Four seriously injured Grooms returned along with Carter. Of the last one, however, not even a body was recovered.
The horses were gone too, of course.
Word was that some horses had survived, but with injured legs, they wouldn't have lasted long and were abandoned deep in the mountains.
"When Carter's group ran into the wolf pack, he was the first to turn and flee. But he ended up tripping on a root and smashing his head on a rock..."
"What an undignified way to die."
"The guys who made it back said Carter was so scared he pissed his pants when he died..."
The Grooms gathered, whispering amongst themselves with a hint of schadenfreude in their voices.
Of course, no one knew the specifics of what had happened deep in the mountains.
Baron Duval had issued a strict gag order. Anyone who dared leak the news would be flogged—or even have their tongue cut out.
Even the slightest leak would be traced back to its source with severe punishments, and the person responsible would be physically silenced.
Bart sidled up to Murphy and lowered his voice. "Carter got what he deserved. I heard his father, the Sheriff, was dismissed and placed under investigation by Sylvan yesterday for 'failing to raise his son properly.'"
Murphy just grunted in response. 'My year is almost up,' he thought. 'I might be the next one sent to the Twilight Mountain Range.'
Sure enough, Miss Douglas appeared before the stables again.
She was completely unharmed and had changed into a daffodil-yellow satin dress. She wore a wreath of woven daisies on her head, her skirt hem was adorned with tiny Pearls, and she had on white stockings with new brown leather boots.
The exquisite outfit was yet another display of her astonishing wealth as a Great Noble.
Miss Douglas had come for one reason, of course: to select horses.
This time, only two Maids accompanied her, but two Plate Armor Knights still stood guard at her side.
Sylvan and Glen were also in attendance.
Sylvan's arm, however, was wrapped in bandages. His face showed a hint of exhaustion, yet he maintained a respectful posture.
The selection process began once more: six warhorses, eight packhorses, and six Grooms.
Murphy wasn't chosen this time, either, but a deeper sense of unease settled in his heart.
'I don't believe for a second that Miss Douglas's expedition will succeed this time,' he thought. 'Sooner or later, I'll be dragged into this.'
The next day, while Murphy was working in the stables, he overheard several Grooms talking in low voices.
"I hear they took another six warhorses. The communal stable is almost out of reserves."
"Yeah. A lot of them died in the border war. We just barely managed to replenish our stock, and now this... I have no idea what the higher-ups are thinking..."
"Well, it's for *that* young lady. I heard it has something to do with the Northern Trade Route, the one that was cut off during the war..."
As they chatted, the topic gradually shifted to the dangers of the journey.
Although no one dared to speak her name directly, their words betrayed their doubts about whether the esteemed lady's expedition could possibly succeed.
Those of lower status must not speak ill of their betters. This was a fundamental rule of survival in the castle.
When the discussion reached the dangerous parts, they all fell silent in unison, as if they had touched upon something taboo.
Hearing the word "danger," Murphy's heart skipped a beat.
The reward countdown for Option Two had five days left. It was like a sword hanging over his head, a constant reminder of the approaching danger.
'But the path of Cultivation is long,' he mused. 'Perhaps there's no need to rush.'
'Besides, the Immortal Cultivation System doesn't seem to have any penalties. What would happen if I just didn't complete the objective?'
'So why not just run away?'
The moment the thought appeared, it spread through Murphy's mind like wildfire through dry grass.
'That's right! If I run far enough away, not even Miss Douglas could force me to go to the damned Twilight Mountain Range, could she?'
'After all, even Knights with their superhuman strength couldn't protect everyone. Sylvan, Baron Duval's own eldest son, had even gotten hurt.'
'Actually, running away is too much trouble. I could just call in sick.'
'But on second thought, if there's a third selection, the number of Grooms calling in sick is bound to increase.'
'That plan won't work. Running away is the only option!'
'But would running away really solve anything?'
The Immortal Cultivation System wasn't omnipotent; it only gave Murphy a chance to advance.
To get the next reward, he would have to complete another objective and face a similar level of danger.
There's no such thing as a free lunch.
'Or maybe I should just ignore the system and muddle through life with my horse-tending skills?'
'After all, even without the system's knowledge, I can feel that my skill with horses has improved a lot over the past year. I'm much better than I was when I started.'
'In the future, I might be able to rely on my own ability to become an Upper-class Groom, then Chief Groom, and finally, the boss of all the Grooms—the Stable Master.'
However, an image flashed through Murphy's mind: Carter's servile posture as he was ordered around by everyone, and the humiliating sight of him being whipped by Leo.
Even kneeling and begging for mercy couldn't save the once-proud son of the Sheriff from a brutal, humiliating punishment.
The reason was simple: Carter had no skill and no power!
A powerful sense of indignation surged through Murphy.
He thought of his ordinary life before he'd crossed over, of the vast class divides he'd witnessed in the castle this past year.
'I already made up my mind when I saw Carter's pathetic state. I swore I'd succeed no matter how hard it was.'
'Why am I hesitating now out of fear?'
'Besides, the danger might not be as bad as I'm imagining. I completed the first objective without a hitch, didn't I?'
If he ran now, nearly a year of preparation would be wasted.
The path to Cultivation may be long, but if I don't seize every moment, I could die of old age, filled with a lifetime of regret.
At this thought, Murphy finally made his decision.
'No more running.'
'If Miss Douglas chooses me next time, I'll face it head-on.'
「The eighth day—the last day before the objective's reward was due.」
Three Grooms returned, all of them seriously injured. Of the other three, not a bone remained. The horses were gone, too.
The Grooms were too terrified to even speak of it.
Some tried to call in sick. Others pulled whatever strings they had. They tried everything they could think of to get out of duty today.
But it was all for naught. Under Baron Duval's strict command, not a single one of them succeeded.
Miss Douglas appeared before the stables yet again.
She was, as always, completely unharmed. She had changed into a lavender lace gown, her hair adorned with an Amethyst clasp. The hem of her skirt was embroidered with an intricate vine pattern, which she wore with white stockings and new, purple satin shoes.
This time, Murphy had no desire to admire the astonishing wealth befitting a Great Noble. Instead, his attention was keenly fixed on her entourage.
Only one Maid remained. The two Plate Armor Knights still stood guard at her side. Sylvan was absent, replaced by Baron Duval's second son, Moby.
Glen was still there, but his armor now bore several distinct marks of damage.
'Even a Knight can get injured. How can this third expedition possibly be safe?'
Murphy wasn't the only one who thought of it; the other Grooms did as well.
Their faces were all deathly pale, but they didn't dare show the slightest hint of resistance. They could only force themselves to stand in formation and await their fate.
Once again, six horses and six Grooms were chosen. Murphy was still not among them.
He couldn't help but wonder, 'Did I misjudge the pattern of the system's objectives?'
The other Grooms breathed a secret sigh of relief.
Just then, however, Moby spoke up. "Miss Douglas, why not select four more horses? I'm willing to offer four Knight's Attendants to go along."
Miss Douglas nodded lightly. "Very well."
A new round of selection began. This time, due to the lack of warhorses in the communal stable, they began choosing mounts for the followers. This naturally included their assigned Grooms: Walter, Jimmy, Tommy Han, and Yor.
When it came time to select Yor's Groom, the Stable Master hesitated for a moment between Hank and Murphy before finally pointing to Murphy.
Hank shot Murphy an apologetic glance, and Murphy more or less understood why.
It was simply a matter of connections.
Murphy was still new and had no connections in the castle, so naturally, he received no special treatment.
He didn't mind, however.
Since he had already resolved to face this trial, doing Hank a favor wasn't a problem.
Most importantly, when Murphy saw the Duval Family proactively sending their own followers—especially newcomers like Walter, the blacksmith's son, and Jimmy, another follower's son—he immediately realized this expedition must be a sure thing.
Otherwise, if it were truly a dangerous venture, there would be no reason to send rookies with limited abilities.
This selection was clearly about divvying up the credit.
It was far less dangerous than his prior analysis had suggested.
Of course, Murphy knew that while the followers might be safe, the same couldn't be said for a simple Groom like him.
It was just like with Hank. He surely knew the followers were just going along to get a piece of the glory and that the mission was very likely safe, but he still chose not to go.
Therefore, Murphy reminded himself that he absolutely could not let his guard down.
Yor was summoned and joined the group. When he saw Murphy leading his horse over, he clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry," he said. "This time, it's a sure thing."
Hearing even a seasoned old-timer like Yor say that, Murphy realized once again that this mission was indeed quite safe—at least for the followers.
But again, followers were followers, and Grooms were Grooms. The two were not, and never could be, equals.
The party set out for the Twilight Mountain Range.
Before departing, just as before, they led twelve packhorses from the communal stable. Ten were for Miss Douglas, the Knights, the followers, and the others to ride. Two pulled a flatbed cart loaded with supplies. The Grooms followed on foot, carrying miscellaneous provisions on their backs.
The warhorses were being led to conserve their stamina, to be used only at critical moments.
After walking for the better part of a day, a continuous mountain range appeared before them. They had arrived at the Twilight Mountain Range.
[Host has arrived at a new map.]
[Retrieving map of host's surrounding area...]
[Retrieval complete.]
[Host's current coordinates retrieved: Fallen Immortal Ridge.]