The night once again oppressively shrouded the wilderness.

After several days of tense trekking, the team led by Jeming had set up a temporary camp, deep in the wilderness, hundreds of miles away from Golden Harbor.

The air was filled with the metallic scent of soil, the burnt fragrance of campfire wood, and a faint, lingering scent of blood.

Jeming showed no signs of fatigue and, together with General Brandon, had surveyed every possible campsite before sunset, finally choosing an open area backed by a small hill, slightly elevated and easy to defend.

The carriages were ordered to form a circle, creating a simple defensive structure to protect the nobles in the center of the camp.

Campfires crackled throughout the camp, their flickering lights casting the tired and anxious faces of the nobles in shifting shadows.

They were currently huddled inside their carriages or by the campfires, and even though they were dressed in splendid robes, they couldn't hide the disheveled and frustrated aura around them.

Count Reinhart, a once respected elder noble, was sitting by a crude campfire, struggling to cut a piece of roasted meat with his silver tableware.

His complexion was pale, his eyes filled with worry for the future.

Beside him, Baron Fabio's plump body was almost buried in a simple animal-skin cushion, and with his chubby fingers, he nervously rubbed a worn medallion tied around his waist.

General Brandon sat alone, holding a short sword polished to an unusual brightness, his eyes sharp yet frequently glancing towards the direction of the Royal Capital, his brows furrowed.

"Count, although Lord Jack is invincible, the Beastmen and Magical Beasts in this wilderness are nothing more than chickens and dogs before him…" Baron Fabio lowered his voice, almost whispering into Count Reinhart's ear, his fat-laden face filled with anxiety.

"But upon arriving at the Royal Capital… that distant cousin of mine from the collateral branch has long coveted my title and the industries in Golden Harbor. Now with our territory lost, leaving only these family assets, I fear those from the Royal Capital's family will not easily spare us…"

Count Reinhart paused his actions and softly sighed.

He understood the darkness and brutality of the Royal Capital's noble circles better than Baron Fabio.

His weather-beaten face revealed a few hints of a bitter smile: "Not just titles and industries, Fabio. My grandchildren have been openly and secretly fighting over family inheritance rights. Now, with the family suffering heavy losses, if we elders were to 'accidentally' die on the way, those collateral branches and younger generations could justifiably divide all our inheritance."

General Brandon, overhearing their conversation, couldn't help but interject: "Count Reinhart is absolutely right. My useless nephew has been eyeing my military authority for a long time. Given his character, he might even collude with outsiders or create an 'accident' for an open and legitimate claim to inheritance. The noble circles in the Royal Capital are far more treacherous than the wolves and leopards of this wilderness."

A trace of an imperceptible chill flashed in his eyes.

Baron Fabio was so frightened he shivered, his bulky body involuntarily inching closer to the campfire: "Heavens, General! Are you saying… they might send someone to ambush us on the road?"

General Brandon didn't directly answer, merely giving a cold glance at the scattered nobles in the distance.

As nobles themselves, they were acutely aware of just how dirty things could get under a noble's command.

In this perilous wilderness, that fear was amplified infinitely.

Once lofty rulers were now like a flock of helpless lambs.

Their voices were lowered, filled with a frenzy for power and money.

Meanwhile, in an unremarkable tent at the corner of the camp, Jeming had not gone to sleep.

He sat cross-legged, using the Eye of Scouting to take in everything happening in the camp.

The nobles' whispered conversations, their fears, worries, and subtle suspicions were all transformed into auras of the red dust, silently absorbed by the talisman in his Dantian.

"They make for decent samples indeed." Jeming chuckled softly.

He knew that these nobles were filled with dread of his formidable power, yet they were utterly reliant on and fearful of him because of it.

This contradictory mindset was precisely the "sample" he needed.

He no longer paid attention to the nobles' murmurs but turned his focus to another matter.

He had previously summoned a few mercenaries who had behaved relatively cunningly during the day and had developed a sense of awe toward him.

These individuals, compared to the soldiers, showed greater recognition of the power's efficacy, at least abiding by his orders as long as no larger interests came into play.

Having traveled for several days, the surroundings had moved out of the main sweep range of the Beastman army, beginning to show signs of populated towns and villages.

However, these villages were too conspicuous as targets, so the nobles preferred to endure worse conditions by camping outdoors.

Jeming instructed them on a simple task: gather intelligence and information from the surrounding villages.

Although there was the Eye of Scouting, Jeming was not very clear about front-line intelligence or the conditions of the surrounding towns. Therefore, it was essential to gather relevant information at least to avoid foolishly stumbling into towns controlled by Beastmen.

Several hours later, at the darkest moment of the night, just before dawn, the mercenary captain returned to the camp, gasping for breath.

"My lord! I've gathered the information!" The captain knelt outside Jeming's tent, his voice trembling uncontrollably. "The Beastman army is indeed assembling. With the supplies transported through Golden Harbor, their vanguard forces have already gathered in several towns north of the Royal Capital, and they could launch a large-scale offensive at any moment!"

Jeming nodded calmly; the Beastmen's actions did not exceed his expectations too much, and he gestured for the captain to continue.

"Nothing too specific beyond that, but... there's also a rumor about those Foreign Demons." The mercenary captain's tone was somewhat conflicted.

"Oh? What rumor?" Jeming was intrigued at the mention of wizards.

The mercenary captain took a deep breath: "Last month, multiple kingdoms joined forces to kill a powerful Foreign Demon named 'David'! It is said that this wizard wielded extraordinary power, having destroyed several Beastman tribes soon after descending into this world a few months ago. He later ventured into the territory of the Elves, where no one could defeat him! If it hadn't been for... if not for the Divine Spirit's manifestation, combined with the valiant warriors from various kingdoms who disregarded their own lives, it would have been impossible to eliminate him!"

The mercenary captain's eyes carried the excitement of gossip: "My lord, you don't know! People in the taverns say that the great battle was like the heavens collapsing! They say that even space was torn apart, countless mountains turned to powder, and rivers changed their course! After that wizard David died, his soul even transformed into a vengeful wraith, cursing many of the nobles and priests who besieged him, causing them to contract strange illnesses and eventually meet a tragic end!"

On the surface, Jeming appeared to be listening with interest, but inside, he felt a heavy jolt.

"David?"

There were many wizards named David, but if we were talking about the most famous "David" among the wizards who had just recently descended, it would probably be that genius from the First Nolun Academy of the Tenth Level.

He dismissed the mercenary captain and fell into deep thought alone.

"Divine Spirit's manifestation... does it refer to something like an angel? If it's a Third Level Creatures leading a group of Second Level Creatures in a siege, it's indeed possible to take down that genius."

As a Tenth Level genius, David's trump cards would definitely not be much weaker than his own.

But much like the problems Jeming himself had encountered in the past, if a Third Level Creatures led the charge, it was highly likely that the opponent would be eliminated before they could even reveal their trump cards.

"No, that's not right. Based on the rumors, it seems like both sides went through a major battle. However..."

Jeming couldn't help but search his memory, recalling the last contribution leaderboard.

In these two months of hiding and conducting research in Golden Harbor, the contribution leaderboard continued to be updated on schedule.

His ranking had slipped down two spots due to a lack of contributions in these two months, and he had now fallen to the sixth position.

However, the growth of contributions from other wizards had also begun to slow down, suggesting that they, too, were entering a hibernation phase.

"David..."

Jeming quickly flipped through the changes in David's position on the earlier pages of the contribution board.

Initially, David had consistently been in the top three positions on the contribution board.

But by the second month, his contribution ranking had slipped, and at his lowest point, he had fallen to fifth place, indicating a slowdown in the growth of contribution points.

It seemed that he must have completely eradicated the nearby Beastman tribes, leaving no prey, which is likely when he shifted his operations to the Elf Kingdom.

Upon reaching the Elf Kingdom, he must have encountered numerous enemies, as his contribution points soared and his rank climbed back into the top three.

"And then last month... David's rank shot straight to first place, suggesting that he must have experienced a major battle."

Jeming's fingers trembled subconsciously: "It seems David really was killed... not necessarily, this only suggests that he experienced a major battle last month; it doesn't mean that the person who died was him. It's still necessary to observe the changes in this month's contribution leaderboard..."

Despite saying this, Jeming knew deep down that if David had indeed undergone such an assault, the likelihood of his death in the event of bad luck was very high.

"Could such a massive loss be caused by just an incomplete plane war? As a Tenth Level genius, was it really possible for David to die so easily? Wizards are intelligent people; they surely wouldn't select such a reckless fool as an heir?"

Jeming appeared as if he were lost in solemn contemplation, but in his mind, thoughts swirled incessantly.

Finally, he let out a long sigh: "Forget it; pondering these matters now is pointless. It's better to wait until reaching the Royal Capital to try and find more specific information."

Temporarily setting these thoughts aside, Jeming sat cross-legged on the ground to meditate before dawn.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.