apart from the infant, the youngest person in the carriage was Shuyegrair.

Perhaps the long journey had made everyone drowsy; most were dozing, except Shuyegrair and the woman with the child—her alertness owed to her child’s constant fussing.

The little one, barely a year old, perhaps disliked the weather or the jolting ride, cried loudly every so often, forcing his mother to console him repeatedly, while the father remained blissfully unconcerned.

“Oh heavens, he’s wet himself again! Georgie, help me, I need to change his diaper,” the woman complained.

Her husband was dissatisfied. “That’s not a man’s job. You should handle these things yourself.”

Resigned, the woman tackled the task alone.

Shuyegrair offered, “If you need, I can hold the child for you.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” the woman exclaimed gratefully.

She placed the child in Shuyegrair’s hands.

He examined the baby carefully and smiled. “He has beautiful blue eyes.”

“Yes, he’s adorable, just too mischievous. He eats constantly, wets himself constantly, then sleeps. But even when he sleeps, he’s restless,” she said, laughing as she changed the diaper.

“What’s his name?” Shuyegrair asked.

“Paddy.”

“Paddy?”

“Yes, it means happiness,” she replied sweetly. She finished changing the diaper and took the child back. “Thank you so much for your help.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Nancy.”

“Pardon?”

She laughed. “I said my name is Nancy. Nancy Blair. Blair’s my husband’s surname.”

Shuyegrair lowered his head in thought. “My name is Cecil.”

Nancy’s husband grumbled, “I don’t see why you should give your full name just for a trivial gesture.”

Nancy shot him an exasperated look. “Oh really? A trivial gesture? So trivial my husband won’t help, because it’s not a man’s job!”

Her husband was irritated. Shuyegrair quickly said, “If my good intentions cause discord between you two, I’ll feel uneasy.”

The couple glared at each other, the husband pretending to nap, while Nancy turned back to Shuyegrair with a sweet smile. “Regardless, I owe you thanks.”

“When traveling, it’s best to help each other,” Shuyegrair replied quietly.

“I seldom see a child your age traveling alone. You shouldn’t leave your parents’ care so soon,” Nancy remarked. “The road isn’t safe; trouble or danger could strike at any time. It’s better to travel with companions, to look out for one another.”

“Thanks to Shuyegrair, the odds of lone boys being robbed have dropped sharply lately,” her husband muttered, eyes closed.

Nancy nearly jumped as if hearing a dreadful name. “Oh, don’t mention that demon! My goodness, you always do this.”

“Maybe the one beside you is him,” her husband said offhandedly.

“Nonsense! You think someone who killed Aburite would be sitting here helping me change diapers?” Nancy glared at him. “I doubt I could attract such a person. I can’t even move you.”

“At least you could seduce him.”

Nancy glared at her husband, embarrassed, and looked at Shuyegrair. “Don’t mind him—that’s just how he is.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” Shuyegrair smiled.

“I’m heading to Royotown, to visit my family. Since the child was born, his grandparents haven’t met him. How about you?”

“Bilias Mountains.”

“What brings you there?”

Shuyegrair thought, then replied, “Searching for lost treasure.”

Nancy covered her mouth, laughing. “That’s an adult’s fantasy—didn't think you’d have it too.”

“I always felt I was already an adult,” Shuyegrair answered with a smile.

“Children always think they’re grown, while the old always think they’re still young,” Nancy laughed.

The journey to Royotown would take twelve more days, passing through the Meha Plains and skirting the Silent Forest. Along the way, new travelers boarded, and old ones departed. People came and went, but Nancy, her husband, and the merchants with their guards remained throughout.

This provided a steady circle of conversation partners, sparing them the need to introduce themselves to each new passenger.

As the carriage traveled farther, the influence of the name Shuyegrair faded with distance.

On the tenth day, the carriage reached the outskirts of the Bilias mountain range.

Bilias was the most chaotic region in the Lance Empire.

The terrain was complex—Vanersa and Meha Plains to the north, Linglan Highlands to the south, beyond which lay the Franque Empire, currently at war with Lance. Westward stretched the endless ocean.

The Bilias region included the Silent Forest, Bilias Range, and the Abis Mountains, with wild plains at the joints and a large population of native tribes.

Sparse resources, complex geography, and variable climate made this a severely impoverished area of the empire. Poverty breeds chaos; the locals developed fierce customs. The mountain folk are hardy, and the few forest races are extremely xenophobic, making imperial influence difficult to extend here.

As a place beyond the empire’s easy reach, many fugitives flee to this region. Over time, Bilias became a haven for chaos and crime.

For most, crossing Bilias is extremely dangerous—they must pray not to encounter bandits.

If they meet human bandits, they’re lucky. But if they encounter native tribes—like jungle elves or goblins—it could be disastrous. Fortunately, most natives stay deep within the mountains, rarely venturing into human lands.

In fact, the chance of caravans being waylaid by bandits here is as high as fifteen percent.

That is, out of every hundred groups, fifteen are attacked.

A terrifying statistic.

It’s said the unluckiest caravan was robbed six times in three days crossing Bilias.

When they finally emerged, they didn’t even have a single rag left.

But public carriages are less frequently targeted.

Bandits rarely bother with public carriages. Wealthy nobles don’t ride them, so the effort hardly pays off—what they could steal might not even feed a whole band for a meal.

Thus, some still gamble on crossing here. War has halted trade; any specialty goods smuggled between countries fetch a high price.

The merchants on the carriage were likely hoping for such a windfall.

After days of acquaintance, Shuyegrair and the Blairs had become thoroughly familiar, so much so he’d lost count of how many times he’d helped Nancy change diapers or run errands. He seemed the helpful neighborhood boy—no one could imagine linking him to the infamous Shuyegrair.

But such warmth and harmony are always fleeting.

They never seem to belong to Shuyegrair.

While chatting with Nancy today, the carriage, which had been speeding along, suddenly stopped.

A commotion and noisy shouting erupted outside.

Almost instinctively, Shuyegrair’s hand trembled, releasing Wind Wren; his body curved into a bow-like posture, ready to react instantly.

“What’s happening?” Blair, the husband, cried out.

No one answered. Everyone peered out the windows.

The driver shouted, “Bandits! They’ve cut down trees and blocked the road!”

From inside, the road ahead couldn’t be seen, but dozens of bandits surged from all sides, shouting as they charged toward the carriage.

Clearly, their luck had run out—a band of less choosy bandits had found them.

“Oh my God!” Nancy was terrified, covering her face with her hands.

Her husband Blair shouted angrily, “I knew we shouldn’t have come to your family now! You’re going to get us killed!”

The carriage was in chaos; every passenger panicked.

Secretly drawing a sharp dagger from his ring, Shuyegrair hid it on his person.

Before the bandits reached the carriage, he opened the door and jumped out.

Perhaps because he was the first to disembark, the charging bandits focused their attention on him.