"Yob-tvoyu-mat!" the lead rider scolded in some language unfamiliar to Muhadi, a half-elf - or half-human, depending on how you look - a professional guard.

The shoes of the half-elf are of good texture, the Chasik saber is trimmed with silver ornaments, and his kancha dagger, the workmanship of the belt. His belt buckle was a blue enamel wolf's head, and his breastplate was the shell of a digging worm, which only the wealthy could afford.

The men who were rebuked by the half-elves were his men, and there were eight of them, all of whom were guards hired by the great merchant Fovard. Psychic warlocks were familiar with this kind of people, warriors of nomadic origin, who despised death and despised farmers or craftsmen...... All the tribal warriors preferred to consider themselves nobles, although they had to work on their own.

"I don't think we should take this job. The scolded man retorted. "It's too time-consuming, I have to go home to spend time with my wife!"

"Your wife has her son's fifty wild fathers to take care of, so you don't have to worry about it!" the half-elf scolded back again, causing a burst of laughter, and the man stopped talking.

The great merchant Fovard arranged a plan to sneak Muhadi out of Tyre, and he had the Psychic Warlock disguise himself as a merchant and blend in with a caravan of a trading family. The Witch King Karak had a conflict with the other Witch Kings and went out of the city to deal with it, and Muhathir seized the opportunity to escape.

No one came after him, and Karak himself did not appear. The Psychic Warlock did not doubt that the Witch King could have predicted his escape, but did he prophesy that he would be captured? If not, then Muhadi was safe, absolutely safe, because the Witch King's prophecy was absolutely correct.

After escaping from Tyre, the Psychic Warlock headed in the direction of the Hall of Dust. With a few Palesans still a few days away from his destination, he ordered his retinue to stop and wait, and he went into the ruins of the ancient structure to search by himself.

Lyra is not here, and Muhadi regrets that the Six Souls Psychic Warlock seems to be out. The ruins were full of ghosts, and there was no smell of the living.

The Psychic Warlock returned in vain, and after a little thought, he decided to change direction and head towards another area.

Now, if they had not encountered sandstorms or other bad weather conditions common to Athas, their group would have arrived in the city of Nibenai in half a month, given the direction and degree of their advance.

The city of Nibenai is named after its ruler, the Shadow King Nibenai. He is the apprentice of the primordial warlock Rajat, who is best at illusion spells, and one of Karak of Tyre. The city is smaller and less bustling than Tyre. Two of Muhadi's old acquaintances, Hediche and Raina, are from the city.

But the purpose of the Psychic Warlock choosing to go in this direction is not to reminisce. In this day and age, it is impossible for him to meet those two people. The reason he decided was that he hoped that Karak would not appear too close to the city of Nibenay, so that he could calmly escape far enough to escape to the halfling ruins near Ram.

After he went, Muhati had no clue what to do. The space-time gate is still there, but who can guarantee that you will be able to travel to the future more than a decade later?

A larger question also haunted him at this time, and according to the prophecy of the Witch King, he would eventually give in and speak of the dangers ahead. If this is true, then what's the point of escaping Tyr?

The hired guards didn't know what was going on in Muhadi's mind, they just thought the merchant was weird. The sudden change of direction towards the city of Nibenai made them complain even more, and the previous quarrel was caused by this time.

Desert peoples are generally strong and resilient, but they still have to rest and eat. By this time, the dark sun was about to sink into the sea of sand, and the guards began to prepare to set up camp.

The leading half-elf caught a sand snake, about three feet long, with scales like copper plates, and a triangular head. His men lit a fire out of horse manure and carefully roasted the snake by the fire.

It's not enough distance to roast the snake, but it's enough to make it wilt. Seeing that the snake was almost roasted, the half-elf took it away from the fire, tied a rope around its tail, and let the snake go.

The sand snake that had been roasted by the fire was so thirsty that it instinctively crawled to a place where there was water when it was free. The half-elf and his men followed the snake to the leeward side of a sand dune, where they dug and dug where the snake had burrowed into the sand. About three or four feet of sand were peeled away, revealing moist soil underneath, and then water seeped out.

After finding a source of water, the half-elf and his men chose to camp on the spot.

These people are not bad regulars who cross the desert, and they are quick in their movements, and they are top players at a glance. They unloaded the canopy and blankets from their mounts, and soon set up three or four tents in a circle. The nights in the desert are very cold, and they take on a completely different desolation from the daytime. Therefore, if you spend the night in the desert, you must spread a blanket on the ground, otherwise you may freeze to death.

As a psychic man, Muhadi could read the thoughts in the minds of these men—they were secretly planning to kill themselves and take their fortune.

It was not uncommon for these guards to have such thoughts, and the Psychic Warlock was alone and did not show any personal strength, making him seem to be an easy target to deal with. What's more, he looks like he's worth a lot of money, and he's simply the most rational prey imaginable by the sand bandit gang.

However, the gang is not going to do it now. They hoped to walk for a few more days, when they were farther away from Tyre, and no one would break their good show. Moreover, they are still waiting for another group of companions, who will disguise themselves as robbers and attack some nobles with magical or psionic objects that can transmit messages, so even if they turn their faces and rob, they must make a prey as much as possible so that they do not know who they died at the hands of before they die.

Muhati did not stop these people from thinking so, and even indulged them in their dreams of a little wealth. With the current strength of the Psychic Warlock, it would be easy to pack up a dozen warriors, even if they found helpers.

Originally, the Psychic Warlock had planned to kill them all. He didn't want to leak his tracks, not to mention that the more repercussions he left in this era, the more unpredictable the consequences would be for the future world. These people actually wanted to rob him, so it was just right for him to do it, and it also lightened some of the burden.

According to al-Muhadi's speculation, at the current level, turn around as he approaches the city of Nibenai and then head towards the halfling ruins on the shore of the Salt Sea. This journey will take at least three months, if not in terrible weather. Thinking of this, the Psychic Warlock couldn't help but find it very tricky.

Maybe I can make my own hot air balloon, like Khora Mi?' thought Muhadi.

But this idea, the probability of realization is low. First of all, the Psychic Warlock doesn't have as many ingredients as Khwarazmi. The latter's manned balloon taffeta alone used up tens of thousands of square feet and was hand-sewn by 200 weavers. Secondly, he does not have the corresponding professional skills. To be honest, he didn't have a clue how to open the balloon.

A more convenient way to ride a balloon is to sit on a magic carpet or use teleportation spells. But both methods faced the same problem - Muhadi did not know magic, and he could not find a magician who he believed in. So in the end, he had to use the most traditional method to get to the ruins - by horseback.

That night, the Psychic Warlock slept soundly. The guards with bad intentions took turns keeping vigil, and there was nothing unusual about it.

The second day and the third day were equally peaceful, the sun scorched the earth, and the journey was long and tiring. Muhathir remembers when he hadn't become a psychic mancer and that riding his butt and thighs hurt, but now he doesn't.

Once, when the Psychic saw dust rising from the sky, he thought it was the helper of his guards. But soon he realized that this was not the case, and the half-elf man's expression was as surprised as he was.

It was a medium-sized caravan with a dozen dromedaries and about the same number of horses, but no shell beetles. Its defenses were weak, with only about four or six guards guarding the caravan.

Anyone who can recognize at a glance what the main cargo of this caravan is.

Walking in the center of the caravan was a long line of ragged, unkempt slaves. Their heads are tangled and knotted, their skin is blackened by the sun, one moment they roar fiercely, the next they are obscene and cowardly, like a pack of wild beasts.

It was a slave hunting team consisting of fugitive hunters and slave traders. They often don't have a fixed organization, they just happen to walk together, so they can't afford to hire extra guards, and they rely only on numbers to scare off the guys' enemies. Sometimes, self-financed traders join such caravans, otherwise crossing the desert alone would be almost like suicide.

These slaves were captured fugitives and were therefore treated in the worst possible terms. They were put on wooden collars around their necks, and they didn't even look at the road, and they stumbled and walked...... No matter who these fugitives were to each other, and how many sentimental promises they made to each other, the only sympathy they had between them was now consumed by the desert. They push and shove, yelling and blaming each other when they take a wrong step.

To ensure this, the fugitive hunters chained the poor creatures in a string. If the slaves make a mistake, they will drag others and strangle them. As soon as the team stopped, they were whipped overhead, and their hearts were full of anger, fear, and despair, and they had to vent on each other.

The most unruly slaves will be moved to the front of the line. In this position, the fugitive hunter circled the slave like a vicious wasp, and ordered the slave to add with a whip. Whoever in the group started to shake, the shackles around the neck of the slave who walked at the front would be pulled by the chains, leaving shocking blisters and bruises on the neck.

The caravan was filled with slaves half male and half female, elves and humans, and even the Muors. Apparently, the owners of the caravan intended to transport the slaves to Tyre and sell them for a good price. But these slaves slowed down their progress and forced them to rest and rehydrate in the oasis often.

The leading half-elves felt that this caravan was a good target. There are not many guards, and if you use the terrain to ambush, the first wave of attacks can shoot four or five people, and then rush up, and eighty percent can easily kill those incompetent merchants.

Admittedly, they already have a prey in their hands, but when a new dessert is offered, these people will not refuse. The half-elves and his subordinates together felt that this was feasible. Then, symbolically, they came to ask the psychic man's opinion.

The half-elf had already made up his mind that if Muhadi refused, he would promise to share the proceeds of the robbery with him. Unexpectedly, after listening to his brief description of the situation, Muhathir did not raise the slightest objection and readily agreed.

Muhati wanted to see for himself how powerful these thieves were who had their own ideas, lest they would not be able to cope with self-defeating in the future. Also, it's not bad to free a few slaves.

With that, the Half-Elf Leader began to let go and prepare for his attack.

In order to escape the scorching sun, the caravan chose a tortuous route and walked along the shady side of the large sand dunes. The half-elf and his eight companions lay in ambush at the top of the dune, dismounted and held their breath. Their horses seemed to know the intentions of their masters, and fell down obediently.

This is not an ideal position to charge, as the sand on the leeward side of the dunes is too soft for horses to gallop. If you rush to charge, you are likely to lame the horse's leg. But apparently the guards of the caravan thought the same thing, and they barely scouted this side, which gave the half-elves a surprise advantage.

When the entire caravan completely leaked out of its weakened flanks, the battle suddenly erupted, and the half-elves roared out.

The wolves, Muhadi thought, howled like bloodthirsty wolves, a roar from the depths of their hearts, filled with a thirst for battle. Desert men are brave and fearless by nature, bloodthirsty and good at fighting, and are excellent warriors. But they are not good soldiers, they are unruly, lack discipline, and often do not obey orders. Muhadi knew this when he was training his army in Tyre.

The guards of the caravan heard the roar and roared back, and the bloody hand-to-hand battle began.

No singer will sing about the battle, no historian will leave a few words about the battle in the thick books, no flags flying, no deafening pre-war speeches. But this insignificant desert encounter did have a profound impact on the fate of Attas.

At this time, the people who are fighting are completely unaware that they are engaged in a far-reaching battle. The attackers swooped down with their backs to the scorching sun, and the caravan guards could not see the faces of the attackers, staggering at the foot of the dunes, held back by quicksand and rubble.

The half-elves and their men bent their bows and arrows on their horses. The first caravan escort to rush up was shot in the eyebrow by an arrow, and lay on his back on his horse, dying. "Assemble!" the guards shouted, "All take arms!" As the words fell, a second arrow from the half-elf pierced his throat.

Most slave traders only had long whips, or short knives. Although they rode horses, they did not become horse warriors, but only slave traders on horseback. The attackers skillfully controlled their own mounts and kept their distance from them, killing them one by one with a short recurve cavalry bow.

The scorching sun hung high above the sky like a tyrant reigning over all things, watching the slaughter in the desert, the air distorted and shaken by the scorching, and it was impossible to see clearly.

Muhadi did not participate in the charge, he rode his horse independently of the top of the dune, observing the shape of the battle. His appearance made the caravan men mistake him for the leader of the attackers, and they rushed to attack.

A Muer armed with an obsidian prisoner of war bullied Muhadi, wielding a two-handed axe and unleashing a terrifying war cry. The Muir have the advantages of being dwarves and humans at the same time, with great strength and energy. Instead of choosing a strong opponent, Muhadi pulled the reins and dodged half of his body with his superb horsemanship. Taking advantage of the enemy's puff into the air, he plunged an ordinary scimitar into the back of the Moor.

An arrow burst through the air, and Muhadi grabbed it, his palm grinding out blood from the rough shaft. He looked in the direction the arrow was coming from, and the attacker was a caravan guard. The half-elf rode close to him, cut his bowstring with a dagger, and plunged into his opponent's eye socket to kill him. Despite the distance, Muhathir could still see the look of confusion on the half-elf's face. Obviously, the other party has also been paying attention to the movements of the Psychic Warlock during the battle.

The battle was almost over, and most of the caravan's guards had been shot. Few of the slave traders were left alive. Muhadi saw an unlucky merchant whose horse had been shot dead and took a scimitar and tried to return fire. But the half-elves all kept their distance on their horses, and teased him with a cat-and-mouse attitude, leaving wounds on the poor man without killing him completely.

The chained slaves were stunned by the battle, and they fell to their knees, shivering, completely unaware of the fate of the sudden attackers.

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P.S. I've had a hand injury these days, so the update amount has been reduced, and I'll recover later.

This novel is a dnd novel, and although dnd is a game, you can find most of the celebrities in the book in the canon. But when I was writing, I tried to remove the influence of the game system and make it more realistic. Otherwise, the novel can easily become a repetition of constantly playing monsters under dungeons, rather than a real adventure.

How to express different abilities and alien races is also a big challenge for me. If you can't write features, then the different levels of abilities are just a different name. It doesn't matter if you call him Fireball, Big Fireball, Big Fireball, or whatever cool title you have, the essence is the same. Although I have dabbled in many theological theories of psychology and physics, I would not have written them without a good representation of them. Rather than reluctantly writing them out, treat them as experience packs with cool names.

Starting with the third volume of this book, the map will be greatly expanded, and readers who like the background of magic ships can look forward to it.

For mobile phone users, please go to M. to read.

Tips: The new domain name "biquge.info" has been launched by Biquge, and the original domain name is about to be discontinued. Please tell each other, thank you!