Chapter 34: Tracking

Wade slung the deerskin pack over his back and began his trek across the icy plains.  

The sunrise and sunset allowed him to discern directions. He headed south; beyond that was the icy sea. To the west were mountain ranges, and to the east lay forests. None of the west, east, or north sides seemed to have any roads, so he chose to move southward in search of signs of the villagers.  

To keep up with the villagers as much as possible, Wade would periodically send Mia flying high into the sky to scout the land from above.  

Time passed swiftly, and evening arrived.  

The clouds were stained red by the setting sun, and distant mountain ranges stretched endlessly.  

Wade stood still, waiting for Mia to descend.  

The little one floated down like a feather through the clouds.  

She pointed in a direction—there was something over there.  

Not people, but something seemingly related to them.  

Following Mia’s guidance, Wade advanced. Before the sun set, he found—well, a pile of dung.  

It was probably cow or sheep droppings. Wade poked it a few times with a branch and saw undigested dry grass inside.  

Nearby, he found natural snow moss and a small grove. Walking into the woods, Wade came upon a clearing where charcoal from a campfire lay.  

A large group had stayed overnight here; there were chewed sheep bones on the ground. They had slaughtered a few sheep, using the meat to fill their stomachs.  

Most likely, these were the migrating villagers. It seemed he was heading in the right direction.  

On the mossy ground, Wade noticed wheel tracks.  

That night, he continued traveling, following the direction of the tracks.  

Without feeling the need to rest, he pressed on without pause.  

Night and day made no difference to him; he was very accustomed to darkness.  

Monsters in the snowy wasteland were pitifully few, and he encountered no obstacles on his path.  

Creatures like goblin trolls could not adapt to the cold environment.  

The more common monsters on the snowfield were winter wolves and ice bears, but even they were only relatively common. As apex predators, winter wolves and ice bears each had their own territory where they hunted and generally would not leave their fixed areas.  

So traveling across the snowfield rarely meant danger.  

However, if you met frost giants or white dragons, then you could only count yourself unlucky.  

Only professional warriors could deal with such monsters, and it had to be a senior professional team. For ordinary people encountering frost giants or white dragons, survival chances were close to zero.  

Wade felt his luck was still pretty good. He had been walking for two days, and besides birds in the sky and a few distant wild deer, he hadn’t seen any other monsters.  

At midnight on the second day, he found another used campsite.  

Among the villagers were the elderly, weak, women, and children. To care for those less physically capable, they traveled slowly.  

What Wade could cover in two days might take them four or five days.  

At this pace, he was close to catching up.  

Sure enough, on the morning of the third day, Mia found the migrating villagers on the move.  

Wade set down his deerskin pack and climbed to the top of a black pine.  

On the vast snowy plain, he saw small black dots in the distance—the villagers herding sheep, several ox carts carrying wooden crates.  

Following them meant no fear of losing direction. The locals definitely knew the way.  

Wade kept a certain distance behind the villagers, not rashly making contact. These Tanians, who had just suffered trauma, surely still remained cautious.  

The Vikings had ravaged their village. Suddenly, here was a strange outsider, mute no less, wanting to join their group—it was natural for them to be suspicious.  

Better to follow from behind. Wade just hoped they would help guide him.  

He maintained about a three to four kilometer distance. The villagers moved slowly, so he had to slow his pace as well.  

Wade quietly followed all day. At noon on the second day, an unexpected situation arose.  

Wade had been resting on a hillside but stood up when a group of silver figures dashed across the icy plain, leaving paw prints.  

Winter wolves were approaching the villagers.  

Were these wolves out hunting?  

But their number seemed a bit small—only five or six wolves. Wade recalled that the “Adventurer’s Handbook” he had picked up secondhand that year said wolf packs had at least ten wolves.  

Well, handbook content might not always be accurate.  

Better to rely on actual conditions. In any case, those wolves appeared to have taken the villagers as prey. With the large flock driving the sheep, they were too conspicuous, so it was understandable the wolves were targeting them.  

Winter wolves were truly extraordinary creatures with frost breath. They hunted in packs and could kill their prey with extreme freezing frost.  

Though far less dangerous than frost giants or white dragons, they still posed a deadly threat to ordinary people.  

Wade slung his pack, drew his bow, and moved down the hillside.  

If the villagers could handle the wolves themselves, that was best. If not, he didn’t mind helping by shooting a few arrows.  

He felt they were close to the nearest town. No village, no matter how remote, would be so isolated that it took ten days or more to reach the next town to buy supplies.  

The village had everything needed: iron hoes, pitchforks, patterned cloth crafts, and pottery—all things Wade had seen inside their homes.  

This was not a druid tribe in a deep mountain forest; they traded with the outside world and likely weren’t far from a town.  

He would shoot two arrows for them here, then figure out the direction himself.  

By the way, he didn’t even have a single copper coin on him.  

Villagers didn’t need to be told; even the dumbest would remember to take their money when they left. Since they had time to pack, they surely wouldn’t forget their coins.  

Those pirates were all clever. In the public area of the sled, aside from shared food and armor, no one left money on the sled.  

How could one be without money while traveling?  

Perhaps this was a chance to charge the villagers a small fee.  

After all, he saved that village; asking for some money wasn’t unreasonable.  

An adventurer who offered help without expecting anything raised suspicion. But if he charged a fee, that was a different story.  

That settled it.  

Wade nodded and let Mia slip into his helmet.  

The little ghost turned into a mist, seeping through the iron helmet’s crevices, then reformed inside the armor.  

She listened well to Wade, quietly sitting on his shoulder, hugging his neck without a sound.  

So, a ragged “wandering knight” carrying a bulging deerskin pack walked along the wheel tracks behind the ox carts.  

Wade, alongside the winter wolves, was closing in.  

When he could see the villagers on the plains, one winter wolf had already pounced on a sheep, tossing it aside.  

That wolf bit through the sheep’s throat, tearing at it with a crazed hunger.  

This startled the villagers greatly; the sheep and the villagers all erupted into chaos, making the scene quite chaotic for a time.