Chapter 242: Chapter 231: A Low-Key but Not-So-Low-Key Return

Grent Manor, in the office of the main house.

Rosalind was intently reviewing a report on the crystal procurement budget. Her silver-gray quill glided across the paper, leaving only sharp script and a subtle rustling sound.

Suddenly, her hand paused, the motion almost imperceptible.

A tremor, extremely subtle yet unbelievably clear, rippled through the depths of her soul without warning. It made her instinctively look to the southeast—the direction of Birch Town’s gate.

’He’s back.’

’My master... he’s back.’

The thought surfaced clearly in her mind.

That familiar ripple of his presence, the bond forged by the Soul Contract—there was no mistaking it.

And at the very same moment she perceived that tremor—

"RRRROOOOAR—!!!"

A low yet immensely powerful roar suddenly erupted from the rear courtyard, instantly shattering the manor’s tranquility!

The busy apprentices around the manor jumped in fright. Only the "old-timers" who had been at the manor the longest managed to remain relatively calm.

They knew it was the roar of the master’s mount, the manticore, Big Mimi.

But why would the big cat, usually so lazy and quiet, suddenly become so agitated?

’Could it be...’

Before they could give it much thought, the WHOOSH of rushing wind sounded as a massive, snow-white figure shot straight up into the sky from the rear courtyard, heading away from the manor.

But before it could fly beyond the manor grounds, Lady Rosadeline, usually so cool and elegant, rushed out of the main house in a hurry, shouting after it.

"Big Mimi! Stop!"

Her cool voice cut through the wind and snow, reaching the big cat’s ears with perfect clarity.

The manticore’s wingbeats faltered. It landed nimbly in an open space by the garden, its heavy body touching down with surprising lightness, making almost no sound.

It turned its head toward Rosalind, a flash of human-like confusion in its vertical, ice-blue pupils.

A questioning rumble gurgled in its throat, as if to ask, ’Why stop me? Master is back!’

Rosalind didn’t bother with an explanation, instead issuing a clearer command.

"Come here! Take me with you!"

Now more intelligent after its advancement, Big Mimi immediately understood that its kind caretaker wanted to see their master too.

So it obediently lowered its proud head.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Rosalind’s slender figure leaped forward, seemingly weightless. She landed precisely and steadily on Big Mimi’s broad, sturdy back.

She quickly adjusted her posture, her legs gently gripping the manticore’s firm back muscles. One hand instinctively grabbed its mane—as tough as steel needles—to keep her balance.

"Go!"

This time, with a clear command, Big Mimi could no longer contain its urgency. It let out another deafening, drawn-out roar!

"RRRAAAAAWRGH—!!!"

The roar spread out like a physical wave, shaking the accumulated snow from the manor’s rooftops and sending it sliding down with a soft RUSTLE.

Then, its massive wings snapped open to their full extent. With a powerful kick of its strong hind legs, the colossal beast launched itself into the air, carrying the silver-haired woman on its back toward the destination they both yearned for.

Down below in the manor, the Old Dwarf and the Elf stood together, watching the sky.

"That kid must be back. Otherwise, that girl wouldn’t lose her composure like that."

"Yes. I imagine he’s achieved his goal... and entered a new world..."

"Hmph... Isn’t that a good thing? Look at that long face of yours..."

"You don’t understand..."

Claudio watched Big Mimi and Rosalind’s receding figures, a complex emotion in his eyes, and murmured.

"You don’t understand..."

...

Jon’s carriage rolled over the last stretch of frozen, hard-packed mud outside Birch Town’s gate. Its wheels pressed clear ruts into the snow with a dull creak.

He sat on horseback, his gaze sweeping over the familiar, gray-stone city walls. The tension that had kept him on edge for days finally eased a fraction.

Ordinarily, two carriages loaded with valuable materials from the Demon Forest Ruins, well-disguised as they were, wouldn’t have drawn any attention. Such sights were common in Birch Town, especially with the frequent movement of wartime supplies.

The problem, however, was what followed the carriages: ten Scale Horses, their bodies covered in bronze scales and rippling with knotted muscle. Like beasts of burden, each one had a stark-naked, immobile man bound horizontally across its back.

The rough leather ropes cut deep into their flesh. Rags were stuffed in their mouths, reducing their cries to muffled grunts as they shivered in the cold wind.

The absurd spectacle instantly startled the guards at the city gate.

A few young recruits stared wide-eyed, instinctively tightening their grips on their spears. The veterans, meanwhile, tensed immediately, their gazes as sharp as a hawk’s.

A sharp whistle blew, shrill and urgent. The scattered guards quickly assembled into a semi-circular defensive formation, their spears angled forward.

"Halt! Who goes there? And what... are those things behind you?"

A guard who appeared to be a squad leader demanded, his fingers gripping the hilt of the sword at his waist. His suspicious gaze darted between Jon and the row of "human cargo."

Just then, a scarred veteran in the ranks squinted, carefully examining the tall, powerfully built, black-haired, blue-eyed figure in the lead. The suspicion on his face instantly melted into profound awe.

He jerked the squad leader’s arm and hissed urgently in a low voice.

"Cap! It’s Mr. Jon! Mr. Jon from the Giant God Workshop is back!"

The squad leader froze, then he too recognized Jon’s face, which had become rather famous in Birch Town.

The tension on his face vanished in an instant. He hurriedly straightened his posture and struck his chest with his right fist in a standard military salute.

"Mr. Jon! Welcome back! Please forgive my impertinence. I was merely doing my duty... It’s just..."

He pointed to the struggling figures on the backs of the Scale Horses, his tone filled with unconcealed confusion and awkwardness.

"What’s the story with... uh... this ’cargo’?"

The other guards exchanged glances, completely unable to comprehend the scene before them.

Jon reined in his horse, coming to a slow stop.

He tilted his head slightly, his ice-blue eyes glancing dispassionately over the captives, who were purple with cold. The corner of his mouth curled into a barely perceptible arc.

"Oh, them? They’re spies I caught on the road."

"Sp... spies?"

The squad leader was completely baffled, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.

He looked from the priceless Scale Horse mounts to the so-called "spies," who were stripped bare like lambs to the slaughter. His brain couldn’t quite process it.

’What kind of spies ride such conspicuous Scale Horses? And are so pale and well-built?’

’No matter how he looked at it, this looked more like some noble’s honor guard had run into some spectacularly bad luck.’

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask more—about their identities, what they had actually done, or about this bizarre way of handling things...

However, before he could get a word out, a sudden, violent whistling sound cut him off!

"WHOOOOSH—BOOM!!!"

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