After a morning of rest, at noon on October 11, all the citizens of the Pope Country finally embarked on the starting point of the Path of Blood and Sweat.
There are still 350 miles to Joan of Arc Castle.
Horn stood on the carriage, shading his eyes as he looked into the distance.
On both sides of the winding path were mountain ranges that seemed within reach, but were actually far away.
The Black Bone Swamp is actually the peat bog between the mountains, once part of the river’s course.
When the mountains shifted, the original river course was blocked, and the river redirected its flow into the Nao’an River, forming this swamp in the small river valley basin.
According to Qianqian’s account, this river valley presents a three-bulbed gourd shape, with the outermost exit being Wild Spider Forest.
The area of the second bulb is the lowest, most dangerous no-man’s land swamp.
Their entrance area was surrounded instead by patches of reed flowers and flocks of waterfowl, along with homes of beastmen and wild people.
Walking through the narrow valley passage, a vast swamp region lay ahead, beneath grass and reeds were muddy and dark hidden ditches.
The hidden ditches were full of loose mud indistinguishable from the water, filled with moss and animal corpses.
Few water surfaces were covered with filthy green sludge, dead white trees protruding from the mire like giant beast bones piercing the skin.
Horn instructed someone to test it, discovering it took a spear over three meters long to reach the bottom of a waterhole the size of a washbasin, using all their strength to pull it out.
Should someone fall into it, they might never manage to climb out.
"Tsk tsk tsk." Horn couldn’t help but marvel.
Despite this, distant hills and swamp highlands still wisped with smoke.
On such land, the road built by the former El Empire remained intact—an absolute miracle.
"El technology world’s number one indeed," Madlan gazed at the road stretching to the horizon and couldn’t help but comment, "El people’s slogan isn’t empty talk; El scholars occupy more than one-third of the Salin Scholar Association."
"Parasites resting on their laurels," murmured Boned under his breath beside them.
Horn turned his head: "Why do you say that?"
Those around them also glanced at Boned because Horn’s Pope Country was established using the El Empire as a template, and some elders even claimed to be El Third Empire.
Facing the unfriendly stares around him, Boned swallowed: "Back then, when the El Empire migrated east, El people inherited most of El Empire’s cultural legacy, clinging stubbornly.
Causing our three great kingdoms’ civilization progress to stall for a millennium; some ancient engineering machinery cannot even be produced anymore."
"El Empire was a nation of the El people; inheriting their legacy seems fine."
"No." Looking at Horn, Boned didn’t know how to address him, only saying, "Your excellency Wanpiao, El people of the El Empire are not the same as El people of our side."
Actually, El people refer to the half-elf or elf people, whose elf blood gradually thinned after the unification of Seven Hills Kingdom.
By the empire’s end, only the thousand-year-old noble families maintained some elf traits through internal high-level marriages.
The rest lost all elf characteristics through continuous interbreeding.
The demon sickness outbreak at empire’s end specifically targeted elf blood; survivors either turned into vampires or possessed barely a trace of elf blood.
"Those so-called El people, dyed-haired and fake-eared, really consider themselves El people," Boned sarcastically sneered.
Horn nodded thoughtfully.
Hmm, hold on—doesn’t that mean the vampire nobility of the Blood and Flesh Royal Court are the true El descendants?
"Priests’ dislike of El people," Qianqian interrupted Horn’s thoughts, "is because Salin Scholar Association nurtured numerous mathematicians, law scholars, and philosophers, usurping many powers originally belonging to the church. Your grace, don’t be fooled into thinking they’re genuinely concerned for the people."
Boned shot an angry look at Qianqian.
"Look at how adorable our little grumpy is when upset." Qianqian teasingly pinched Boned’s cheek, then picked up her blue feather fan to cover her mouth and laugh again.
Horn was also observing Boned at the moment.
Horn kept this priest beside him mainly to probe church intelligence and monks’ extraordinary abilities.
Truth be told, Horn tested the holy oil Boned previously carried—it was merely ordinary animal grease mixed with herbs.
He even applied some himself—aside from the cooling sensation like an ointment, there were no other effects.
Setting those thoughts aside, it was getting late, and Horn knew it was time to head out.
"Alright, let’s continue; we’ve traveled 150 miles already. Just 300 more, and into Duke Kush Danai’s territory; we’ll be safe then."
At Horn’s command, the entire Pope Country moved again; the newly joined citizens also began marching alongside the veteran soldiers.
Due to two prior battles—despite both victories, there were still nearly thirty casualties.
Moreover, with Saint Sun Gen’s reputation, some refugees dissatisfied long before with church nobility joined in, replenishing the population to over twelve hundred.
Walking along the Path of Blood and Sweat, Horn glanced to each side, seeing one waterhole connected to another, scattered shrubs between them.
Occasionally, one or two marsh rats poked their heads out from the roadside, swiftly retracting; some otters carried sticks as they swam by.
Horn’s timeline road was slightly higher than the surrounding terrain, resembling a levee; wide enough for two carriages side by side.
Ground composed of stone heaps filled with unknown materials to seal gaps—more resilient than earthen roads and better than a king’s road.
Ginkgo and lantern trees grew roadside; occasionally a wooden bridge or elevated embankment extended from distant hill bases to the road.
"Wouldn’t attacking beastman villages through these routes be easy?"
"Indeed." Qianqian promptly replied.
"So why didn’t the empire directly assault villages via these small paths before?"
Jeska answered with a smile: "Those noble families from Thousand River Valley attempted many times.
While marching and attacking, beastmen would balance long rods, jumping through hidden ditches and waterholes, ambushing them.
These paths are narrow, barely accommodating two people side by side; they’re unprepared, especially armored ones—once pushed into roadside mire, they’d be stuck."
Noble families organized three attacks; each met failure by beastmen and wild folk. Upon recognizing little benefit, they conceded."
Is that so, huh? Horn stopped asking, urging villagers to hurry to the mountain path.
Inroads between waterholes, upon attack, may experience similar fate as the Thousand River Valley nobles.
Needing horsemanship practice—and capturing many horses earlier—Horn chose to ride rather than walk.
Thinking about beastmen, Horn glanced up and noticed beastman figures with twitching ears dart across the path ahead.
"Did you just see that?" Horn asked Jeska beside him.
Jeska nodded gravely: "Saw it—likely from a beastman village; we should be wary."
No sooner said than a signal arrow burst into the sky with a whistling noise.