Chapter 158: In the Forest

The next day, after returning to the estate for preparations, the team decided to enter the forest under the guidance of the lumberjack Xiao En, to see exactly where they had originally found that central rotting jujube tree.

Most people neither understood nor cared about the reason for this order, yet displayed an unusually high degree of obedience and discipline—even though their commander, Ma Ding, was merely a knight. In a way, this might be even rarer than raw personal strength.

Warhorses were unsuitable for entering forests without paths and offered no practical value; only a few packhorses were brought along, bearing the weight of armor and camping gear. And the oil that Kraft demanded be carried—stored in small jars wrapped in a net bag, cushioned with straw to dampen shocks, and hung from the saddle sides.

Due to weight constraints, the amount carried would inevitably fall short of Kraft's satisfaction, but objective conditions did not permit him to bring more.

Ma Ding thought it unnecessary to carry more. This was oil meant for burning down castle gates during sieges—its effect was terrifyingly effective, and keeping it nearby made one feel unsafe. Still, he was willing to follow the expert's advice and bring some, just in case they needed to give a fungus-covered heretic a proper pyre.

Come to think of it, would a professor from the Medical Academy ever actually use fire oil in their professional work?

Carrying this small doubt, Ma Ding rested briefly at the lumberyard and followed the guide, who carried only minimal luggage, deep into the forest.

According to Xiao En, what he called "quite far" meant about two or three days' walk through the forest; beyond that, it became impractical to haul timber back to the lumberyard. The river upstream within the forest was too shallow, full of rocks and shallows, or blocked by fallen branches hanging into the water—unlike the downstream sections, it could not be used for floating logs; everything had to be carried by hand.

On good days, they would also bring back forest specialties—small animals, berries, wild greens—all hidden within the endless green curtain, far richer than the outer forest, frequently disturbed. But in recent trips, luck seemed to have run out; their harvests were worse than in previous years.

Progress through this environment was difficult, often requiring hand axes to clear paths, cutting through various known and unknown plants to carve out narrow passages.

Insects and ants plagued them, and leaves perpetually damp with moisture kept a faint, persistent itch on their skin. Since their route roughly followed the river, no one knew what lay beneath the seemingly normal layer of fallen leaves—perhaps flat ground, perhaps a mire that could swallow a leg whole.

Finding a large enough clearing for camp each night was also difficult, requiring considerable time and effort to clear, breeding constant irritation. At such times, the carried fire oil proved useful for igniting fires in the dampness.

These troubles reassured those who knew the target: whatever they were tracking could not move through such a forest without leaving traces—even a ghost would leave footprints.

After more than two days of hardship, Xiao En finally located the area where they had last cut timber, using a peculiarly shaped lightning-struck tree as a landmark.

Indeed, it was only a general area; expecting to recall the exact stump from memory was impossible.

Fortunately, the space here was somewhat more open, allowing them to set up camp on a forest clearing without needing to clear it first—something to be thankful for.

"I seem to recall a proverb: searching for a specific tree in a forest," Ma Ding said, glancing around the sparse, low vegetation, feeling as though the sunlight filtering down was noticeably brighter, no longer blocked by the canopy to the extent of nine-tenths. "It means something impossible."

For days now, the most common thing they'd seen was trees. Faced with this problem, Kraft also felt stumped. "I shouldn't have expected Xiao En to pinpoint the exact spot."

"Of course, it's not his fault. No one could make it easy. We can search the surrounding area—here, at least, the vegetation isn't too dense."

"I have no idea how long this will take," Ma Ding muttered, walking off to check on his attendants' progress digging soil, making sure they didn't casually roast and eat any wild game they'd picked up.

Along the way, they'd gathered some berries and wild greens, and mushrooms—but scattered sparsely, never once encountering the kind of unnaturally vigorous growth.

And here, at the base of a tree root, was a cluster of mushrooms with white stems and brown caps, about the size of a finger. Their color didn't suggest anything lethal; they resembled the traditional image of edible fungi.

Precisely because of this, Ma Ding had to keep a close eye on the men tending the fire, ensuring no one again slipped him a skewer of grilled white-bellied mushroom slices when he wasn't looking. For safety's sake, and out of sheer psychological aversion, he refused to associate mushrooms with food anymore.

"I'm going for a walk—won't go far," Kraft said, heading toward the quieter edge of camp. He felt unusually unwell today; standing among people made breathing difficult, as if he were stuck in a long queue.

Based on experience, distancing himself from the crowd should improve things, so he declined Ku Pu's company, leaning against a tree just outside camp that remained visible, waving to show he was fine and no one needed to worry.

After pressing the back of his head against the trunk for a moment, the fresh forest air did not help. Instead, his left arm, which had been swinging earlier, felt like it had been overextended—pain radiated around a hard object, moving through the muscles.

When uneven cold and heat began rising from his very marrow, Kraft realized this was more than just feeling off.

The sensation was subtle—like the warmth of sun-heated rock versus the slight chill of metal before dawn, or the fine, flickering numbness and needle-pricks of an old TV's static—sending him signals through this threshold.

His mind felt heavy, as if submerged in a light liquid brewed from idle chatter; only by paying close attention could he detect its presence.

Kraft stepped away from the trunk, backing up several paces toward the tree—the odd sensation lessened, as if a hallucination had faded slightly.

He continued pulling back, but the feeling didn't vanish—it returned to its original level, as if the earlier dip had merely been a minor misperception.

He decided to circle the entire camp. The sticky, damp-like anomaly rose and fell unpredictably, like ripples on a pool's surface, yet he remained trapped within this boundless, unreachable pool, flailing helplessly.

"Ku Pu, come here," Kraft called to his idle attendant. "Do you feel unwell? Dizzy? Dull-headed?"

"Uh… I suppose I might feel a little—like water got in my ear—but it's nothing serious. Do you need something?" The attendant shook his head, trying to dislodge the nonexistent water.

"Go borrow me an axe."

"Wait a moment." Ku Pu ran back to camp and quickly borrowed an axe from Xiao En, handing it to Kraft.

Kraft swung his arm hard, striking the nearest tree trunk. Two axe marks sank deep, meeting at the heartwood, shearing off a wedge-shaped chip.

But Kraft had no intention of felling the tree. After prying out the chip, he immediately moved to another tree, repeating the action over ten times, circling the entire camp, returning to the center with a bundle of discarded wood chips.

"We don't need to waste time searching for the tree we cut last time."

"You mean…?" Ma Ding picked up a chip and saw the pale, softened patches—year rings erased.

"They're everywhere."