Chapter 4: The Shepherd

“Then let’s go find your father.” Lu Mi stood up abruptly.

He always acted swiftly and knew well that investigating the village’s legend couldn’t be delayed—delay too long and his sister would find out, and his sister Aurora would surely forbid him from continuing.

This was because, in Aurora’s eyes, pursuing supernatural power was an extremely dangerous act.

How could I not know it’s dangerous? Aurora wouldn’t lie to me about this—but even if ahead of me lay a mountain of blades and a sea of fire, I must walk forward; I can’t let Aurora face it alone… As he rose, this thought flashed through Lu Mi’s mind.

Every time she mentioned how increasingly dangerous the world had become, the seriousness and worry on Aurora’s face were unmistakable!

Ryan Cos looked even more confused:

“Why find him?”

“To ask when the witch’s legend occurred.” Lu Mi glanced at Ryan.

How can this guy not understand basic speech? I should find an opportunity to test his intelligence.

Ryan’s face was full of confusion as he looked at Lu Mi and said:

“Why do you need to know so precisely?”

Hmm… Should I make up some excuse to fool this guy, or tell him the truth? Lu Mi fell into deep thought.

Considering his future investigation couldn’t possibly remain entirely hidden from these friends nearby, and the reason of seeking the legend’s truth sounded like a lie that no villager would believe, Lu Mi quickly formed a plan.

He instantly wore his usual deceitful smile.

“...” Ryan stepped back two paces sharply. “Talk normally!”

Lu Mi straightened his dark short jacket and the linen shirt beneath it, then smiled and said:

“I think the witch’s legend is worth serious thought.”

“What’s worth thinking about?” Ryan pondered for a long while before replying.

“The phrase: ‘There used to be a witch in the village.’” Lu Mi spoke seriously. “Think about it—when I make up stories to deceive people, I never mention time, place, or background that everyone can immediately verify. But this legend clearly states that there was once a witch in our village, Kerdou Village. If it were a lie, wouldn’t it be easily exposed?”

“But that was a long time ago,” Ryan countered.

“I mean the people back then, when the story first began circulating—they could have easily confirmed whether a witch had died in the village then.” Lu Mi smiled. “Since the story has endured, it likely actually happened.”

This reasoning failed to convince Ryan:

“But you often use ‘over a hundred years ago,’ ‘hundreds of years ago,’ or ‘long ago’ to make stories impossible to verify.”

“That’s exactly why we need to confirm it with your father!” Lu Mi wore an expression clearly saying, “Now you understand why I need to find your father.”

“True…” Ryan accepted the explanation, yet still felt something was off.

As the two left the square and walked deeper into the village, Ryan finally realized:

“But why do you care whether this legend is true or false?”

“A witch! A real witch! If we can confirm which house he lived in and where he was buried, we might uncover his secrets and gain supernatural power beyond ordinary people.” Lu Mi spoke words that sounded like lies but carried truth.

Ryan’s face instantly took on the expression: “Don’t try to fool me.”

“Most of those stories are just made up to scare children—how could they be real?”

“Besides, pursuing a witch’s power could land you in the Inquisition!”

The Intis Republic lies on the northern continent of this world, where the orthodox deities are the “Eternal Sun” and the “God of Steam and Machinery.” Their churches have divided nearly all public faith and forbid the churches of the Ruin Kingdom’s “Goddess of Night,” the “Lord of Storms,” the Feneport Kingdom’s “Mother Earth,” the churches of the Central-South nations like Lunbao, the “God of Knowledge and Wisdom,” and the Fasak Empire’s “God of War” from preaching within its borders.

The Inquisition of the “Eternal Sun” Church has always instilled fear in the populace—countless heretics and pagans have been imprisoned and subjected to cruel treatment.

Lu Mi laughed heartily:

“Why are you worried about this now? You yourself said most legends are fabricated—there’s almost no chance we’ll find any trace of the witch.”

“And even if we did find his relics, we don’t have to inherit that forbidden power—we could hand it over to the Church and claim a reward. Hmm, as a witch, his burial goods must include plenty of treasure.”

The Church Lu Mi referred to was the “Eternal Sun” Church, since their village, Kerdou Village, had no “God of Steam and Machinery” Church—it was usually found only in major cities and factory towns.

Seeing Ryan visibly intrigued, Lu Mi silently clicked his tongue and added:

“Do you really want to become a shepherd?”

The shepherd he meant wasn’t the pastoral figure city dwellers imagined—someone who, as part of the family, led a few sheep out to graze each morning and kept them safe.

In the Dali Ri region of Lesten Province, where Kerdou Village lay, shepherding was a profession—a life destined for hardship and solitude.

They were hired by sheep owners to drive dozens or even hundreds of sheep back and forth between mountainous areas and plains.

This was called transhumance—each autumn, as the high-altitude pastures around Kerdou Village withered, shepherds drove their flocks beyond the mountain pass to warmer lowland pastures, often crossing borders into Feneport, Lunbao, and other nations. By early May, they returned to the villages, sheared wool, weaned lambs; in June, they ascended into the high pastures, lived in huts, made cheese, and tended the flock until the weather turned cold.

Thus, shepherds turned fields year after year, spending their entire lives on the move, with only rare moments to return to the village. Most remained single, unable to marry or form families; the few widows who became shepherds out of necessity were highly sought after in this group.

Ryan fell silent.

After a long while, he hesitantly spoke:

“Alright, I’ll go along with you. This sounds like a fun way to pass the time.”

Normally, once a family decided which child would become a shepherd, they sent him between ages fifteen and eighteen to work for a shepherd master, learning the trade; after three years, he officially became a shepherd, seeking employment everywhere.

Ryan, seventeen this year, had already delayed this fate for over two years with various excuses—if his life remained unchanged, next year he would have to begin learning to be a shepherd.

“Let’s go,” Lu Mi slapped Ryan’s shoulder. “Is your father in the fields or at home?”

“There’s been little work lately, and Lent’s coming soon—he’s either at home or at the tavern.” Ryan sighed with envy. “You don’t even know this? You’re definitely not a farmer—you’ve got a great sister!”

Lu Mi kept his hands in his pockets and walked slowly forward, ignoring Ryan’s remark.

As they neared the village’s old tavern, a man approached from a side path.

He wore a long, dark brown coat with a hood, a rope tied at his waist, and a pair of brand-new, soft-looking black leather shoes.

“Pierre? Pierre from the Béry family?” Ryan exclaimed in surprise.

Lu Mi also stopped and turned toward the side path.

“It’s me,” Pierre Béry smiled and waved.

He was thin, with sunken eye sockets, greasy black hair curled tightly, and a thick, unshaven beard.

“Why are you back?” Ryan asked, puzzled.

Pierre Béry was a shepherd; it was late March to early April—he should be grazing his flock beyond the mountain pass, so how could he be in the village?

Even if his transhumance took him to Lunbao or northern Feneport, he’d only just begun returning to Dali Ri, needing about a month to arrive.

Pierre had gentle, smiling blue eyes and said cheerfully:

“Isn’t Lent coming soon? I haven’t attended in years—I couldn’t miss it this year!”

“Don’t worry—I’ve got companions watching my flock. That’s the advantage of being a shepherd: no overseers. As long as you can find someone to help, you can go anywhere—it’s very free.”

Lent was a widespread festival across Intis, where people welcomed spring in various forms and prayed for a bountiful year.

It had nothing to do with the “Eternal Sun” Church or the “God of Steam and Machinery,” but had become a folk tradition without worshiping pagan deities, so the orthodox churches tolerated it.

“You’re here to see who gets chosen as the Spirit of Spring, right?” Lu Mi teased with a smile.

During Kerdou Village’s Lent festival, a beautiful girl was chosen to portray the Spirit of Spring—it was part of the celebration.

Pierre chuckled along:

“I hope it’s your sister Aurora, but she’d never agree, and she’s too old anyway.”

“Enough,” he pointed to the tavern nearby. “I’ll pray at the church, then buy you both drinks.”

Ryan instinctively replied:

“No need—you don’t have much money.”

“Haha, the gods teach us: ‘Even if you have only one copper, share it with your poor brothers.’” Pierre quoted a proverb among Dali Ri shepherds.

At that moment, Lu Mi smiled at Ryan:

“Pierre’s made his fortune—he’s definitely treating us to drinks!”

He was referring to Pierre Béry’s brand-new leather shoes.

Pierre Béry was delighted:

“My employer was generous—he gave me several sheep, plus wool, cheese, and leather.”

Shepherds’ pay consisted of food, small amounts of money, and shares of livestock, cheese, wool, and leather—what they received depended entirely on their contract with the employer.

For shepherds undertaking long journeys, a good pair of suitable leather shoes was the most urgent and practical need.

Watching Pierre Béry walk toward the village square, Lu Mi’s gaze grew heavy, tinged with suspicion.

He muttered silently:

“To attend Lent, he’d spend one or two weeks—or nearly a month—just to come back?”

After a moment’s thought, Lu Mi turned away and walked with Ryan toward the tavern.

The tavern had no name and didn’t need one—Kerdou Village had only this one, and villagers called it the Old Tavern.

As soon as they entered, Lu Mi automatically scanned the room.

Suddenly, his gaze froze on one spot.

He saw the outsider who had left early last night.

The outsider who clearly wasn’t with Ryan, Lyra, or Valentine.

She was a woman, wearing an orange-yellow long dress, her brown hair softly curled and falling over her shoulders, her pale blue eyes fixed on the pale red alcoholic drink in her hand.

She was beautiful and languid, as if belonging to a different scene entirely from the low, dim, dilapidated tavern.

PS: Thank you to Sikong Yibin for the Silver Alliance donation.

(End of Chapter)