Facing an Ancient God for a Year - Chapter 1302: 1300: Rugged Road

Chapter 1302: Chapter 1300: Rugged Road

“I know it might be shocking, but unfortunately, we never promised what the destination would be.”

The mist churned like a waterfall, boundless and infinite, evoking an almost physiological fear of the unknown.

As Fu Qian admired the bizarre scenery, Lord Reginald beside him had visibly given up on expecting answers to his previous questions and changed the topic directly.

“Please step out of the carriage; we’ll need to continue the journey on foot from here.”

Without waiting for Fu Qian to respond, he gestured invitingly.

…

With a crisp sound, the carriage quickly turned away and sped off, almost like it was fleeing in panic.

After Fu Qian was the first to heed the call to disembark, Amila and her companion followed suit, their solemn forms moving in shadow.

As expected, Simon the Cult Hunter, who had claimed to hitch a ride, also climbed down, his gaze fixed firmly on Fu Qian, making no effort to conceal his intention of escort.

In fact, the other two mirrored this, instinctively forming an equilateral triangle centered around Fu Qian.

Under the scrutiny of six eyes, Fu Qian surveyed this corner that seemed perched at the edge of the world, deeply aware of the weight of his existence.

The direction where the carriage departed revealed a modest path—not wide, but clear and tranquil. Gazing along it, one could see Leytin basking in the morning light.

On the opposite end, however, loomed an impenetrable mist, unyielding even under the dawn’s rays, resembling primordial chaos.

That was, unmistakably, the path the group would take.

“Specifics will be explained upon reaching the destination. For now, how do you feel? Has the pure moonlight guiding you offered any insights?”

Perhaps as an odd concession, Lord Reginald allowed Fu Qian a few seconds to absorb the moment before speaking coolly, soliciting his thoughts.

Thɪṡ 𝗰h𝒶p𝖙ℯr 𝚒𝓈 pɵṡ𝓉℮ḍ bƴ Ḱ𝙞ṯ𝗲ɳο𝖛𝙚|

“I feel deeply comforted—my resolve has never been as firm as it is now.”

Fu Qian finally withdrew his gaze, his tone filled with profound sentiment.

“Comforted?”

This time even Amila frowned, studying him closely, seemingly trying to determine if he was feigning composure.

“Though I don’t entirely understand why you’ve brought me here, the world’s edge is right before us, and you still claim this isn’t a Nightmare?”

Fu Qian scoffed coldly, then strode forward as if seeking to embrace the chaotic mist.

The world’s edge… did he regard the mist as the boundary of the Dream?

This excessively fresh perspective undoubtedly left The Sect’s members deeply unsettled.

“Very well, welcome to the fringe of the Nightmare.”

At that moment, Lord Reginald finally seemed to recognize the invincibility of conviction, abandoning any effort to dispute Fu Qian’s perspective and simply moved to follow.

“I hope you can maintain your comfort.”

“Thank you for the blessing. I hope you can vanquish your fear.”

Fu Qian responded courteously.

“Fear?”

Reginald’s reaction to the word was visibly intense, immediately retorting in a cold voice.

“You claim no fear, and yet you persist in prattling?”

Fu Qian didn’t even glance back, stepping boldly as the first into the mist.

…

Reginald clearly wished to argue, but after a futile effort, he fell silent.

Every action has its motive; amidst an event of such gravity, Fu Qian did not believe that merely suppressing his brazenness could justify such a pointless conversation.

But pairing it with an attempt to regulate emotions seemed far more plausible.

And it wasn’t just Reginald alone. Wasn’t it evident that even the ever-dutiful Miss Amila hadn’t intervened earlier?

This exact moment was no exception.

The two silent officials soon faced the icy gaze of Simon’s shadowy eyes.

Simon, whose mental resistance was evidently stronger, seemed able to tolerate his two companions’ emotional adjustment, but his patience was clearly at its limit.

The next second, he advanced silently, keeping his distance from Fu Qian.

Reginald and Amila, too, finally abandoned any desire for rebuttal.

“Our destination is a small town southwest of here. No forks in the path—just follow it straightforwardly.”

Rushing to catch up and re-forming the triangular pattern, Amila explained their purpose to Fu Qian.

Perhaps as a way to dispel fear, her depiction was notably optimistic.

“It does sound simple.”

Fu Qian nodded without asking further, continuing to inspect his surroundings.

The group had fully entered the dense mist, and despite the proximity, the faces of the three companions were still indistinct.

“So are you planning to eat breakfast after reaching the town?”

…

Amila appeared uncertain how to respond.

“A small human settlement—that’s my definition of a town. Are you implying it might not even offer breakfast?”

Fu Qian looked puzzled.

“… You’ll find out when we arrive.”

Amila finally avoided providing a direct reply.

“I look forward to it.”

Fu Qian graciously refrained from pressing the matter, then slowed his pace. Under the trio’s watchful gaze, he slightly deviated from the path and moved to the roadside.

Ding!

With a flick of his finger through the mist, a metallic ring echoed sharply.

In the next moment, Fu Qian stooped down and pulled something from the ground.

It was an ornate rapier with an intricately gilded hilt, adorned with various gemstones now clouded with dust—still exuding elegance and unmistakably crafted by a master.

Yet here it was, impaled in the roadside dirt, its slender blade rusted and scarred by time.

“No wonder the carriage couldn’t continue forward.”

Returning and casually examining his find, Fu Qian wore an expression of sudden understanding.

“The road conditions here are indeed a bit poor.”

…

The trio displayed remarkable tolerance towards Fu Qian’s spontaneous actions; even Simon, the Cult Hunter, merely stood in place keeping his sharp gaze fixed on Fu Qian.

Though under this scrutiny, Fu Qian’s peculiar mindset once more succeeded in baffling them.

“Valuable, more ornamental than practical—finding something like this along the road is undeniably odd.”

Eventually, Amila mustered focus and supported the observation after examining it.

“It’s not beyond comprehension. Perhaps this gentleman, who hardly had the need for wielding a sword, encountered an unexpected situation where he was forced to fight—and ultimately failed.”

As Fu Qian gestured for them to move along, he casually remarked.

“So, what sort of unexpected situation do you imagine it was?”

This time it was Simon who spoke, his tone devoid of discernible emotion.

“Hard to say. But one thing is certain—the party responsible for the incident didn’t recognize the sword’s value.”

Fu Qian suddenly halted again, gazing deep into the mist toward the path ahead.

“Is something wrong?”

Unnoticed until now, Simon had already produced a broad sword with a practical design, pairing his inquiry with a palpable sense of threat.

“Yes.”

Fu Qian, without shifting his gaze, gave a definitive answer.

With a flash of rust, his exquisite prize was hurled away with nonchalance.