Chapter 321: Chapter 233: Return

Northern Border South, Pine and Fir Valley, a small village forgotten by the map.

Located at the edge of the hilly forest, perpetually shrouded in mist and pine trees, around a hundred people lived by working from dawn till dusk, making it one of the better-off villages in the Northern Territory.

Until that day, the nightmare arrived.

It wasn’t the descent of a large-scale Nest, just a few searching insect corpses, but for a village with almost no combat capability, it was a cataclysm.

“Monsters! Everyone, run!!”

That was the warning loudly shouted first at the forest’s edge by Hunter Tal.

And then chaos ensued.

Crying, stumbling, the sound of flesh being gnawed, and torches desperately waving in panic.

Blacksmith Elvin swung a hammer that had not yet cooled, trying to smash the incoming insect corpses.

The moment the hammer struck the insect shell, sparks flew, like the faint, unyielding fire in his eyes.

Then, his right arm was torn apart.

“Don’t worry about me… run!!”

He roared, using his remaining hand to push the little girl behind him towards the direction of escape.

But was then pulled away by Hunter Tal, blood spilled from his shoulder, staining the mountain trail beneath their feet.

They fled into a cave by the village.

It was a relic of an old mine, sealed long ago by dust and vines.

But at that moment, it became synonymous with “life.”

Only 24 people managed to escape into the cave alive.

Elders, women, children, and the unconscious, blood-dripping young blacksmith.

They survived on residual dried food and rainwater trickling down the cave walls. The interior was dark, damp, and cold, with the cries of the insect corpses echoing outside, no one dared to utter a sound.

Some cried, some stared blankly, some tried to pray, while others gritted their teeth and said, “As long as we’re alive… there’s hope.”

Hunger was a metallic pain rising from the bottom of the stomach, spreading throughout the body, as if the bones had been drained of nutrients, leaving only a weakened shell.

The old mine of Pine and Fir Valley had truly become a “house of bones.”

People lived by gnawing on tree roots, chewing on dry wood, and licking the dew on rock walls.

The cold inside was biting, forcing them to cautiously light a small fire, lest the insect corpses detect them.

They used smoke to mask their scent, even arranging stones at the cave entrance, attempting to “trick” those monsters’ instincts.

The most terrifying were the occasional explosions and insect howls from outside, as if Hell roamed the earth.

No day, no night, only continuous chaos and stillness for eight days.

The eighth day.

Food supplies completely depleted.

The youngest child began to cry silently, the tear marks on his eyes even more cracked than his lips.

“Mom, I’m so hungry…”

“Wait a little longer, just a little longer…”

A young man once tried to go outside.

But he returned not long after, with eyes empty as if his soul had been lost.

He said, “Outside… is moving… the ground is alive, a living hell…”

After that, he began to scream, rambling incoherently, burying his face in the fire and crying: “They’re still here, they’re still here… we never really escaped…”

As the ninth dawn had yet to break, the mine cave was almost collapsing.

And at that moment.

“…Clang, clang…”

A barely audible metallic scraping sound came from behind the rock walls.

The group held their breath, unsure if it was new death or a final end.

Then came the light of a torch.

Firelight reflected off the damp cave walls, carrying with it a warmth and sacred glow.

On that ninth day without daylight, a knight in red silver armor stepped into the cave entrance, holding a torch aloft, like an angel descending from the myths.

Their capes flapped in the wind, the firelight illuminating the emblem on their chests, a red field and yellow sun, burning fiercely.

“Is… is it humans?”

“It’s really knights! Save us… save us…!”

The next moment, deep in the cave, the frail figures rushed out.

Their faces pale as paper, eyes bloodshot, wearing tattered, blood-stained cloth, blankets woven from wild grass; some knelt, some crawled, all to get closer to that bit of light.

“Give them water!” the Knight Captain commanded in a deep voice.

The knights at the back quickly opened their waist water pouches and emergency kits, distributing dry food, purified water, and basic healing potions one by one.

The steam from hot water rose in the cold air, like strings of long-lost human presence.

Some sipped the water tremblingly, drinking and crying at the same time.

Some hadn’t even had a chance to express gratitude before fainting in the knights’ arms.

The knights said, “Don’t be afraid, it’s over now. We are the Red Tide Territory Rescue Knight Order under Lord Louis.”

“Lo… Lord Louis?” an old man muttered in a daze, evidently having never heard of the name before.

But they knew, these knights saved them.

At this moment, the name was not important; what mattered was they were still alive, someone had saved them.

The young blacksmith, covered in wounds, was lifted out of the cave by two knights.

Half of his face was gray, the other half bloody, but his lips trembled, repeatedly murmuring, “We’re… we’re still alive… we didn’t die…”

Among the crowd, some couldn’t help but kneel, weeping hysterically, crying as if to make up for the tears not shed in eight days, all at once.

The Knight Order did not urge them, silently organizing everyone into an “emergency evacuation queue,” escorting them to migrate south.

This wasn’t the first time.

The Red Tide Territory Rescue Knight Order had been dispatched dozens of times.

Each time they set out, they carried enough dry food, simple Purification Crystals, and basic magic potions and other rescue supplies, all to search within the gaps of the corpse tide and decay mist for “humans still alive.”

In the mountains, across ravines, under the frozen riverbeds’ caves, even within the secret paths under collapsed ruins…

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