CHAPTER 377: CHAPTER 21: ELOPE (2)_2

"If one day, you found out I lied to you, would you be mad?"

"You lied to me?"

"No, I mean, ’if’. It’s just a hypothetical scenario."

Christina stared blankly for a moment, then smiled and replied, "I don’t know, probably not."

Those eyes were still so clear, as if they could see straight into the soul. Somehow, this clarity made Andrew a little uneasy.

When they first entered this desert, Andrew was somewhat wary, staying on guard in the dead of night. After all, who knew what might lurk in these desolate sands—perhaps a gang of bandits? In such an uninhabited place, robbing travelers and disposing of their bodies would be all too convenient.

However, he quickly realized that there weren’t even any bandits here. Aside from the vultures circling in the sky and the snakes, insects, and rodents on the ground, there was nothing else at all.

Another night passed.

Just in case, Andrew had ensured they loaded extra dead wood onto the wagon—after all, even in this barren desert, dead wood wasn’t something you stumbled across every step of the way.

And so, they continued northward.

The journey was as monotonous as ever, just a mechanical trudge forward. The surrounding scenery seemed to never change.

Andrew was on the verge of dozing off. Were it not for the fear that the horse would stop once he fell asleep, and he’d wake up to find himself still in the same spot, Andrew would have gladly given in to slumber.

Christina, on the other hand, remained as cheerful as ever, sitting on the wagon and curiously looking around, finding joy in everything she saw.

Andrew had started to believe that this trip would continue in this uneventful fashion. Yes, the journey was long, yes, the environment was harsh, but nothing would happen. It was just a matter of time before they made it through.

However, on the seventh day since they entered the desert, at midday, an entire cavalry unit appeared in front of them.

Andrew was stunned.

They lined up in a row—forty riders in total. Mounted on tall, strong horses, dressed in tattered linen clothes that looked like they’d unravel into ragged strips of fabric with just a tug. Each rider was filthy, as if they hadn’t bathed in a year. Their faces were completely wrapped in headscarves, revealing only two eerie white-pupiled eyes that stared coldly ahead. From the pallor of their exposed hands, they looked almost like members of the Blood Clan.

Their gear was minimal, limited to wrist guards, leg guards, and chest protectors. Each carried a scimitar that appeared incredibly sharp. The sword hilts were wrapped in black cloth strips so grimy they resembled rags—and they were sloppily wrapped at that.

An average person encountering such a cavalry might immediately assume they were bandits and bolt in the opposite direction. But Andrew did not. He noticed that the way this group was lined up suggested formal military training. They even carried banners.

The lead horseman, clad in a torn black robe, bore two triangular flags on his back. The flags were emblazoned with text Andrew couldn’t understand.

Andrew tightened the reins, bringing the wagon to a halt.

The cavalry ahead didn’t move either. They simply watched from afar, observing Andrew and Christina. The lead rider held his head high, peering down at the pair as if from a position of superiority. His coal-black horse shifted beneath him, stepping restlessly in place.

"Can you read what’s written on the flag?" Andrew asked Christina beside him.

"Nope," Christina shook her head.

And so, both sides stared at each other in silence.

After a long while, the lead rider on the black horse advanced. Pulling down the scarf from his face, he revealed a white beard, then shouted something at Andrew. When he realized Andrew didn’t understand, he switched to the common language of the continent and barked, "Who are you? Why are you here?"

Andrew stared at him blankly.

Before Andrew could figure out how to reply, the man had already drawn the scimitar from his waist and shouted, "Answer me immediately!"

Has something happened in Udoven? That was Andrew’s first thought.

The aggressiveness of the situation... well, fine.

Helplessly, Andrew’s eyes flickered for a moment, and then he shouted back, "We’re heading to Linlopes!"

"We’re heading to Linlopes?" Christina asked, puzzled.

"Shh." Andrew quickly gestured for silence.

"Linlopes?" The man froze for a moment. "Linlopes isn’t in this direction—did you take a wrong turn?"

"I guess we must have. We lost our map—it was snatched by a wild wolf—and we got lost!" Andrew replied loudly.

"A wild wolf snatched your map?"

"It was a sheepskin map!"

At that, the group of cavalrymen burst into laughter.

The bearded leader seemed to relax as he sheathed his scimitar and rode closer to Andrew and Christina’s wagon.

As he approached, Andrew finally got a clear look at his face.

It was a face full of scars and deep pits, with pallid skin. A knife scar ran across his left eye, though it didn’t seem to impair his vision. Not that it made much difference—whether blind or sighted, their white pupils looked essentially the same.

This was a true "Barbarian Clan" member. Andrew had encountered such people before in Linlopes.

In fact, they were the dominant ethnicity in Lunbak. Even the Lunbak Royal Family was composed of such people. Linlopes, being relatively on the borderlands, wasn’t a favorite settlement for the Barbarian Clan, which is why they were less common there. Technically, they were human—just visually distinct from the average human.

"Lower your head. Don’t let him see your face," Andrew whispered.

Christina hurriedly pulled her cloak tighter, lowering her hood as much as possible.

With a sway of his horse, the bearded man approached Andrew and drew his scimitar again. He lifted the wagon’s canopy with the blade, inspecting its contents. Then, he stabbed several times into the cargo to make sure no one else was hidden inside before finally putting the weapon away again. With a sigh, he said, "Turn back. You’re completely off track. I can’t believe anyone would wander into a place like this by mistake."

"Turn back?" Andrew feigned a puzzled expression.

"Head back this way for half a month, and you’ll reach Linlopes," the man said.

"But that’s the direction we came from."

"Exactly, you idiot. Now go back." With those words, the bearded rider turned his horse around.

"No, we can’t go back. Behind us is just desert. We’ve already traveled for days. We need water, food, and supplies. Can you spare some for us?"

"No." The bearded rider had already begun galloping back, shouting as he went, "This area is sealed off. No one is allowed through—no one, including you!"

As the bearded rider retreated, the rest of the cavalry followed, though two riders remained behind, seemingly intending to wait until Andrew and Christina left before departing themselves.

With no other option, Andrew clumsily turned the wagon around and began heading back.

"Are we really going back to Linlopes?" Christina asked.

"Of course not."

Andrew cautiously craned his neck to look back. After confirming that the remaining two cavalrymen had also left, he stopped the wagon and said, "Something must’ve happened in Udoven, but we still have to go there. Of course, we’ll have to wait until night. I have no intention of retracing our steps. If their defenses are strict, all the better—it’ll make it harder for that golden dragon to find us in Udoven."

Christina blinked at him, as if trying to process his words.

After thinking it over, Andrew added, "Still, sneaking past them might not be realistic. The journey’s too long; we’re over a day’s travel away from Udoven. The desert is too open, too exposed—it’s easy to be spotted. If their troops are deployed everywhere, we’ll be discovered for sure."