Chapter 122: Chapter 121: Yet There Is a Giant Dragon in the Lair
By the Bengyong River, a patch of reeds as dense as a forest had been trampled flat. Seven Bed Crossbows, each weighing over a thousand pounds, gleamed with a unique metallic luster as the Giants loaded them onto the carts one by one.
After the first Bed Crossbow was fitted with a Bowstring, the Lord personally test-fired it. The results were far better than he’d imagined.
Its maximum range reached over sixteen hundred paces. Within twelve hundred paces, it could still pierce Iron Armor, and its effective accuracy reached a terrifying eight hundred paces.
In other words, within a range of eight hundred paces, the trajectory of a bolt fired from the Bed Crossbow would hardly deviate.
To speed up their advance, the Lord stored the Barbarians’ Armor in his System Space. They would retrieve and don it upon reaching their destination.
As for the Bed Crossbows, Levi had also wanted to store them in his space, but unexpectedly, the contraptions were outside the System’s inventory limits. ’They’re probably either too big or too heavy,’ he mused.
He could only have the Giants take the place of horses, pulling the carts forward in harnesses.
Once the convoy was assembled, the wheels began to roll forward.
This time, in addition to the fifty Beastman Guards and the seven cart-pulling Giants, Levi also brought along Zat, Orak, and Hog.
Hog could serve as a Scout up ahead, constantly monitoring the situation. As for Orak, although the Shaman’s Witchcraft was limited to self-enhancement, it might prove surprisingly useful at a critical moment.
The overgrown prairie grass of the Wilderness constantly got tangled in the wheels. If they were using horses, they would have to stop and clean the wheel hubs every so often.
But with the Giants pulling, their sliver of Giant blood gave them innate, boundless strength. They could keep dragging the carts forward even if the wheels became completely jammed.
These carts, standing just over 1.5 Blades high and measuring no more than three Blades in length or width, were like toy cars to the Giants, who were over four Blades tall.
With them pulling the carts, the convoy’s speed increased immediately.
The more time they wasted, the greater the chance of an unforeseen incident. Thus, to go even faster, a piece of meat on a string was dangled in front of each Giant.
Whichever Giant was faster would get to eat the meat. This motivated them to pull even harder, straining with all their ox-like strength.
With the HUFFING and PUFFING of the pulling Giants, the party’s pace suddenly quickened.
According to the few prisoners of war captured to serve as guides, their journey south from the Giant Dragon’s lair had taken them more than ten days.
However, that couldn’t be used as a reliable benchmark.
Their party had numbered around four thousand, so their pace must have been slow. Not to mention, they hadn’t just been focused on traveling; they stopped to conquer and absorb any tribes they encountered along the way.
This had prolonged their journey considerably.
After half a day of the wheels crushing green grass, the number of aimlessly wandering bandits visibly increased. They were approaching the depths of the Wilderness, where all traces of civilization disappeared.
Burning, killing, and pillaging were rampant. Skirmishes between small bands of bandits—some with a few members, others with dozens—were a common sight.
They were all heading south, out from the depths of the Wilderness—the complete opposite direction of the northbound party from High Cliff Castle.
However, no one was foolish enough to provoke the High Cliff Castle convoy. It was obvious to any observer that they were not to be trifled with.
They traveled nonstop until evening. Even the Giants, despite their abundant stamina and immense strength, were starting to breathe heavily.
The party took a short break by a small river, planning to rest for a while before setting out again under the moonlight.
Finally able to rest, the Giants flopped down by the riverbank and began gulping down the cool water, looking as if they intended to drink the little stream—barely two Blades wide—completely dry.
The Beastmen skillfully lit a bonfire, set up a cooking rack, and tossed dried meat and rations into a large cauldron to stew into a thick mush.
"Orak, have you ever heard of a tribe called the Kexianri?"
The Lord drank his mush, completely unconcerned with his image, and made small talk while he had the chance.
Half a month ago, the number of bandits drifting south had started to increase. He’d learned from Knight Si Kai of the Secret Silver Commerce Association that a large tribe was migrating south, forcing all the other native peoples to flee south as well just to survive.
However, with the Giant Dragon Corps facing off against High Cliff Castle, the Lord had had no time to spare for other matters.
Now, as they hurried north, he could witness the impact of this great southern migration firsthand.
It seemed they couldn’t travel far without encountering small tribes in the midst of a full-scale migration.
Before nightfall, they had come face-to-face with a party of about a hundred Goat-men. The sight of the ferocious High Cliff Castle Barbarians terrified the weak Goat-men, who immediately fell to the ground in prostration.
The Lord, for his part, offered them a way out. He told them he had a domain in the south called High Cliff Castle where, out of the goodness of his heart, he would provide food and shelter. All they had to do in return was a little labor.
The Goat-men collectively breathed a sigh of relief. They had thought "providing food and shelter" meant that half of them would be chopped up to feed the other half.
For a people with no other options, exchanging labor for survival was a stroke of luck in its own right.
These Goat-men were generally only about 1.6 or 1.7 Blades tall, with thin frames and no combat prowess.
They usually survived by serving as Vassals to more powerful Races, performing menial labor.
That’s why, if put to work as farmers, they wouldn’t do things like secretly eat the seeds.
This was why the Lord was willing to accept them. It had absolutely nothing to do with the dozen or so young Goat-man maidens in their group.
High Cliff Castle truly couldn’t afford to take on warrior Races like the Lizardmen or the Leopard-headed People, as its number of full-time soldiers was already at the maximum limit it could support.
However, taking them on as simple labor slaves was no problem at all.
