Sir Bill looked at the accountant and seemed to be holding back his anger. He said slowly, "How much do you know about these?"

"Damn!200 gold!I can give you and your entourage 200 gold more!" The accountant clutched his bag and shouted, "It's only half the way to get this dirt to Fort Hub, don't give up halfway!"

"I despise your broken money!" said Sir Bill, kicking the accountant over, and then explaining to everyone else, "This is not soil for fertilizer, but ore soil. Skilled masters are able to extract from this clay the strongest metal in the mortal world, pure gold. ”

"What's the use of you telling them this? It's dirt to them. The accountant struggled to sit up from the ground and wiped the blood from the corners of his mouth. "It doesn't make a difference between black, yellow, red mud, it's just sack after sack, you can make money to carry it, that's all. ”

"Don't let him talk nonsense. Siegel, give me a good look at him!"

So the squid stepped up with an arrow, drew the long whip from his waist, and threw it out with all his might. The whip slammed into the air with a loud thud and slammed into the mud next to the accountant's ass. The muddy water splashed everywhere, and the hard whip tip made a small hole in the ground.

"Don't let me practice using your whip with your mouth. Siegel threatened.

"Good. Sir complimented him rarely, and then turned to everyone and said, "Adamantite gold is extremely rare and very valuable. It only takes a few grams of adamantite gold to strengthen a dagger, and such a dagger will sharpen iron like clay. You're transporting a shipment of priceless goods, but it's not simple dirt. ”

"Yes...... But what can we do if we know?" a coachman covered the wound on his head, plucked up the courage to stand up and said, "We can only transport these things, and if we don't do the work, we will starve to death." ”

Sir Bill's chest heaved violently, he clenched his fists and closed his eyes in pain. What these people are saying is, what can they do if they know? Even if they know that these pure gold raw soil is a wealth that only the king of the pen deserves, they can only transport it as if it were mud, and they have no technology to refine it. At the same time, from powerful dwarven clans to mysterious elven kingdoms, mages in towers and priests in churches, they all have many means to find this cherished mineral deposit and collect it to craft powerful magical items. Even the good ones among them will only buy at a low price, and will not rob them, nothing more - but there are too few such cases.

Goblin robbers are not even a small trouble compared to those strong people.

Tiger Beal slowly let go of his hand and forced himself to calm down. He walked up to the accountant and stared him in the eye. Under his forced gaze, McKett tried to look away several times, but turned back in fear.

Sir pinched the accountant's chin and lifted him directly from the ground: "I will not ask for your reward, but I will divide the money among every coachman, and give it to their families if they are alive, and give it to their families if they are dead." Your master wants to use a trick to save money? But he wants to impose the risk on these innocent drivers, and it's too beautiful! I'll keep my promise to help him deliver this shipment, but then I'll settle the account with him!"

The accountant stuck out his tongue and nodded vigorously, he was afraid that he would be pinched to death like a little bug. Sir let him go, and although the accountant was the employer of the caravan, there were people above him who were in charge, and perhaps lords involved. Sir has a self-respecting identity, and he will only go to trouble those "old men", so there is no need to continue to toss this little chess piece. Accountant McCate hurriedly took out gold coins from his personal pocket and distributed them to the living coachman. Then the coachmen thanked them and happily hid the gold coins in what they thought were safe.

The accountant smiled flatteringly, and cautiously asked Sir Bill, "My lord, may we go?"

A promise is a promise, and the journey continues, and the caravan of two wagons is on the road again, making its way along the winding road. After another two days of trekking, they crossed the dense forest and entered a vast hill. There are no thick, low, twisted ghost trees, but some tall, tall and tall giant trees. The road was smooth and clear again, and their feet were no longer treading on the dirt mixed with rotten leaves, but the green grass that exuded a fresh fragrance.

It was a place full of life that brightened everyone's gloomy mood, and where a stream passed, Jazz told the group to stop for a short rest and lunch - everyone cheered.

Siegel is going to eat at the end, and he still has work to do. After examining each of the coachman's wounds, he was sent to fill all the water bladders. McCite wanted to reach out and help, so Siegel handed him three large leather bags.

"Thank you for your help. Siegel laughs and sends the accountant to fetch water so that he can listen to less nagging.

The cool water washed away the fatigue of the body, and the squid skillfully caught a few big fish with the "fishing net", and there was time to add food in the evening, and the coachmen applauded loudly. Only Sir frowned, looking southwest. Behind the tall woods of the hills, not far away is a continuous swamp of ghostly fog. There is a clear boundary between it and this golden jungle, and it is as clear as if it were two worlds. But Jazz knew that he could cross the line with a slight stride, and that the threat and tranquility were so close.

Moving on, the temperature gradually rose, and a sullen air always enveloped the caravan. It's because the Ghost Fog Swamp repels the heat that the sun gives to the earth and abandons it, so the area around the swamp is much hotter and humid than in other places. Luckily, everyone drank enough water and the donkeys were full, so they were able to hold on here. They climbed a few more low knolls, just then a strange howl rang out from the Swamp of the Ghost Mist.

Sir rode up the heights and tried to look into the swamp. After that strange howl, several more horns sounded. There was no sense of solemnity in the trumpet, but a bleak feeling of a dying wail. Sir rode back and shouted, "Run!"

Everyone got nervous and hurried on the road in the mule cart. The accountant took the initiative to throw all the saplings in a car on the ground to reduce the total load, and then he arranged for two drivers in each car to take turns driving, and he only needed to keep the pure gold soil. Siegel asked what the danger was, but Jazz didn't tell him.

"If they are caught up, they can't escape, and you and I can only fight to the death. Sir asked, "Are you afraid of death?"

"I'm afraid!" Siegel nodded, "but you have to fight to die." ”

"Good, you'll be a knight. ”

Soon, the scorching sun was gone, and the fog came up, wet and cold. I wasn't sure if it was the fog or the sweat, but everyone's hair was stuck to their foreheads. The intermittent sound of the horn always sounded behind him, and he followed the caravan with perseverance. Siegel looked behind him, and he felt the fog spin and twist, as if a monster was crawling out of it. A strong uneasiness rose from the bottom of his heart, and he involuntarily reached out and touched the scimitar, letting his skin feel the coldness of the metal, before slowly calming down.

They did not stop for a moment, running from noon to evening. The mules were almost overwhelmed, and they could only barely take a step, as if they were about to foam at the mouth. Not a single person in the caravan spoke, and everyone knew that this might be the most dangerous moment. The badly wounded coachman took out the gold coins given to him by the accountant from his bosom and handed them to his acquaintance. McKitt sighed, unloaded his backpack, leaving nothing on his body, ready to run in the lightest position possible.

"Don't speak!" sir," squired Sir lowly, "I hear the sound of horses' hooves ahead." ”

They stopped suddenly, and there was nothing more unfortunate than that. By this time the shadows of the night had come up, and the tall trees on both sides seemed to change their appearance in the darkness - they were like outstretched fingers, bending down and pressing down from the center from all sides, and the branches and leaves covered the sky like a cage, and clung to the poor caravan.

The sound of horses' hooves gradually approached, more and more, and gradually became clearer. It wasn't a horse traveling alone, it was a team. At this moment, the moonlight shone from the tips of the trees, and the stars in the sky seemed to shine suddenly, and the cool night breeze drove away the cold and wet air. Under this halo, the fog quickly dissipated, and the trees on both sides returned to a vivid, upright posture.

The sound of the horn behind him fled quickly, mixed with anger, remorse, and helpless sighs.

A group of knights came from the front of the group, and then slowed down slowly, the moonlight and stars shining on their shoulders. They all rode silver-white horses and wore pale green soft armor. Long silky hair and pointed ears peek out from the helmet, and bright, piercing eyes radiate like stars. It's a team of elves.

The cavalry surrounded the ranks, and their caravan of horses marched like a cloud, and swept past them like a breeze. Sir took off his helmet and raised his hand, "We are a caravan bound for Fort Hub, may I ask which elven team is on the other side?"

"Bill?" a voice sounded, and a knight left the group and stopped in front of Jazz's horse. The elf took off his helmet, and saw only a pair of smiling eyes and a beautiful face, indescribably beautiful. "It's a pleasure to see you again, old friend. ”

"Leah! long time no see. Jazz smiled happily. The two men jumped off their horses, stretched out their right hands, and patted each other's palms in greeting. Sir said, "You have come at the right time, and we are almost in a desperate situation." ”

"It's not been peaceful lately, and the Ghost Mist Swamp has moved two miles north. The elf replied, "Don't let you stand here, please come and rest in our campsite, it's still safe." ”

Everyone relaxed, mustered up the last strength and moved on. Soon, they left the road and entered the tall woods. It was obviously an impassable forest, but when the truck approached, it found that the ground was still flat and the distance between the trees was wide. Siegel looked around in disbelief, convinced that his eyes and common sense seemed to have been fooled.

The moonlight shone on their heads all the time, and the elves were silent, but everyone was not worried at all. Soon, they came to the top of the hills, where there were no trees, just an open meadow, and some wild flowers dotted the grass, swaying in the starlight, giving off a faint fragrance. Two large white stones lay on the top of the hill, one lying on the ground, smooth and flat like a table, and the other towering beside it, polished like a silver mirror.

A flame burned out of thin air from the center of the table-like stone, emitting a soft glow and warm heat. "Come on!" the elf beckoned to everyone, "rest here." ”