Chapter 294: Patience Is for the Explosion (4K Bonus 90)

"I know you want to undergo trials and prove yourselves in dark places, but don't forget how dangerous this place is."

"This isn't the Mist Mountains—if you encounter danger and call for help, no one will arrive in time."

Herbert looked at the varied expressions of the group and said seriously:

"Don't count on me to protect you forever—I'm only one person, and I can't guarantee I'll reach each of you in time."

"What you need to rely on and trust is the companion beside you, and the strength you've earned through grueling training."

"Only by relying on yourselves is it true trial."

"Otherwise, you're just chicks sheltered under a female eagle's wings!"

After Herbert finished speaking, the group fell silent for a moment, each lost in thought about his words.

It was just a common, empty slogan, yet they couldn't help feeling—damn, he was right!

Yeah.

If we only depended on him, hadn't we never truly faced danger?

Seeing them lost in thought, their mood improving, Herbert decided to add more fuel.

Herbert spoke again, this time with even stronger encouragement in his voice.

"I know you hate the chains bound to your wrists, feel they're an insult, a desecration of warriors."

"But think carefully—is this truly a shackle to you?"

As he asked, Herbert also put on a pair of chains—thicker by a full circle than everyone else's.

Click.

After the clasp locked firmly, Herbert casually tossed the key to the ground.

Then, before the key even touched the earth, Herbert effortlessly exerted his hands—and shattered the chains in front of the stunned group.

Crack!

"…What?" A startled exclamation escaped the lips of nearly everyone.

How is this possible!

They knew Herbert was strong—one of the few among them who had reached the high tier.

And being appointed as their protector by the Rust Nail Bishop meant he must have some special qualities.

But they never imagined this boy, who looked refined and even somewhat frail and artistic, possessed such immense physical strength.

This power—this extraordinary physical condition—could a noble disciple really have this?

Shattering chains with bare hands—is that even something you're supposed to do?

That's what someone like Cyril, a brute, should do!

Indeed, Cyril was the most shocked among them.

Others didn't know how much force it took to shatter chains outright, but Cyril, born with supernatural strength and the son of a blacksmith, knew metal's properties best.

These chains, designed to prevent slaves from escaping, were all forged from premium cast iron—extremely hard!

Cyril's own chains were sturdy, but if he tried, he could snap them at a precise angle.

If he forced it, with effort and sacrifice, he could manage it—but his wrists would surely be injured and skinned.

But Herbert's chain… that color—clearly contained far rarer magical metals!

In strength, in resilience, it surpassed every other chain here.

Yet that chain, in Herbert's hands, didn't even last two seconds.

More than Herbert's strength, he was stunned by the strength of Herbert's wrists.

That pale, flawless wrist hadn't left a single mark—not even a scratch.

This, this can't be possible!!

Either the chain had been tampered with—just a fake, hollow shell.

Or Herbert's physical strength far exceeded even this alloy…

After observing their expressions, Herbert smiled satisfiedly and said: "These shackles can't hold a true blade, correct?"

He didn't wait for skeptical ones like Cyril to inspect them—he tossed the broken chains right before their eyes.

Clatter.

After casually doing this, he acted as if it meant nothing and continued loudly:

"You won't be bound by this common iron—not your body, not your soul, not your will!"

"Remember: temporary endurance isn't shame—it's all for better justice later."

"Remember: Mist Ghost Wolves only reveal themselves when tearing into prey."

"Now, we are the Mist Ghost Wolves hidden in the fog; those evil bastards are our prey."

As he grew impassioned, Herbert raised his right hand, clenched his four fingers tightly, then… lowered it slightly, gripped his fist hard against his chest, and pounded his own chest.

"Everything we do—every endurance, every restraint—is only to drive the blade deeper!"

"All of it—for justice!"

After delivering his fiery, impassioned speech, Herbert left the stunned group behind and turned away gracefully, returning to the carriage.

Inside the magically sealed private space, Herbert let out a faint sigh.

"Phew, almost did something I shouldn't have… Seriously, I didn't fail."

Herbert sighed, then plopped down into his rocking chair, swaying peacefully.

Dad's dad, what's he called? Dad's dad, he's Grandpa~

Creak, creak.

The carriage's interior had been enchanted by Svan妮 with special runes, expanding the space fourfold—enough for Herbert to move around freely.

Such a large space was perfect for hiding things that shouldn't be here—like—a luxurious bed big enough for four or five people to sleep on together.

But right now, that large bed was openly occupied by someone.

The vampire prince, having kicked off his shoes, had taken over the bed, lounging lazily atop it, his legs covered in white silk raised and swaying back and forth.

She glanced at Herbert—so imposing in public, yet a lazy slug behind closed doors—and sneered.

"Hmph, I think every word you just said is just an excuse to avoid responsibility."

"Hm?"

Herbert opened his eyes, looked at the female vampire lounging on the bed, raised an eyebrow, and smiled: "How so?"

Seeing Herbert showed no sign of anger, Elisa gained more confidence and snorted:

"You've given so many excuses, yet you're still planning to abandon them to do your own thing?"

"Since arriving at that previous city, you've effortlessly located those merchants and traded for these carriages and cages."

"Don't tell me you didn't plan this in advance—I won't believe you!"

After leaving the teleportation array, Herbert first told Cyril and the others to wait where they were, then brought the two demon girls to the gray district of the city.

Elisa, as his follower, had witnessed firsthand how Herbert skillfully negotiated with the high-ranking thief in charge, ultimately securing the entire slave caravan's equipment with nothing but a few names.

This guy had planned this all along!

"..."

After listening to Elisa's outburst, Svan妮, sitting in the corner of the carriage reading a book, lifted her gaze and gave her a long, deep look, then slightly shook her head.

What are you talking about?

He definitely had preparations ready.

He was assigned this mission to escort these people—he didn't suddenly decide to go to the Shadowlands.

In Svan妮 and the others' original plan, Herbert intended to use the slave channels extracted by Crete from the frost-crystal nobles' minds, posing as a wandering merchant to join the slave caravan and enter the Shadowlands.

Now, he's merely changed his identity—from follower to caravan owner—but fundamentally, it's no different.

"Haha, if you think that way, then I can't help it~"

Herbert chuckled, brushing it off with his usual low-blood-pressure excuse tactic.

Well, the situation is what it is—no need to hide it.

Herbert's current plan is simple: only one principle—the duty of a protector is to ensure these people don't die in the end, right?

Once they reach the vicinity of Maragas City, they'll dismiss Cyril and the others, letting them each go off to train (and have fun), while the three of them sneak into the city to assassinate Stila.

If everything goes smoothly, they can continue their role as protectors and leave with them…

If it doesn't go smoothly, well, that's fine too.

Even if their trail is discovered, they can deliberately reveal their identity as "Knights of the Mist Monastery," making pursuers believe they've encountered another group of idiots—holy knights come to "purify evil" in the Shadowlands.

Overall, though they've gained some troublesome followers, they've also gained an extra layer of security—useful decoys to share the risk.

The plan is ready; the first crucial step is to enter smoothly as slave merchants.

Also, Herbert had previously tried contacting the holy knight squad mentioned by Ash Bishop, leaving signals at designated locations.

But the squad happened to be temporarily absent; after waiting half a day, he gave up.

"By the way, uh, Herbert, uh… I have something I want to ask you…"

"Hm?"

Hearing this, Herbert turned his head again, and found the vampire lady, who had just been smug, now with flushed cheeks.

She kept glancing at Herbert, head lowered, fidgeting nervously with her fingers.

"Y-you said before… you really were going to be my male concubine? Uh, no—I mean, are you going to pretend to be my male concubine?"

Herbert:?

Why is this coming up again?

Haven't you gotten out of your fantasy time yet?

"Yes, so what?"

He nodded, amused, and added: "More accurately, it's 'attendant'—though fundamentally, there's no real difference."

Whether male concubine or attendant, the identity must remember: "The language of steel wool is endurance and wealth."

After receiving Herbert's confirmation, Elisa visibly brightened, her eyes widening as she pressed: "Then! That means, during this time, you'll obey my orders?"

Oh?

Herbert raised an eyebrow, sensing something intriguing.

Looks like someone's tired of always being the one getting bullied—wants to turn the tables.

Interesting.

"Yes."

Herbert nodded, smiling: "Do you have something you want me to do?"

"Hehe!"

Elisa, of course, wouldn't reveal her true thoughts now; she grinned foolishly and shook her head: "Ahem, nothing! Really nothing! You'll find out later!"

To hide her true intentions, Elisa rolled over and burrowed under the blanket, covering her head like a child covering her ears to block out a bell, giggling to herself inside.

Herbert, wait and see!

When we're outside, I'll make you truly serve as my male concubine!

Hehehehe, it's your turn now, hehehehe…

Yet she didn't notice—after she pulled the blanket over her head, the other two in the carriage exchanged a silent glance.

"... Sigh." ×2

Both silently sighed, pitying the embarrassing vampire buried under the blanket.

This child is pitifully naive!

She actually believed Herbert would faithfully follow his own rules.

……

……

Slave camp.

A guard's thick spittle flew out and splattered onto the still-jolting slave cart, nearly landing on one of the slaves' faces.

Had the slave not instinctively bent down with the jolt, the spittle would have landed squarely on his brow.

"……Tch."

Cyril lowered his head, his face twitching repeatedly as he barely suppressed the urge to explode.

Damn it.

Endure!

Though he still disliked Herbert, he admitted Herbert's earlier speech held some truth.

Temporary endurance is for a greater outburst.

I'll endure!

Cyril held back—but unluckily, someone had no intention of letting him rest.

After scanning this batch of cargo, the burly guard withdrew his gaze in disappointment.

Too bad, none of his favorite types.

Still, even if there was no must-have delicacy, there were passable ones.

He looked at Cyril's muscular frame, nodded approvingly, and beckoned him over.

"You! Not you—yes, you! You looked down on me just now, didn't you? Get out here!"

Cyril:?

He raised his head, watching the burly man point at him, and blinked.

Huh? Me?

He picked me?

Cyril frowned and slowly stood up, about to walk to the cage's edge—when his foot suddenly halted.

A chill crept up his legs and settled on his buttocks.

This strange, icy sensation made his anus clench tightly as he instinctively squeezed his buttocks shut.

Wait… something's wrong here!

Am I afraid?

Afraid of him?

Instinctive warning made Cyril narrow his eyes, watching the guard outside the cage with tension.

The guy's strength was probably low to mid-tier—not worth worrying about.

His physique was massive, but utterly insignificant against absolute power.

Why is he looking at me like that?

Cyril's hesitation was mistaken for indecision by his fellow slaves; someone nearby whispered, "Cyril, endure—now's not the time to expose yourself."

"Suffer a little, just hold on."

Cyril slowly nodded, offering the worried few a reassuring, mature smile.

"Don't worry—I won't expose myself."

It's just flogging and abuse, right?

Heh.

I don't think this guy's flogging skills surpass those of the惩戒 nuns at the Tribunal!

……

Three minutes after Cyril left the cage.

A piercing scream erupted from the guard's hut.

"Ahh!!!"

And a broken, tearless roar.

"I can't take it anymore!!!"

(End of Chapter)