Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 369 The Threat of the Desert

Thales, carrying his pack and struggling with his body, which was still recovering from a serious illness, walked panting behind the camels of the caravan.

Although the sand beneath his feet was still difficult to traverse, although his skin wrapped in burlap was still damp and uncomfortable, and although the scorching sun was still relentless, the boy's heart had calmed down considerably.

Without him.

“I’m telling you, Kanze, I’m really telling you,” the rookie mercenary, Quick Rope, said excitedly to Kanze, the burly man from the North, who was also inside “Dant’s Greatsword,” as he walked beside the first camel.
"What I'm talking about is absolutely a sure thing... Think about it, the work we do is so dangerous, it's like we're putting our lives on the line. Even when we're shaking our dicks after we've finished peeing, we have to be careful about the frequency, worried that we might shake our heads off. Maybe one day we'll run into a tough situation and not be able to get back. Then your wife and daughters will be devastated, and you'll be left destitute..."

"Fuck you, Quick Rope," Kanze, already impatient, slung a two-handed greatsword over his shoulder, stepped over a boulder, and gave the incessantly chattering Quick Rope a disgusted look: "Didn't your mother teach you not to curse people?"

Thales looked up at the camel caravan stretching out in a line ahead, at the merchants chatting at the front and back of the caravan, and at the mercenaries riding horses in the distance, and couldn't help but curl the corners of his mouth into a smile.

Compared to being hopeless, being imprisoned in solitude is like trudging painfully through a desert.

You can see signs of human habitation, encounter crowds, and hear their conversations, some joyful, some dejected...

That's great.

Quick Rope shook his head desperately.

"I was just giving you an example... but think about it, if you put this money in Tampa's treasury now, and you come back alive, he'll give you 90% of it back. If you die, Tampa will pay your family ten times the amount. Wouldn't that make your death meaningful? — Hey, hey, no, no, good Kanze, good Kanze, great Kanze, handsome Kanze, don't hit me! I was just giving you an example, hey, no, ouch..."

Thales shook his head, took a step, and turned his gaze away from Quick Rope, who had just been brutally beaten.

“Looks like you’re recovering well,” a mercenary returning from patrol said, his head covered with a thick turban. He dismounted beside Thales and walked, letting the horse, which had been exhausted from running under the scorching sun, rest. “But you’ve only just recovered, so don’t push yourself. You might as well stay on the camel’s back.”

Big Dean removed his headscarf, revealing a smooth head, and strapped a fighting axe back over his shoulder.

Thales smiled at the bald mercenary: "I think doing some restorative exercise is beneficial."

“I think he means,” McKee, carrying two swords, rode past Big Dean expressionlessly, not even glancing at Thales, “that if you fall again, we don’t have time to waste on a burden.”

Thales watched awkwardly as McGee, his face covered in tattoos, rode past them to hand over his shift to his teammates.

I think he doesn't like me.

He frowned as he watched McGee's retreating figure.

“Obviously, you can’t turn everyone into your fans,” Dean said thoughtfully, watching his companion walk away. “Especially McGee.”

“Given his past experiences, McGee is very wary.”

"He was suspicious of every stranger before he got to know them well."

Thales forced a smile.

This was the third day after he was rescued by the caravan.

"Dant's Greatsword" was a mercenary team of moderate size: the short warrior "Breeze," who was in charge of scouting, fell asleep as soon as he returned; Hubert, a former blacksmith from Steel City, smiled shyly; the pot-bellied Allenbian, Harken, asked Thales amicably if he was married (if not, he wanted to introduce one of his seven unmarried sisters to Thales); the gruff Northman, Kanze, always liked to pat people on the shoulder; the archer, Panga, who whistled for no reason, glanced at Thales and went to urinate; plus Quick Rope, Old Hammer, McKee, Hearthfire, as well as Big Dean and their leader, Louisa Dante—at least for this journey, they had eleven professional mercenaries working day and night to protect this small caravan of twenty people and twenty-three camels safely across the desert to the famous Tower of the End.

Thales sometimes wondered: were so few people really enough to protect the caravan?

“Of course, we are outnumbered when facing gangs of dozens of sand bandits,” Dean told him. “But the fact that there are armed caravans speaks volumes: are the sand bandits willing to risk their lives to fight eleven fully armed professional killers like us?”

"They might win, but at a heavy cost, and they won't have many men left. The next robbery might be their end."

"That's our purpose, and that's how mercenaries survive. Deterrence is more important than risking our lives. After all, we're not a suicide squad—except for those hundred-man regiments that specialize in fighting." Dean shook his head at that time.

Thales was grateful for their rescue and shelter, especially after the terrible sandstorm he had encountered the day before—in the pitch-black grayness, the howling wind was terrifying, Thales couldn't even hear his own words, and could only desperately cover his head to hide. The howling sand was more terrifying than a knife, relentlessly striking anything exposed to the air and squeezing into every crevice it could find, with such force that it almost tore Thales's flesh and skin. It was only thanks to the experienced caravan that they had taken shelter in a windproof spot that they survived the crisis by huddling together with the camel caravan. He understood that the fact that he had walked for four whole days in the terrifying desert before fainting, and then encountered rescue with only a little dehydration, agitation, and desert hallucinations, was truly a stroke of incredible luck from the desert god.

Thinking of this, Thales smiled at Dean: "Thank you, Dean, you saved my life—even though I'm a stranger, and quite possibly a spy for the sand bandits."

Dean paused slightly, then smiled gently.

He hooked the horse to a camel in front of him, deliberately stretching the rope out a bit longer to prevent the camel's scent from affecting the horse:

"Take care of each other—that's our creed, the creed of merchants and mercenaries who live off the desert."

Dean exhaled and sighed slightly, "Many years ago, Wyman, I was just like you—of course, I was much older than you are now—at my wit's end, lying alone in the desert, barely clinging to life, waiting to die in despair."

He shook his head: "It was Dante, I mean Louisa's father, old Dante, who redeemed me from the ferrymen of the Hell River with his passion and perseverance, even though they themselves were in a terrible state at the time."

“People always need to rely on each other and depend on one another—that’s what Dante told me.”

"A person cannot survive alone in the vast desert."

Thales nodded thoughtfully.

It turned out to be the case.

“So you entered Dante’s Greatsword and became interdependent with them,” Thales murmured. “That’s why you saved my life—even though it was risky.”

Dean looked at the sand dunes in the distance and nodded slowly.

“In the vast desert, if we don’t help each other, we’ll just be swallowed up by it,” the bald mercenary patted his mount.
“You’ve seen sandstorms, and even the most terrifying black storms will find a way to survive and escape when faced with life-or-death enemies. Don’t worry, Wyman, we can get along well on this journey, and you will definitely be able to return home to your family and put your worries aside.”

Thales sighed. "Thank you."

Dean smiled but didn't say anything.

"Yes," Thales murmured to himself, "he had no choice."

Drought, heat, sandstorms, and cold—if he were to leave the caravan alone, he would die in this merciless desert within a few days. In contrast, this caravan was experienced, had supplies, protection, and knew the route well, making following them undoubtedly the right choice.

We'll have to figure things out once we reach their destination.

Thales sighed inwardly.

They'll have to go back to Baki Dunes, back to the Western Wilderness, won't they?
Lost in thought, Thales stopped in his tracks and nearly bumped into the camel in front of him.

The boy then realized with surprise that the caravan had stopped.

"What's wrong?" Thales peered at the camel caravan lined up in front of him, but couldn't see it clearly, so he asked Dean beside him in confusion.

Dean just frowned and didn't answer.

"Dean!"

You need to take a look at this!

As the distinctive thud of hooves hitting the sand echoed, the mercenary scout, the short "Breeze," galloped past many bewildered merchants and anxiously reined in his horse in front of Dean.

He said anxiously, "Luisa has discovered something up ahead!"

Dean's expression changed.

The bald warrior picked up his single-edged fighting axe, his face grave, and mounted his warhorse.

"McGee, quick rope, grab your weapons, mount your horses and follow me!"

"Kanzer, you and Hubert stay where you are and remain vigilant, especially watching the back slopes of the sand dunes on both sides!"

His orders were decisive and swift, and the mercenaries obeyed without hesitation.

what happened?
Thales gripped the Time Crossbow tightly with a hint of nervousness, watching the serious-looking mercenaries ride past the caravan and head in another direction.

He wasn't the only one with this doubt; the others in the caravan whispered among themselves in surprise and uncertainty. Thales even saw some people unload their goods, pale-faced, and mount their camels, seemingly preparing to flee at the first sign of trouble. A dozen minutes later, McKee and Quickrope returned, but their expressions were grave.

The caravan continued its journey.

"Dean and Louisa went to see the caravan leader; they need to have a serious discussion."

Under Thales's subtle probing, Quick Rope managed to keep a straight face and whispered to the boy, "We found a small camp not far away."

"But everyone inside is dead."

Thales was startled.

"How did you die?"

Quick Rope, looking sullen, led his mount forward with the caravan: "They were killed."

Thales frowned, looking suspiciously at the uneasy Quick Rope: "What?"

"Who did it?"

"I don't know, that's what's really frustrating."

But then Quick Rope's eyes lit up, and a smug look flashed in his eyes as he looked at Thales.

“This is your first time in the desert, isn’t it, lucky Wyatt?” Quick Rope sighed and coughed knowingly. “Besides temperature and drought, and of course sand, there are two of the most notorious threats in the desert.”

He leaned closer and said mysteriously, "Orcs, and Bone People."

Thales' expression hardened.

"They usually gather in their own tribes, have their own livestock and territories, migrate frequently throughout the seasons, and when threatened, they move out in groups."

Thales instinctively tightened his grip on the Time Crossbow under his arm: "You mean, the one who killed those people was..."

"No no no."

Quick Rope shook his head, looking very experienced: "Even if you're unlucky and fall into the hands of a slightly larger tribe, you're not necessarily doomed. Based on experience, the Bone People will estimate your price, the Orcs will weigh you, and then decide whether to have sex with you or sell you—or have sex with you and then sell you."

Based on experience?

Thales looked at the serious-looking quick rope with a strange expression.

"Sell?"

Thales coughed and repeated, "Where to sell it?"

Kuai Rope smiled happily.

Do you know Caligri?

“Caligri?” Thales paused slightly, feeling as if he had heard of this place somewhere before.

"Yes."

Speaking of this, Quick Rope's eyes lit up: "Kaligri, the legendary desert city... Some say it's an impregnable fortress deep in the desert, others say it's a large camp formed by several tribes that migrates with the seasons, still others say it's an ancient underground city that has existed for thousands of years and is occupied by the people of the desert, and some even say that Kaligri is the playground of some evil dragon in the desert, where it enjoys watching people kill each other."

Thales was genuinely stunned for a moment.

"A dragon...is there in the desert?"

But Quick Rope just waved his hand impatiently: "Don't interrupt me... Anyway, Kaligri is the most mysterious, bustling, and dangerous place in the desert. Bone people and orcs are frequent visitors there, and legend has it that it has close ties with several major desert tribes."

"Once you're captured, whether by the Bone People or the Orcs, they'll sell you there, turning you into a slave, into someone else's property. Until you can move, they'll make you fight, sell you into prostitution, do anything that can earn you profit, to please the big shots in the desert..."

"but."

Quick Rope's eyes narrowed, and his tone suddenly changed: "Whether it's organized orcs or skeletons, they are not the biggest concern for the desert caravans—at least they have order and their own rules, no matter how unbelievable those rules may seem. Sometimes, some tribes even welcome the caravans' visits."

Quick Rope squinted and raised his index finger: "But what if you encounter sand bandits..."

“Outlaws who have fled into the desert from the outside, those scum and madmen who have reached the end of their rope and have nothing left to lose.”

Quick Rope's expression turned terrifying: "Then you should pray to the Desert God or Sunset and Bright Moon—they don't know what it means to be lenient, what it means to be a prisoner, or what it means to show mercy."

Thales looked at him with trepidation.

But the rope wasn't over yet: "Even worse, you've run into exiles..."

"Exiles?"

Quick Rope squinted and nodded: "The most dangerous beings in the desert are both Bone People and Orcs."

"They were exiled from their tribes for making mistakes and forced to wander alone—but don't forget, these people were formidable warriors trained in large tribes, powerful and experienced, who could traverse the desert as if it were their own home. After losing the protection of their tribes, they gradually lost their principles and rules, their honor and sense of belonging. Year after year, they endured the torment of the scorching sun and sandstorms, becoming cruel, vicious, and tyrannical. To survive, they had to band together, even joining forces with sand bandits, but their threat far exceeded that of ordinary sand bandits."

Quick Rope's expressions and tone of voice rose and fell with his words, making him look vivid and lively.

His voice turned somber: "They often have no bottom line; in order to survive, they will even do things beyond imagination."

“Things beyond imagination…” Thales murmured, “For example?”

Quick rope's face tightened.

He took a deep breath, hunched his neck, and mysteriously uttered a few words in front of Thales: "Cannibalism."

Thales's breath hitched.

"So, the rumors that people eat people in the desert, and that children are sold there to be eaten by skeletons or beastmen..."

“It’s true,” Quickstrip said coldly, looking at him. “Or partly true.”

Thales did not speak.

“Wyatt, the desert is very dangerous. A perfectly healthy person might not breathe tomorrow.” Quick Rope’s voice was filled with melancholy: “The fear of death and the capriciousness of fate constantly occupy our minds and bodies.”

"So, in order to overcome this fear, Wyman, we have a way..."

Thales stared at him blankly, then suddenly realized something was wrong.

Quick Rope coughed and said, "Let me tell you, there's a tavern owner named Tampa in Baki Dunes. He promises that if you deposit some money with him and you make it back alive, he'll return 90% of it. But if you don't make it back alive..."

Just now.

Snapped!
A fully armed woman suddenly appeared behind them and slapped Kuaisheng hard on the back of the head!
"Ahhh—Luisa!"

"Quick rope, you brat!"

The mercenary captain, Louisa Dante, angrily lashed out at Quick Rope's head, sending him scurrying away with his head in his hands.

"It's rare to see someone engaging in your crooked and shady money-making schemes!"

"besides!"

"Stop trying to fool people with your hearsay and rudimentary knowledge!"

(End of this chapter)