The Cornflower Witch Book 2: Chapter 141: Not an Unexpected Accident

Vol 2 Chapter 141: Not an Unexpected Accident

Riding on horseback, Sylutia and Karen rode side by side, talking about old tis while discussing the recent situation.

“I left Scorchstone City a long ti ago, I only went back occasionally these past years,” Karen said, ntioning recent events.

“But judging by your looks, Tia, you seem short on hands lately. Do you want to help?”

Riding with them was a caravan of about a hundred people, including mbers of the Oak Barrel trading guild from Scorchstone City and a small number of Anty people.

It made sense that Oak Barrel mbers followed Sylutia, but seeing so Anty people with them surprised the others.

In fact, the Anty army was not a monolith; it contained different factions. The group in Scorchstone City were mostly fringe elents. Many of them were ordinary people from the Kingdom of Ante; they didn’t have a strong desire for killing, they just wanted a safe life.

If they stayed in Valley City, who knew when Carkis might drag them off to fight and they’d die sowhere. Staying in Scorchstone City as garrison soldiers was much safer. Besides, they had more acquaintances and friends there and felt more comfortable.

Hearing Karen’s offer, Sylutia considered it, then looked up and replied.

“Then I’ll ask Sister Karen to teach so of them archery and hunting.” If those refugees wanted to live hidden lives for a long ti, the more survival skills they had, the better.

“No problem.” Karen responded with a smile.

While the two rode and chatted, at the rear of the caravan Haines and his nephew sat in the back of a baggage carriage talking.

“So it was you who begged that gentleman to intervene,” Haines said, ruffling the young man’s hair.

“Stop that, uncle,” the young man ducked and covered his head, then answered with excitent and gratitude.

“I didn’t have much hope at the ti, but if I didn’t try, you might’ve died in that dungeon.”

“If you were gone, who would bring gifts and tell stories?”

“Ha, you brat.” Haines ruffled him again, then looked up at the azure sky.

“The air out here is wonderful, and the sky’s so beautiful,” he said, slowly closing his eyes to feel the breeze at his ear, relaxed and content.

“Those dark days in the dungeon really drain you. If you experience it once, you never want a second ti. For many years after, you’ll have nightmares,” he said with feeling.

“Death is just a mont, but being trapped in a hopeless place, watching yourself rot, deform, lose your face, being bitten by lice — that sensation, ugh.” He didn’t want to dwell on it.

“It’s wonderful to sit here and still be able to talk with you.”

“Uncle,” the young man patted Haines on the back.

“It’s okay, it’s all over now.” Haines opened his eyes.

“I’ll owe you one from now on, haha.”

“My identity now makes it difficult to go into Scorchstone City for a while. That gentleman arranged a place for .”

“Don’t worry, as long as we’re alive, we’ll have plenty of chances to et.”

Hooves stepped over dew-soaked grass, following the winding mountain path. Three days later the caravan finally returned to Scorchstone City.

“I won’t enter the city. Give my regards to Lady Polia.” Sylutia stood before the caravan leader to say goodbye.

“I’ll tell my mother.” The mustached rchant doffed his hat in salute.

“This trip delayed you all. It was supposed to be a week or two, but dragged on for nearly two months.”

“I brought so tea I grew myself, hope you and Lady Polia like it.” Sylutia produced three boxes of White Callia tea and gifted them.

“...This—” The rchant, upon taking the boxes, realized they were a Second Tier rare grade and was especially surprised.

“It’s nothing, just take them.” Sylutia blinked her blue eyes.

“I have plenty more, don’t forget my profession.”

“Thank you, Lady Tia.” He carefully put them away.

“These days Regas may not be peaceful. Try not to get involved in the wars.” The girl warned.

“My family understands.” He nodded.

“If you hit an insurmountable crisis, take this letter and go to the mountain range east of Regas. There’s a Hidden Grove outpost stationed there where you can seek refuge.” Sylutia handed over an envelope.

“Thank you, Lady Tia.” He was grateful.

Having experienced Scorchstone City’s change of hands, even a noble like Viscount Xuefeng nearly couldn’t escape. Small rchant guilds like his had even less capacity to resist.

Sylutia’s letter might be useless most tis, but in an extrely dire mont it could be the last lifeline to save a family.

“Please don’t hesitate to contact if you need anything later.” He thought a mont, then produced a small seal and handed it to Sylutia.

“Our guild is small, but we have branches in several cities in southern Regas; we can help with small favors.”

“All right.” Sylutia accepted the seal, then waved farewell to the caravan mbers.

…

The caravan slowly departed toward Scorchstone City, and only a handful of five people remained beside Sylutia. Aside from her and Karen, there were Haines and two prisoners who had also escaped the dungeon.

“Let’s go to the place where those people are hiding.” Sylutia turned her horse, the others falling in behind.

“What’s your na? You can tell .” Sylutia asked the ragged prisoner.

Hearing the question, he hurried to spur his horse, though his riding skills were poor and the horse couldn’t run fast.

Seeing this, Sylutia lightly flicked her wrist, a faint floral fragrance wafted out, calming the anxious, directionless horse and causing it to trot obediently toward her.

At last he caught up to Sylutia’s pace and answered.

“My na is Morris, I’m from... Breezewind Town.” Saying the na seed awkward for him, as if it had been a long ti since he’d spoken it.

“Around age twenty-two, I found a booklet about mysterious knowledge and was drawn to it.”

“Later I began trying its secret rites and rituals, but I had no experience and no guidance, so I clumsily experinted on my own.”

“The townsfolk thought I was mad and my family drove out,” he said, his tone smoothing out.

“Afterward I drifted around, looking for work in different cities, trying to learn more secret knowledge, buying and collecting materials for rituals to test.”

“Until one day patrols found . They said I was a cultist and tried to arrest .”

“Afraid of execution, I fled and used what I had learned to disturb their perception and escape.”

“From then on I was even more determined, constantly seeking people to talk to and learn from.”

“Most who would deal with were lowly figures, all with incomplete knowledge, so every exchange felt like opening a prize — thrilling and full of expectation.”

“Gradually I gathered the ritual materials and then gained extraordinarily strong power.” He peeled off his coat to reveal a massive left arm. The limb looked mismatched with the rest of his body, noticeably stronger and reddish in hue.

“This... should be the minotaur branch’s savage Great Strength?” Sylutia looked at the arm in surprise.

Human and beast bloodlines don’t mix easily; humans could not naturally inherit the strength that multiplies power severalfold. Such a talent is impossible for humans.

“It’s a minotaur talent? No wonder I started liking vegetables,” he rubbed his hair.

“You must have perford a remarkable ritual.”

Sylutia recalled that grafting bloodline strength by ritual is basically taboo—the uncontrollable factors are too many and extrely unstable. No major organization treats such secret arts as core anymore; only a few individuals still research them.

For this prisoner to succeed at such a ritual with poor foundational knowledge of Secret History Knowledge, he had to be very lucky.

“Later I learned a fragnted ditation thod called mory Maze. It digs up forgotten secrets and details from one’s mories to strengthen self-understanding and ntal control,” Morris continued.

No wonder he rembered so many details. Sylutia nodded, then realized she herself had forgotten mories and could use this ability.

“Can you teach this ditation? I can teach you so knowledge in return.” Sylutia offered.

“Of course, I can pass on everything I learned to you, Lady.” He spoke proudly, as if his years of learning finally had value.

Seeing his shabby appearance, Sylutia asked another question, “How long were you in the dungeon?”

“Almost ten years.” His voice instantly dropped.

“Ten years.” The girl was surprised and felt so pity for the prisoner, understanding why he craved freedom so much.

Sylutia also realized that surviving ten years in that environnt ant remarkable willpower. In the dungeon you might not die imdiately, but prolonged, unchanging darkness can cause extre depression.

“There must’ve been many things you wanted to do that kept you going these ten years,” Sylutia said gently. Her words pierced his ingratiating smile like a warm arrow; he froze, stunned.

“I, I...” He lowered his head.

“I desperately wanted to see the world. There are so many wondrous rituals, secret thods, histories, amazing people and events, yet I could only touch a bit of it.”

He was of low birth and had no guide; he scavenged fragnts of secret knowledge in gutters. Even if fortunate enough to gain sothing, his strange behavior made people brand him a cultist and arrest him.

Sylutia, listening ahead, felt touched and recalled her own past regrets—many experiences left unexplored.

“It’s okay, you’ll have access to them later.” Sylutia said.

“By the way, I have an old notebook I can lend you.” The basics Scholar Hyde taught her were already well morized; she didn’t need to review them.

They rode through the woods toward Sylutia’s previously prepared hideout.

When they were still several hundred ters away, Sylutia’s expression changed. She increased her speed and dashed toward the hiding place deep within the forest.

Riding swiftly and using expert horsemanship to avoid and leap over obstacles, Sylutia reached the settlent quickly, but it was in disarray, with a lot of blood still on the ground.

She scanned the area and found several corpses in a corner. One person still had a faint pulse.

Sylutia quickly dismounted, went to the person, helped him up. He had a deep wound from a short bladed knife at the shoulder and was still bleeding.

She applied herbs to staunch the blood and poured a dose of Blood Healing Potion into his mouth.

Not long after, the unconscious man slowly woke and struggled to explain what had happened when he saw Sylutia.

“People in dark red robes found our camp. They want us to pledge allegiance and use this place as their base.”

“So of us resisted and drove them off at first, but two days later a group returned.”

“I couldn’t beat them. My companions were taken.” After speaking he seed to exhaust his strength and slipped back toward unconsciousness.

Sylutia could only set him down, feed him an Orchid Fragrance Healing Potion, and leave so food and water. Then she stood and searched the stronghold again.

Unfortunately there were no other survivors; the attackers had likely searched through. If it weren’t for the severely wounded man being ignored, there might have been no one left to report to Sylutia.

Minutes later Karen and Haines arrived. Seeing the chaos, they knew sothing had gone terribly wrong.

“Tia.” Karen ca to Sylutia’s side.

“All who lived here were taken.” Sylutia’s emotions cald sowhat as she explained.

“Haines, you and the two of them stay here. Karen and I will track them. They probably haven’t gone far.”

Considering her speed and the others’ physical conditions, only Karen could barely keep up.

“We understand.” Haines nodded and called to Reiz and Morris.

“We’ll tidy up here, care for the wounded, and wait for Lady Tia to return.” The two agreed.

Satisfied, Sylutia didn’t stay. She and Karen spurred their horses and charged out of the forest, Sylutia stretching her senses to full.

The girl’s normally blue eyes slowly took on a green tint until both eyes glowed shifting erald. The flora in her vision displayed a magnificent, ever-changing spectrum; from those thousands of colors Sylutia read subtle information about nature.

A distinct horse-and-rider trail erged clearly in her mind.

This way, she thought. She glanced at Karen; a single look conveyed everything and Karen understood, spurring to follow.

Hooves rose, clearing waist-high brambles, racing along the path Sylutia saw in her mind, their forms like lightning.

Riding through patches of woods and grasslands, Sylutia’s thoughts raced as she pressed onward.

Was this an accident? Of all things, it was the unsettling cultists who found the place.

She had no wish to be entangled in Regas’s internal power struggles; she only wanted to protect those who had helped her.

For months she had been avoiding direct conflicts between these two forces because she did not belong here and would leave sooner or later.

But reality is not resolved by simple avoidance.

As Scholar Hyde once taught her, many events in this world are intimately connected to us; everything follows threads and strings of connection.

The place she chose was suitable for hiding, and cultists specifically need such locations. As long as the Hundred-Eyes Sect still existed, when they were in hiding they would certainly search for places like this.

The seeds of this outco were quietly planted when she chose the location.