Chapter Seventy-Two: The Eve of the Journey

Caesar’s convoy was set to gather and depart outside the town before dawn, and Zhao Xu had to log in two hours earlier to prepare his divine and arcane spells. He hadn’t cast much yesterday, so all his spell slots remained unused; technically, he could have skipped the preparation. Yet, after meeting his four companions, Zhao Xu, aligned with the good faction, dutifully revised his spell list.

His “Versatile Spellcaster” ability allowed him to bypass the usual restrictions between arcane and divine preparation, though the cost of two spell slots was considerable—especially for someone like Zhao Xu from a humble background, who had to be frugal in the early stages.

Spell preparation generally required a quiet environment, so Zhao Xu booked a simple room at the tavern where he’d stayed the previous night. In Arthur’s town, most taverns and inns operated together; ordinary folk rarely stayed overnight, and the clientele were mostly adventurers—making these venues ideal for players to gather information.

After finishing his meditation and prayers, Zhao Xu began to clean and inspect his weapons. The utility pouch Antinoa had given him was already packed with assorted adventuring supplies. While there were no magical items, the variety was ample, enough to meet any lone adventurer’s needs.

In his hand now was a light crossbow, his primary ranged weapon for the journey ahead. A single shot dealt 1D8 damage—far more than his zero-level spells. This was why mage players were often mocked at first level: their attack spells couldn’t match simple melee or archery. Even so, few mage players currently owned a light crossbow worth 35 gold pieces. It wasn’t stinginess that held them back, but the prohibitive cost of crossbow bolts in Arthur. One gold coin bought only ten bolts, meaning every missed shot cost a silver coin.

After checking the crossbow’s lever for smoothness, Zhao Xu loaded a bolt and set it ready. He then took his wooden staff, smoothed out its rough spots, and secured it at his waist using its clasp. In his previous life, Zhao Xu had wielded two-handed greatswords with flair, but the current class of Cleric only granted proficiency with light weapons. Unless he spent another feat, he couldn’t use military weapons like greatswords with expertise. If he forced it, he’d lose the sense of unity between man and weapon, making it harder to hit.

Glancing at the hourglass, Zhao Xu saw it was nearly time. He packed up and went downstairs, where the other players had already logged in and waited by the carriage outside the tavern.

Zhao Xu raised an eyebrow—Caesar was thorough, even sending a subordinate with a carriage to escort them out of town. He greeted Maple and the others, then climbed aboard. The wheels rattled as the carriage slowly rolled beyond the town gates.

With Zhao Xu, an outsider, joining them, the atmosphere grew awkward. The previously lively party turned silent. Zhao Xu had ridden enough wild carriages to be unfazed. He reviewed his character sheet, contemplating various contingency plans.

His duel with Antinoa had been untimed—a teaching match where he could play at leisure, even retract moves. In the wild, true life-and-death combat awaited; many players facing it for the first time would lose form, and dropping weapons was not uncommon.

Yet, as he studied his character sheet, Zhao Xu’s brow furrowed. The line “Potential Points: 0/5” hadn’t changed since it first appeared, remaining static every day. He could only sigh—according to the Final Scroll, this ability was an even greater cheat than dual elite classes. Unfortunately, it could only be restored upon leveling up, or when he finally acquired a spell to recover potential points. For now, all Zhao Xu could do was daydream about how his future self would outclass every player.

“Mr. Midsummer, why didn’t you become a bard like Frog Brother? He didn’t pass apprentice training either, but bards can cast spells regardless.” The young cleric sitting in the corner broke the silence, noticing Zhao Xu’s pensive frown.

Zhao Xu lifted his head, a bit taken aback. Was this how girls behaved these days—always bringing up the most awkward topics? The first-level cleric and wizard spell lists overlapped in places, but not entirely. With clever players, it was easy to spot the difference. Yesterday, Zhao Xu had worried that revealing both cleric and wizard spells might arouse suspicion, especially with a bard and cleric present. So he claimed the role of “Mentor,” a class the players weren’t yet familiar with. Any spell he cast, he’d assert was a mentor’s spell.

Zhao Xu, aware of the dangers outside, also feared that admitting his strength might affect the others’ judgment. The road ahead was safe enough, but if they encountered trouble in the Skybreak Mountains, he was almost certain it would be a deadly situation. In Arthur’s wilderness, monsters didn’t spawn by regions. One conflict could attract countless monsters to the convoy. The aftermath of battle, the scent of blood, the startled birds—all these were blazing signals to nearby creatures.

So, if things went wrong, everyone running for their lives was the best option. If Zhao Xu were level seven, he could play the role of the tiger hiding among pigs. At level one, he was focused on his own survival.

He had chosen the black market convoy precisely because, should they need to flee, he wouldn’t feel guilty. Good-aligned folk knew when to retreat against evil; those who didn’t were called paladins.

After thinking it over, Zhao Xu replied, “Because I caught a cold that day.”

Rainbow, the rogue busy counting caltrops, looked up at him. “Does it matter?”

The cleric, still curious, pressed, “Really, does it matter whether you chose bard or mentor?”

Zhao Xu smiled. “Exactly, there’s no difference.”

The carriage fell silent once more. Zhao Xu felt relieved—if he hadn’t said that, the cleric girl would likely have asked what spells he’d prepared today. Whether he answered or not, it would be awkward; better to establish a cold, aloof persona from the start.

He intended to protect his own life, not rely on these players for protection. On the forums, many star players had already emerged with powerful feats. Everyone received the same training, but those who acquired extra feats or spells stood out.

Previously, the thread about Zhao Xu becoming a cleric overnight had been hot, but it cooled over the past two days as the poster couldn’t provide new evidence. Fame meant income in the age of digital traffic, but for Zhao Xu, who preferred to keep a low profile, it was only a burden.

Suddenly, the carriage wheels came to an abrupt halt, breaking the silence. Zhao Xu was the first to open the curtain and step down.

As the dawn’s light crept across the horizon, Zhao Xu saw the convoy’s cargo laid out before him, and his head began to ache.

If this journey passed without incident, truly the goddess would be watching over them.