After Duke deduced this information, he roughly understood the operating mode of this plane.

He increasingly felt the power of this plane, and it seemed that the top experts of this plane were not simple. Even if the Four Great Wizard Organizations joined forces, it would probably take considerable effort to conquer this place.

Duke lay in the gently swaying carriage, the piece of dry grass in his mouth swaying softly with the jostle of the vehicle.

The afterglow of the setting sun slanted through the open door of the carriage, casting distinct lines of light and shadow on his face, dyeing one half with a warm golden red, while the other half remained hidden in the shadows of the carriage, appearing profound and serene.

Outside the window, the wasteland was painted into a magnificent and desolate canvas by the sunset.

Golden-red light spilled over the severely weathered giant hills, casting long and twisted shadows from the jagged boulders.

The road wound through the hills, becoming increasingly narrow and winding, while the steep rock walls on either side seemed ready to crash down at any moment.

This place was a natural breeding ground for ambushes, with an intangible tension permeating the air.

The merchant caravan advanced through the severely weathered hilly area, the road becoming narrow and winding, with jagged boulders, providing a natural site for ambushes.

The guards noticeably heightened their vigilance, no longer engaging in previous idle chatter, their sharp gazes sweeping over the rock crevices and the withered bushes on both sides.

Each passage through such terrain meant the risk multiplied.

The experienced driver also slowed the pace, tightly reining in the somewhat restless pack animals.

Hawke, the steward, rode back and forth in the middle of the team, wearing an unconcealed expression of worry.

It had been more than half a month since leaving Ximu Town, and people were becoming increasingly scarce. This place was at least a month's journey from Goose Peak Castle, lying in an awkward stretch of emptiness between settlements.

If they encountered a strong enemy here, rescue would be impossible, and the consequences would be unimaginable.

The long journey drained everyone's strength, with the workers showing clear signs of fatigue on their faces, and the guards' movements were no longer as nimble as initially, yet everyone gritted their teeth and persevered.

This life of eating and sleeping in the open, on constant alert, had long become ingrained in the bones of these people walking the dangerous merchant routes for a living.

For the sake of livelihood, for family, they had to keep going, no matter how hard or tiring it was.

The monotonous crunch of wheels over gravel mixed with the heavy panting of beasts of burden formed the background noise for this weary caravan.

Life in a trading caravan was thus arduous, and the people inside were long accustomed to such a lifestyle.

Finn and Bal were stationed at the rearmost and foremost part of the caravan respectively, both cautious and carefully observing their surroundings.

Finn rode on a pack animal, his eyes slightly closed, not resting but concentrating entirely on the wind perception ability he possessed.

Invisible perception spread out like a web, capturing the finest air disturbances, biological breaths, even the sound of gravel rolling in the rock crevices.

Bal, on the other hand, was like a moving iron tower, closely following the steward Hawke, with a giant tower shield strapped to his back but his sturdy arms ready to lift it at any moment.

His steady gaze swept across the towering rock walls on either side, muscles subtly tensing under the leather armor, like a beast poised to strike.

They had already entered the activity area of the Gray Forest Thieves and might encounter this bandit force.

The Gray Forest Thieves were a newly emerged bandit force with hundreds of robust handymen under their command.

More importantly, their leader was a powerful Level One Awakened named Marcus.

Marcus was reportedly wanted in other city-states, fleeing to the Leighton Clan's territory after being hunted down. There, he used his immense strength to establish the Gray Forest Thieves.

Since their area of operation was right by a trade route, they've grown powerful by plundering for over three years now, feeding themselves heartily on their spoils.

No merchant caravan passing this route dared to feel safe. They had no better options; this was the only trade route, and they had to pass through here.

The merchants could only pray they wouldn't be unlucky. If they happened to run into the Gray Forest Thieves on a raid, they'd have to accept their bad luck.

The region was vast and remote, so the probability of running into the Gray Forest Thieves was relatively low.

When passing through here, trading caravans generally don't stop, pushing on even at night, just to quickly leave this area.

Hawke's face was grim. The last time he passed through here, he was lucky not to have encountered the Gray Forest Thieves. He didn't know if he'd have the same luck this time.

The road ahead turned around a massive bend, where the rock walls on either side formed a narrow bottleneck, allowing barely two carriages to travel side by side.

The glow of the setting sun was blocked by the towering rock walls, plunging this stretch of road into premature darkness.

Just as the vanguard of the caravan was about to pass through this bottleneck, a dense whistling like the whisper of death shot out from the tops and mid-fissures of the rock walls on either side and from behind the massive stones ahead.

Screams and the painful neighing of pack animals exploded suddenly; several robust draft horses were pierced through neck or abdomen by strong arrows, crying out in agony as they collapsed, dragging the heavy carts into a tilt.

Bal roared, slamming his massive tower shield down in front of him with a boom, a dull yellow glow instantly brightening, enveloping him and nearby caravan members.

Several arrows aimed at them collided with the shield and the glow, producing dull thuds, astonishingly rebounding off forcefully.

The guards reacted with lightning speed, quickly taking cover behind the carriages. Except for a few unfortunate ones initially shot, no subsequent casualties occurred.

The terrain provided good ambush opportunities for the attackers but also offered the caravan ample cover space.

The view was narrow, and the area reachable by arrows was limited.

Soon, figures appeared in the rock walls on both sides, wearing various leather armor and armor, holding different weapons. They didn't continue attacking but howled to scare the caravan below.

These were clearly the Gray Forest Thieves active nearby, and the caravan had the bad luck of running into them on a hunting spree, thus becoming the prey.

With over a hundred people in the caravan, it wouldn't be easy for the Gray Forest Thieves to take them down forcefully, so their initial attack was more of a demonstration, pausing afterward, with the gleaming arrows still poised menacingly.

The steward, Hawke, took a few deep breaths and then stepped out from behind the carriage, with Bal closely following, ever ready to protect Hawke with the tower shield in his hands.

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