Chapter 53: The South and the Warm-Up
At the border between the Central Plains and the South, there was a vast plain. Due to financial and resource limitations, there were no border fortresses here, only a pitch-black plain that seemed to have been scorched by a great fire.
On a withered tree, a breeze blew, causing the bodies of several hanged witches to sway slowly. Three male corpses were nailed to the trunk as well—these were Witch Hunters.
This withered tree served as the border marker. Beyond it lay the territory of the witches. The Central Plains and the West were under the control of the Holy Healing Church, the freezing North was ruled by the Northern King, the East belonged to the tribes and indigenous people, and the South was the Witch Kingdom.
The entire Dark Crow Continent was divided into three major regions: the Central Plains and the West formed one block, the North another, and the East and South together made up the third.
The barbarians in the East had no ruler at all. Conflicts frequently broke out between tribes, with small tribes constantly migrating. The North was too cold, so the Eastern savages wouldn't go there, which left the South, bordering the East, to suffer the consequences.
As the territory of the witches, the South's internal order was chaotic beyond imagination. The Moye Family held a high status in the South, but given the witches' unruly nature, the Moye Family couldn't possibly bring all witches under their command. This alone indicated the level of chaos in the South.
The East and South were adjacent regions with very similar environments, which made it possible for the primitive tribes of the East to flood into the South. The witches naturally welcomed this—they wouldn't easily set foot in the East, but they wouldn't refuse experimental materials that came to them willingly.
If the relationship between the Witch Kingdom in the South and the Holy Healing Church was one of mutual restraint, with neither side willing to dispatch a large army, then the relationship between the witches and the primitive tribes of the East was one of constant warfare.
More witches died at the hands of the primitive tribes than at the hands of Witch Hunters. This was a result of the regional environment. As for allying with the Eastern tribes to fight the witches, that was simply impossible.
Especially after Moye Nora scattered the witches, the number of primitive tribes from the East increased rapidly. They couldn't care less whether this was the Witch Kingdom or not; as long as it was suitable for them to live in, they would immediately occupy a piece of land and start developing.
It seemed like the Witch Kingdom in the South was being invaded, but that wasn't actually the case. Moye Nora was using this to make the witches encroach on the East, developing the untapped resources there. The recent acceleration of development in the South was due to this reason.
On the carriage, Su Xiao looked with confusion at the few natives ahead. The group had just entered the South, and instead of encountering witches, they were stopped by several savages with bare upper bodies covered in colorful graffiti. Judging by the expressions of those natives, they clearly intended to rob them. Of course, using Su Xiao and the others as lunch was also a possibility.
"Carmen, what's with these natives?"
Su Xiao didn't get off the carriage, only opening the door.
"Not sure. Looks like things have changed a lot in the South. Should we catch a few and interrogate them?"
"That would be a waste of time."
"True. Judging by their expressions, they seem to be planning to use us for lunch. Let's just kill them. Blood Bear, stop sleeping. A few tribal savages said you look like a stupid donkey."
"Bullshit! You can't even understand their language."
Blood Bear, who had been drowsy in front of the carriage, stood up. Beside him, Carmen laughed mischievously.
Blood Bear jumped off the carriage, bent down, and picked up a few pebbles from the ground. The tribal natives holding spears shouted loudly, and two of them even charged forward.
Bang! Bang!
Two pebbles flew out. The two charging tribal savages had their brains splattered and fell to the ground. Seeing this, the other natives turned and fled.
"These savages... are they all this spineless now? If this were a dozen years ago, they should have been howling and charging at us."
The one-eyed Blood Bear grinned, hard to imagine he was a revered Holy Councilor.
"Kill them all, to avoid attracting other trouble."
Carmen clearly hadn't been a good person in his youth either. His principle was: either don't kill and play the good guy, or kill them all, leaving no one behind.
The muscles on Blood Bear's arm bulged. After a few sharp sounds of breaking air, the natives who had run far away fell to the ground.
Melody, who had witnessed the entire scene, shrank her head. She had heard about how ruthless the previous generation of Witch Hunters could be.
After dealing with the few blocking tribal savages, the two carriages continued forward, gradually venturing deeper into the South.
...
At 10 PM that night, the night was pitch black. Two carriages were parked beside a campfire.
"Gunter, have you found out the situation with this witch gathering?"
Carmen sat in front of the fire, the flames making his hunched back more pronounced. Witch Grave Gunter was momentarily stunned.
"Found out. There are about twenty or so witches. This place is like a market where witches exchange items. The main commodity this time is a few savages. After all, humans are a scarce resource in the South."
Witch Grave had entered his element. His instinct for witch hunting had overcome his senility.
"Can we make a move tonight?"
Carmen's old face broke into a bright smile because his old partner, Witch Grave, had regained his former glory.
"Ninety percent chance of success."
"If you say ninety percent, then it's basically a sure thing."
The Drunkard gulped down a few mouthfuls of alcohol and stood up.
"Moving out now?"
Blood Bear's eyes seemed to gleam. It had been over a decade since he last killed a witch.
"Of course."
Carmen and the other three didn't call out to Su Xiao. The reason was simple: only about twenty witches, with the strongest being a Fourth Stage witch. If they couldn't even handle that, how could they talk about hunting down Doom?
The few old men walked toward the carriage to get their weapons. Carmen didn't move; his weapon was that walking stick.
The Apostle's Eye floated in mid-air. Su Xiao planned to watch how these old Witch Hunters hunted witches.
Twenty minutes later, in a wind-sheltered valley within a mountain hollow, there were dozens of wooden houses, some already collapsed, clearly not often inhabited.
This was a small market for the witches. Every late month, witches would come here to exchange items.
An ugly-looking chimera lay in the valley, surrounded by darkness. Its nose twitched, as if it had caught a scent.
Whoosh~
A crossbow bolt shot out from the darkness. Before the chimera could even roar, its central nervous system was severed. The deadly poison on the bolt quickly sent it into shock.
A dark figure flashed through the night, stopping in front of the chimera. He grabbed the chimera's paw pad and carefully felt it.
"Sharp teeth, hooked claws, rock ash on the fur. It's a Fourth Stage elemental type."
"Force them out."
Hearing this, the Drunkard untied the bundle on his back and took out two clay pots. Opening the pots, a white smoke drifted out. He was standing upwind.
Inside a wooden house, a witch with a face full of scars suddenly sat up. At that moment, a cold light flashed past her neck.
Carmen limped out of the wooden house. The Fourth Stage witch clutched her throat with both hands, and a green color visibly spread from the wound toward her head.
With a click, the whip-stick in Carmen's hand tightened, turning back into a walking stick.
A Fourth Stage witch wasn't weak, but she didn't even have a chance to use her avatar.
Five minutes later, with a crisp crack, Blood Bear snapped a witch's neck. The wooden door behind him was pushed open, and Witch Grave carried a witch out of the house.
Blazing flames spread through this market. The few old Witch Hunters walked out of the valley. Among them were a cripple, a drunkard, a one-eyed man, and even a senile old man, but they were experts at witch hunting—the most experienced Witch Hunters still alive in the world.
Behind a wooden house, a witch with eyes full of terror pressed tightly against the wall. Her body was somewhat translucent, and combined with the night, she was nearly invisible to the naked eye. This witch had been woken up by the need to urinate in the middle of the night, thus surviving the ordeal.
A dozen meters away, Witch Grave, who was about to walk out of the valley, sniffed and stopped. The old man's eyes were clearly of different sizes.
"There's the smell of a witch."
"No shit. Of course there's the smell of a witch here."
Blood Bear wiped the blood off his hands and strode toward the valley exit.
"No, I mean a living one."
Witch Grave turned his head, his wrinkled old face looking somewhat terrifying in the firelight.