Collaboration

It took the entire morning before Richard managed to walk out of his room. Gathering a few desert warriors, he brought Olar and Phaser along and left Bluewater Oasis, hastening towards the Red Cossack camp.

10 kilometres away from the slave camp, he came to a stop. The information he’d gotten from his friends told him this was the furthest the camp’s sentinels would patrol. He waited patiently until night fell, sending out the enhanced elite bats. They circled the sky above the slave camp, using their night vision to give him a clear understanding of the camp’s defensive layout.

This was an enormous camp, with nearly 8,000 imprisoned slaves. There was an army of 500 watching over them, with a stable not far away. Interactions between two guards as well as the routes of the patrols gave him an estimate of about three hundred cavalrymen guarding the outer perimeter. His robbing that second-class caravan had caused them to strengthen their defences for a while.

Having figured out the situation, Richard silently left and returned to Bluewater. When he knocked on Amon’s door, it was already late into the night. The old man was still at the grocery store, running his ordinary little shop. Foreigners would not be able to tell that this wizened old man was someone who could influence the entire oasis.

Seeing that it was Richard at the door, Amon was slightly surprised. However, he didn’t say anything as he allowed the mage to enter. A few moments later, he brought over a pot of tea and a plate of refreshments, pouring two cups and sitting calmly in front of Richard as he waited for a reason for the visit.

For his part, Richard did not hesitate, “I’ll be obtaining a batch of slaves soon, and I need my hands off them as soon as possible.”

“How many, and which race?” Amon asked without a change in expression.

“A little more than 8,000. Nearly 4,000 each of desert people and dwarves, with a few hundred wild elves, dark elves, and barbarians. The elves and barbarians aren’t males.”

Amon gazed at Richard with profound meaning in his eyes, “You are too anxious.”

“It’s a lack of confidence,” Richard answered calmly, “If we can work together, I’ll be 80% confident. We can’t just act when we’re merely 10% confident, can we?”

“80%? You really are quite self-confident,” Amon chuckled, “But it’s a good thing for young people to be confident. I’ll take it as… 60%. Do you need Lord Rolf’s support?”

“Yes,” Richard nodded, “Red Cossack has two saints. While they’re not from the Bloodstained Lands, it’s hard enough for me to deal with one right now.”

Amon took a small sip of black tea and said gently, “Contending against saints is no small matter. Have you prepared enough?”

“We can split Red Cossack halfway. It should be worth the cost.”

“Indeed, that’s not small,” Amon muttered to himself. But then, he slowly continued, “The worth of battles between saints cannot be measured in gold. Victory is often more important, so Lord Rolf might be very careful in considering this.”

Richard immediately understood what Amon was getting at. The two saints in charge of Red Cossack were the same as Rolf, level 16. It was hard to say who would win even in a one-on-one matchup. Amon was implying that he wasn’t confident in Rolf’s chances against them. If the Sword Saint lost, then Richard would have even fewer chances of victory against them. Rolf likely wouldn’t want to step into these murky waters, regardless of how much Richard had on offer.

However, Richard only wanted Rolf to stall the Red Cossack saints. He had quite a few spellcasters on his side, making it a powerful army based on Faelor’s standards. The clerics’ buffs on Rolf would make him so powerful the enemy would be ashamed. On the other hand, all sorts of curses would assault the enemies, forcing them to use more energy. On top of all this, the Sword Saint had bought a rune from him before; unless the opponents were two levels higher, they were bound to lose. Flowsand’s Lens of Time, in particular, could grant a definite kill if she was successful.

But he obviously couldn’t go about revealing his trump cards; he had far too many secrets that nobody knew of. He would never show all of his cards when making a deal. Thankfully, there were other methods. He lifted the teacup and drank a mouthful, “Mr. Kellac already has a new religion. He has decided to forge ahead by my side, and I will help him fulfill the wishes he has held for so many years.”

Amon startled. This information was out of his expectations and reminded him that backing Richard was a new demigod.

No, the fact that Kellac had already converted implied that this existence was only a step away from igniting their godfire, becoming a true deity. Right now, he was likely condensing a divine domain. With a backer like that, it was no wonder that Richard had the guts to attack the violent Red Cossack.

Kellac had been a good friend of Amon’s for many years. That was exactly why Richard had used him right at the start. “It’s great that he found a new faith,” the old man muttered to himself, “but he doesn’t have many years left. He probably cannot be of much help to you.”

Richard smiled lightly, “He’s actually doing quite well now. It won’t be an issue for him to live another two decades.”

“What?!” Amon was shocked, “That’s impossible! I know his situation well. Even if he has the divine power of a new god poured into him, it will only extend his life by two or three years!”

“He will return in a few days. You’ll know his situation when you see him.” Richard put the cup down, tossing out his second card without any hurry, “If Lord Rolf is willing to pay a certain price, and he trusts me enough, I can help him overcome his enemies.”

*Crash!* The teacup in Amon’s hands fell to the ground, shattering into bits. The old man still hadn’t recovered from the surprise about Kellac’s lifespan, and this shock had left him without control of himself.

His experience told him that the entity backing Richard had to be something incredible. The boy’s words surprised him so greatly that he did not even have the time to bother with the shattered cup or his damp robes. His voice shook slightly as he asked, “Do you mean… Your ‘rune’ can help Lord Rolf jump levels?”

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