Desert is an indifferent bitch, headstrong, changeable, and ruthless. She devoured every bit of life that passed, not even spitting out the bones, chewing cleanly. Therefore, it is a very rare thing for a lost person to be alive in the desert, and the herdsmen in the desert call this kind of person who was almost taken away by the desert, but miraculously survived, as Ajibai Muhadi, which means miracle man. Encountering such a person is somewhat of a good sign, at least in most cases.

The team consisted of about two dozen people, riding desert horses much taller than their counterparts on Earth, in an evacuated but alert formation. No one said much, and every rider seemed alert and capable, and his vigilant eyes swept over the surrounding sand at any time.

They wore loose white robes and straw sandals, and wore turbans that covered their heads and most of the back of their heads. They had scimitars and daggers pinned to their waists, the daggers had a very unique shape, the back of the blade was three fingers wide, but the front was violently narrowed and twisted to form a vicious hook. [[[net.com/cc. {0,10}o.{0,10}m9.jpg]]] They are slightly taller than normal people, and they are in harmony with the mounts under their crotch. These riders have soft facial lines and slightly pointed chins, their pupils are apricot-yellow, and their features are delicate and handsome. Although the skin is incompatible with the desert fair. Watching them walk in the desert on horseback, anyone can easily see that they are an excellent sand people. The rider and mount seemed to be one with each other, and every move seemed relaxed and natural, as if the hot weather, soft sand, and dry gales had no effect at all.

One of the riders on one side of the line appeared first in the sand and alerted a young female rider next to him, who called out to his companion in an unfamiliar language. Soon everyone noticed the man half-buried in the sand, and the two riders rode forward, while the rest of the people looked around vigilantly.

"It's a trap!" said a large rider to a man with a collar, his tone gruff and spitting. "This is the edge of the Arica Desert, no traveler will venture deep here, no caravan will pass through here, we ourselves are the farthest tribe to go, but we would never venture this far this even if it were not for the shortcut this time. This must have been a trap set by those people, who knew we were chasing and wanted to send someone to infiltrate us as an undercover agent so that they could give them our place in time. "The more the rider speaks, the higher the pitch becomes, and the tone becomes more confident and unquestionable. "What's more, judging by the traces left by this man, he must have come from the core of the Arica Desert, where no one has ever been there, where no living creatures can survive. It's too fake, it must be the subordinates of the city people who don't know much about the desert. ”

Collar's face was thoughtful, but he didn't say anything. His robes were cleaner than those of the others, and there was hardly any trace of sand on the placket. He carried a scimitar around his waist like the others, but the handle was intricately decorated and the scabbard was hollowed out.

The first rider disagreed, and he looked the big rider in the eye and questioned. "You think he's trying to infiltrate our undercover agents? You know that no one is passing through here, even we decided to cross here on the fly, and they can anticipate our actions and set a trap here? We should save this man first, and as for his origin, we can wait until he wakes up to ask. ”

The big rider still disagreed, "Even if it's really an innocent traveler, he has nothing to do with us, or we let this man rot to death in the sand." Either we kill him and relieve his pain in advance, and by the way, we can replenish the provisions. Then we continued on our way. ”

Collar shook his head, his bandana swaying with the movement of his head. He looked at the female rider who was now on the horse and looked at the boy, and asked in a somewhat tired voice, "What do you say, Fatuma?"

"I said we saved this man. The female rider known as Fatoumah replied, her voice very young. "If you look closely, the material of his robes is anything but unusual, and only the nobles, and perhaps the Templars, use it. And have you noticed, he has a book around his waist, which is hard for anyone who can read and write? He might be able to exchange it for a ransom, or at least make us a slave to the account. ”

"He's human! Are you blind, or are you stunned by the sun and you didn't notice?" insisted the hunk rider. "Humans are cunning and untrustworthy, and it is not easy to get ransom. And their lifespan is too short and their bodies are too weak to be slaves. ”

"I said he deserved it, and it just so happened that I was the chief's daughter, and you could keep your good reasons in mind. Fatuma replied suddenly, firmly, and then she turned her head to look at the collar. "Father?"

The leader nodded, gesturing to the riders beside the boy. "Well, pull him out of the sand and take care of it. Act fast and don't delay. Fatoumah!"

The female rider nodded her head to acknowledge that she had heard it, and the leader continued. “...... Wait until he wakes up. You go and deal with it. ”

The riders pulled the boy out of the sand with a few strokes, and then the group disappeared into the desert without any pause, leaving only the open wilderness and the scorching wind.

When the boy woke up, it was already the next night.

His first feeling was cold. The temperature in the desert had dropped to a very low level at night, and two days had passed since the crossing, and he had not eaten anything, and hunger had led to weakness.

Immediately afterward, he noticed that he was not alone, and there were many figures walking back and forth not far away. There were also several improvised cloth tents made of some kind of animal bones and dead wood, and the tents had patches on them. There was also a fire in the sand, which seemed to be lit by piling up collected desert hay and livestock dung, and the smell was so terrible that it could be smelled from so far away. Around the fire, a group of people sat cross-legged in a circle, communicating in an unfamiliar language.

The young people are now using a language that is very unfamiliar, and they have never heard a word from the earth, but they are unexpectedly able to understand what they are communicating, which is a strange feeling. Maybe this was a side effect of the crossing, the boy thought to himself.

The riders were alert and immediately noticed that the boy had woken up, and one of the riders shouted "Fatoumah, your prey has woken up." The boy saw a girl standing up by the fire, striding towards him, dressed in a beige robe, with an Arabic turban on her head, and a somewhat disproportionately long scimitar at her waist. Her eyes were slender and her face was beautiful, and the boy was surprised to notice that her ears were pointed as her turban swayed with her steps.

The girl walked up to him, sat down cross-legged unceremoniously, and looked at him with interest.

The boy was uncomfortable stared at by her, but he didn't intend to speak first, just glared back. At last the girl seemed amused by his presumptuousness, and burst into laughter.

"It's funny, Ajibai Muhadi, no wonder you dare to go to the Arica Desert. The girl said with great interest, "Generally speaking, lone humans will be frightened when they encounter our elven nomadic tribe, begging us not to eat them, but you dare to stare at the chief's daughter presumptuously. I don't know if you're brave or crazy?"

The elf boy understood her words and was shocked.

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