Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

The group of people were speechless with astonishment. They stared at the human figure made of branches and straw, exchanging bewildered glances... especially after noticing the dirty sheepskin robe on top.

This is the clothes the boy was wearing—and it was because of this sheepskin robe that they didn't even recognize it as a dummy made of tree branches when they got within a dozen meters of it... It wasn't until the First World pierced through the target that they realized something was wrong.

"Why did that kid take off his clothes? Even if he fooled us for now, he'll freeze to death in the snow anyway. He might as well get stabbed and die a quick death."

While others were still wondering, Turia's expression changed drastically:

"Oh no, we have to go back!"

So the group that had just arrived followed their leader back, somewhat confused. During this process, many of them realized what was happening and showed expressions of panic.

But they were too late...

Left by the burning fire, the two guards who had been watching over the cattle and sheep had been searched naked and lay on the ground. One of them had his neck cut open by a sharp blade, revealing the rough cut and the deep white neck bone. The other had an arrow piercing his chest, and he didn't seem to have struggled much. The blood flowing from their wounds stained a large patch of snow, a glaring and shocking red.

Their horses, clothes, and weapons were all taken away, leaving only messy hoofprints that disappeared into the nearby woods, gradually vanishing amidst the increasingly heavy snowfall.

Turia dismounted and took two steps forward to the tent. He looked down at the footprints on the ground—although there were quite a few footprints around, a gut feeling told him that these were the kid's.

Right next to the footprints was a severed little finger, cut off at the second joint. The bloody cut was still oozing crimson liquid, and white bone and tendons could be seen inside.

These definitely don't belong to those two guys' fingers...

As if in response, the wind and snow suddenly intensified, sweeping across the sky and howling like ghosts, obscuring the surrounding view. Only the wreckage of the tent beside him remained, still burning fiercely, and puffs of snowflakes lashed at his cheeks, quickly accumulating into a white layer on his clothes.

This was destined to be a difficult night; only by sheltering from the wind and snow could one survive, which was especially deadly for a fugitive.

........................

He is a man now... because hatred has fallen into his hands, and he needs to take revenge. It is his responsibility and his mission to live. He is no longer a child or a boy; he is Cheldoi, the son of Sakhoto.

Outside the cave, the snowflakes had formed a white curtain, obscuring everything just a few steps away. In this kind of weather, no creature would venture outside, no matter how thick their fur. Under such heavy snow, they would be swallowed up and buried, turning into frozen corpses. Such a sturdy and warm cave was naturally an excellent shelter.

He was wrapped in two layers of sheepskin robes, so he wasn't so cold anymore. Or rather, the real cold was yet to come—there would be a period of extreme cold after the heavy snow stopped, cold enough to freeze a person's nose off. Right now, they were still in the initial stage of the temperature drop.

He hid two horses and a cow in the cave. It was spacious enough to be hidden and to keep out the wind and snow... enough for him to hide there and finish what he needed to do.

His grief and anger were as cold and violent as a raging snowstorm, yet he quietly suppressed them deep within his heart. At the same time, a sense of bewildering loneliness and weightlessness also left him somewhat lost... Just this morning, he still had one last person he could call family, but by nightfall, he would be all alone, and no one would call him "my son" anymore...

He had lost his mother and was no longer bound by any constraints. He could now become a warrior, plunder wealth, and gain glory, just as he had imagined. But he did not feel relieved. Instead, a terrible sadness and loss gnawed at him like the teeth of a hungry wolf, as if he had lost his own heart.

Fortunately, he still knows what he should do, and there are things for him to do...

319 Deterioration (3)

A good bow is always valuable because it requires a great deal of effort and time. It is carefully crafted by skilled artisans, who prepare materials, glue the ribs and corners, scrape and adjust, dry and polish it, and go through a series of tedious processes before there is a chance of making such a good bow.

No matter how skilled a craftsman is, there is a chance of failure in making such delicate items. A small oversight can cause a flaw, which makes the flawless pieces even more precious.

As the fingers released their grip, the highly elastic bow arm snapped back, its astonishing power building up within the arrow. It propelled the sharp, slender object with lightning speed, tearing through the swirling snowflakes and piercing a rabbit's neck, pinning the plump rabbit directly to a nearby log.

He silently walked over and retrieved his prey, his fingers tracing the handle of the bow in his hand, carefully avoiding getting the prey's blood on it... The bow had a strong rebound and a smooth draw. Exquisite birch bark was cut into diamond-shaped pieces and covered the entire bow, painted with fine cloud patterns. The connection between the bow tip and the bow arm featured prominent ridges, like the powerful tendons that taut from the wrist when exerting force.

Compared to this bow, the rubbish he made was only fit for burning as fuel. Comparing them was an insult to the craftsman who made this fine bow. He could easily exchange it for dozens of sheep, and people would be fighting over it.

He couldn't even draw the bow fully; he could only draw it to about six-tenths full, yet it already possessed astonishing power. The arrow he had just shot had even driven four inches into the tree trunk, and it took him a long time to dig it out with a knife.

The one who wields this bow with ease is undoubtedly a top-tier warrior. Such a warrior will not be defeated by sorrow and suffering; the more scars he bears, the stronger and more proud he becomes. His enemies tremble in fear, his scimitar thirsts for blood, and his arrows pierce through the chest, hunting for wealth and honor for himself...

He is not yet that kind of warrior, like this bow that cannot be drawn... but he can follow in the footsteps of such a warrior, and he still remembers what that man said.

But before that, he has to kill a few people.

Without any intention of starting a fire, he tore open the rabbit's skin and sipped the still-warm blood inside. Finally, he used his fingers to pull out the tiny heart and threw it into his mouth to chew, his mouth full of blood, like a starving wolf.

As he gnawed on the warm flesh and chewed on the brittle bones, savoring the taste of the thick marrow melting in his mouth, his eyes remained as cold as ice, gazing at the meadow below the hill and the scattered tents within.

The more intensely the hatred burned in his heart, the calmer he became, like a block of scalding ice...

........................

"You think a little kid can scare you so much you can't even sleep? You all always brag like they're the best, but now you see you're all cowards. I'm not going to waste my time here with you guys. I still have a long life to live."

Finally, one of the men could no longer bear it. He stood up from the group, gathered his sheepskin robe, and prepared to open the tent flap and go out... They had been there for two whole days, and had gone out to search for the boy several times without success. After a heavy snowfall, even dogs couldn't smell anything, let alone people searching for him.

After all that commotion, they were all exhausted. The unluckiest one even ruined a pair of boots from the wet, cold mud. Everyone was full of complaints, especially since that kid hadn't shown up for the past few days and hadn't made a sound, leading most of them to believe that he had already fled in a sorry state.

This man was the one among them who was most dissatisfied—after all, he wasn't a wealthy man. Although he saw the potential for profit and came to help with the hay gathering, he couldn't keep neglecting his cattle and sheep; that would truly be a loss.

At this moment, all he could think about was taking the few fat sheep he had snatched home. How could he possibly linger here? Not to mention doing nothing but riding around aimlessly.

That's why he was filled with determination at that moment. After straightening his robe, he pushed open the tent door and was about to crawl out...

“If you want to die, go alone. I’m sure that bastard is watching this place. He’ll slit your throat halfway there.”

Turia's icy voice acted like a rope binding his feet, causing the man to stop abruptly. After a slight hesitation, he turned around and said fiercely:

"He's just a kid, what can he do? If he dares to show his face in front of me, I can twist his head off with my bare hands! Saluhei! Aren't you also about to give up? Let's go together!"

As soon as he finished speaking, a commotion arose among the group. A short, stocky man stood up shortly after, also hesitant, but ultimately made up his mind:

“Okay, let’s go back together. We can’t spend all our time on this little brat. I’ll go back and get some people to help us look for him. We can also take the sheep back with us.”

This immediately caused a stir among everyone, and others were also tempted. In the blink of an eye, all eight people who had gathered here were about to leave, and this already loose alliance was about to collapse.

Turia panicked immediately, jumped up from his seat, drew his knife, and slammed it into the table.

"Have you all been brainwashed by worms?! Have you all forgotten how those two died? If we don't kill that bastard first, we'll never have a good life again. He could sneak into your tent in the middle of the night at any time! He won't dare to make a move if we're all together, but once we're scattered, he can kill you all one by one!"

“You guys who insist on leaving, I have one question for you—can you close your eyes in peace when you go back today? Aren’t you afraid that a knife will slit your throat while you’re sleeping? We have to get together and kill this guy first before you can lead your sheep home. Otherwise, you’re all just asking for death.”

His sudden move stunned everyone for a moment... but only temporarily, and soon after, some people expressed their dissatisfaction with him:

"Wasn't it you who sent us here to steal the stuff? If that brat is really as powerful as you say, why didn't you think of that beforehand? You even led us to burn his mother to death! And now you're here spouting nonsense... Where were you all this time?"

"That's right, you weren't this scared when we did it before, how come you're so terrified now?!"

"With just the few of us, how long will it take to find them? We might as well go back now and call more people. Wouldn't it be faster to find them with more people? It's better than wasting time here."

………………

Faced with these accusations all at once, the young and impetuous Turia blushed crimson.

"You have the nerve to criticize me! When we were robbing, why weren't you a little slower? I led you all to get everything, and now you're blaming me?... I think you're all just......"

Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly froze, his expression stiffening. He carefully surveyed his surroundings with a strange look before finally asking:

"Where did the two who were supposed to leave at the beginning go?"

"left already."

A gaunt old man blew his nose and waved his hand dismissively.

"They were already gone before we even started arguing, and they've probably run almost half a mile by now..."

--------

"This damn weather! It was sunny for a little while and then it started snowing again, damn it! My fingers are frozen."

The two men rode their horses along the road. As dusk approached, they quickened their pace, moving a little faster than usual towards their tribe. Snowflakes drifted down and settled lightly on their sheepskin robes and fox-fur hats.

“We’re already having such a hard time even with tents to stay in, and that little brat didn’t even dare to light a fire outside. I think he probably froze to death long ago. With the snow so heavy yesterday, how could he not freeze to death while hiding outside? You can’t survive by just taking off two dead people’s clothes.”

His companion next to him was also shivering from the cold, reaching his hands forward into the saddle's inner lining to warm his fingers with the horse's warmth, his breath coming out in white spit like icicles as he spoke.

"...I do think that bastard does have some skills. Although Bartoli and Sayer are useless and only came along shamelessly this time, they are still two men... Oh well, we're already out here, so let them be. We'll just be careful when we get back to the tribe. That kid is thinking about revenge, so he'll definitely go after that guy Turia first."

“That’s right. Anyway, I only took two sheep. We didn’t even start the fire. If we don’t go back now, the cattle and sheep in the pen will freeze to death, and we’ll lose money. Let them keep messing around there.”

"Speaking of those guys from the east, have you seen them?"

"I haven't seen them yet. I heard their clothes are a little different from ours, but other than that, I can't tell the difference..."

The roadside was crowded with cow husks, these low-growing trees were everywhere here, and at this moment, half of the dry treetops were covered with white, while the layers of the tree were a thick black.

The moon was frequently obscured by clouds today, making their conversation softer. Only two lines of horses' hooves remained on the snow-covered road, startling a rabbit in the nearby grass, but by the time they noticed it, it had already disappeared into the darkness…

320 The Departed Boy

"How is it? Any news?"

“Nothing happened. The two who left first have already returned to their tribe. This morning I saw him come out and sell those sheep, and he got a lot of cloth to take back.”

“I told you Turia was being paranoid! Look, nothing’s happened. If that brat really wanted to make a move, wouldn’t it have been a good opportunity to strike those two who left first last night when they were alone? Let’s not waste any more time here. If we keep going like this, those fat sheep we’ve been given will go hungry.”

"That's right. Yesterday when we tried to leave, he fought us and forced us to stay another night. Who has time to waste here with him? I don't believe this kid can really cause trouble! Let's go!"

“Are you guys still here to go crazy with him? I’m not going to play along with you anymore, Turia. If you keep causing trouble, don’t blame me for using a knife.”

…………

The tent was filled with complaints and grumbling, with almost everyone grumbling and spitting out their grievances. Turia, who had stopped them from leaving the day before, naturally became the target of everyone's criticism and attacks.

Turia's face flushed red. The facts were right in front of him—the two people who left yesterday had not been attacked at all. They had gone through the most remote cattle shed forest and returned to their tribe normally.

In fact, even he had some doubts at this moment... because if it were him, he would never let go of this good opportunity. It would be difficult to make a move once those two people returned to the tribe, since there were people and dogs there, and the slightest movement would alert a large group of people.

Did that kid really run away?...

Thinking it over, he immediately lost his confidence to refute, and the others shook their heads at his demeanor. With no intention of continuing the argument, they quickly left their tents, mounted their horses, and led their loot back home.

Turia's lips trembled a few times, but in the end he said nothing, only watching with a gloomy expression as these guys dispersed one by one and soon disappeared into the drizzling snowflakes.

After all, they were just a gang that banded together to rob someone; they had no affiliation and weren't even friends. If it weren't for their envy of this family who had suddenly made a small fortune...

Thinking of this, he began to feel indignant again—after working so hard for so long, he still hadn't gotten what he wanted most... that beautiful bow that had captivated him at first sight, something he had longed for for days, something he had even tried to obtain despite his desperate desires.

He had never seen such a fine bow before, so fine that it made him feel like the one he was using was a toy made from a twig. He was almost going crazy with longing for it. In the end, he searched the tattered tent from top to bottom but still couldn't find it.

So what was the point of all this commotion? His accomplices are all gone; he couldn't even eliminate them completely. Was it just to create an enemy for himself?!

His face contorted with rage as he gritted his teeth and kicked a pile of wood next to a snowdrift, sending up a cloud of snow dust and sending several pieces of wood flying. Then, a sharp pain shot through his toes, forcing him to grit his teeth and pull his foot back.

Damn it, at least that kid got away, so at least we didn't lose out...

………………

Did Cheldoi really escape? ...If he knew what his enemies were thinking, he would be overjoyed, laughing until tears streamed down his face, biting his own lips until they bled, tasting the salty taste of his own blood as he cheered and applauded.

He didn't know what kind of willpower he had to let those two guys leave... At that time, he was perfectly hidden in the bushes, hidden in the darkness, while the two guys who had just invaded his tent were on the bright road. If they couldn't see their position, they would be shot down by arrows. Even if they weren't hit, the tripwires set up on the road could give them an extra surprise.

The blood of his enemies would surely bring him immense comfort, ecstasy, and relief from the burning pain in his heart... It might even give him a reason to escape—his body was not yet strong and mature, and even if he were a strong adult man, killing all his enemies would be a huge risk; a slight misstep could result in being hacked to pieces.

Being able to kill four enemies is enough to amaze anyone, and it would satisfy even the most demanding old man...

But he was not satisfied.

He rejected this seemingly reasonable idea without hesitation. His ambition was astonishing, and his appetite was not small. He knew how to lure his prey out and how to make them lower their guard. So he quietly removed his tripwire in the dark and watched helplessly as the two unsuspecting guys left.

He knew this would send a safe signal to the others, and he also knew that after several days of fruitless searching, they were extremely impatient, which would prompt them to leave and lead them to draw the wrong conclusions.

As he stripped off his robe and crawled naked back to his tent, buried in the snow, he etched the faces and names of every enemy into his heart—fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he knew them all…

Now, it's time to fulfill my vow.

..............................

A large, fluffy dog ​​was fast asleep, but its sleep was not deep. Its nimble ears twitched from time to time, catching any movement around it. If anything seemed amiss, it would immediately jump up and let out a loud bark, waking up the men in the surrounding tents.

No wild beast can kill it without making a sound—but humans can.

The arrowhead coated with black gentian did not emit any light in the darkness. As the powerful bow was slowly drawn back, with a low tremor, the poisoned, sharp arrow pierced the large dog's throat, bringing out a whimper and a tremor, but they were all very faint, like a person whispering.

His boots were wrapped in thick cloth to keep him as quiet as possible, and he moved along the edge of the tent like a big gray rat, his face covered with a thick layer of soot. Even his mother wouldn't recognize him for a while.

His movements were so light, as light as a snowflake falling from the sky, almost weightless, like a real mouse, that he reached the tent entrance and then inserted the sharp blade of a dagger into the crack...

Everything unfolded so naturally—the dagger, its blade coated with codonopsis, had no luster whatsoever. The terrible poison began to spread the moment it pierced the throat, and the subsequent act of cutting the throat was merely a precaution.

But since it was his first time doing this, his movements were still a bit clumsy, which startled the woman next to him. However, before she could scream, he had already covered her mouth with his hand, and the dagger in his hand plunged into her heart. With a twist and turn, he easily salvaged his mistake.

He then spent a very short time briefly searching for valuables, finding a dozen or so coins before leaving again, leaving behind only two gradually cooling corpses.

Then came the second tent, and this time he caused a little trouble.

The man's brother was easily killed; the blood gushing from his slit throat even splattered onto the top of the tent, and all that could be seen in his wide-open eyes was his face, smeared with soot from the bottom of a pot... But the worst part was that his last struggle before death brought his brother back to his senses.

Every man in the North knows he can't be completely unarmed—that would mean certain death if he faced danger. So he wasn't too surprised when the other man pulled a dagger from under his head.

It seems he messed things up... but he had anticipated this and prepared a poisoned blade, so he had no intention of confronting the other party head-on. After dodging the first blow, before the man could even call for help in his panic, he threw the dagger in his hand and plunged it into the man's chest, then caught the suddenly collapsing corpse.

Cold sweat trickled down his forehead, but it dried quickly. He was genuinely relieved that no one from the tribe was patrolling outside.

After a brief search, he took the tent out again and quietly led away the two horses tied outside—this was important for his next move.