Chapter 16: Return Journey

The journey back didn't seem so long with everyone in such good spirits. Along the way, no traces of magical beasts were spotted.

When the group, laden with their full haul of prey, reached the camp, they were spotted by the sharp-eyed soldiers from within the camp, even through the trees. Seeing the morning expedition return so quickly, the soldiers couldn't help but burst into cheers. Some even left their posts, rushing toward Shaoke's group. However, the strict captain quickly stopped this irrational behavior, grabbing a few and giving their backsides a few hard kicks. He loudly berated them, ignoring their grumbling, and ordered them back to their posts. He warned that if such a situation occurred again, those who violated the rules would face corporal punishment.

Amid the soldiers' cheers, the physicians soon emerged from their tents. The Elder Physician briefly scanned the returning group and smiled slightly, not feeling it was a bad thing that he hadn't had the chance to treat any injuries this time. The young physician, however, lacked his father's composure. He quickly ran toward the group, disregarding formalities to offer his thanks and congratulations to the mages.

"Oh! Honorable Mages, welcome back. Dear Captain, please stop kicking those poor lads' backsides, or they'll have to sleep on their stomachs tonight. Hey, lads! I hope those nasty magical beasts didn't bite your poor backsides off! I don't want to slather ointment on your stinky behinds. Honestly, my advice is you should cover them with something, even a thin sheet of iron would do. Oh heavens! I knew it... I knew you wouldn't bring back even a little medicinal supply for this poor soul. Look at you, Imperial soldiers! What have you been doing? Such fine uniforms shouldn't be stained with those filthy pelts. My ingredients, yes, these white ones are ingredients. Quick, take them to my tent. I need to process them quickly before they lose too much potency. Otherwise... otherwise, I won't help you deal with these bloody pelts."

The young physician, with an excited expression, weaved among the returning soldiers, occasionally patting one on the shoulder or another on the back, sometimes even embracing those soldiers laden with what he called "filthy pelts." The soldiers, in turn, embraced this cheerful physician again and again.

Some soldiers seized the chance to tease him: "Physician Ino, we made a bet on the way. We knew, we just knew you'd try to claim our hard-earned tusks. See!" Another soldier chimed in: "Physician Ino, for these pristine tusks, you'll have to work hard on tanning these pelts. You get a share, after all." A third added: "And this time, the Honorable Mages didn't claim any of the spoils. So, cheer up, Physician Ino!"

The young physician approached Shaoke and the others again, this time performing a proper salute before expressing his gratitude: "Respected Mages, I am glad for your safe return. Thank you for looking after these poor lads."

Witnessing such an emotional scene, though not for the first time and certainly not the last, still moved Shaoke somewhat. He responded to the physician: "Thank you for your kind words, Physician Ino. It was our duty. Besides, the soldiers handled everything themselves this time; I didn't have to intervene."

"I hope Lord Mage Xueye never has to intervene. That would mean the situation had already turned very bad," the physician said, a slight unease flickering across his cheerful face.

Meanwhile, Mage Kiya, who had been following alongside, noticed his companion, Mage Yija, hanging his head. His golden hair covered his delicate face, and his slender fingers gripped his staff tightly, the knuckles turning pale.

"Physician Ino, the soldiers are waiting for you to handle the spoils. Those pelts still need your attention. Can you bear to leave your father to do all that work alone? Oh, and please tell the soldiers to bring us some lunch later. No one has had time to eat lunch yet. I'll come find you later to see how you process those pelts and how it differs from our methods," Mage Kiya said, hoping the physician would leave so he could properly console the deeply troubled Mage Yija.

Seeing that Mage Kiya was intentionally asking him to leave, the physician understood the mages had some private matters to discuss. He tactfully excused himself, expressing welcome for Mage Kiya's later visit. However, as he left, he couldn't help but mutter: "I'm not afraid of you, and I'm not your servant. You have no right to order me around, let alone command me to relay messages about lunch. But I know you mages can't handle long marches well. Considering your physique, the kind and helpful Eno will still assist you."

At this point, Shaoke also noticed Mage Yija's state. "If we don't resolve his failure in his first real spellcasting attempt soon, it might significantly impact his upcoming missions. Hmm, why didn't I console him earlier on the road? Damn, I was distracted. But I'm not a nanny! Nor a psychologist. I'm just a small, pitiful first-rank mage who can't find his way back. I'd rather face a third-rank magical beast alone... or maybe a second-rank one. A third-rank would finish me off effortlessly. How annoying. Let's eat first."

Upon returning to their tent, Shaoke decided to have lunch first and think about how to advise the deeply distressed Mage Yija. However, once inside the tent, Mage Yija simply sat in his designated seat, silently twirling his staff and occasionally tugging at the high collar of his robe, as if trying to hide something.

Mage Kiya cast a pleading look at the mage who had been here for two years, unsure how to comfort his companion in this state.

Seeing this, Shaoke had no choice but to steel himself and nod, signaling for the other not to worry—he could handle it. "Looks like I need to be more forceful with him. I've already advised and said all that can be said. If a mage can't overcome this kind of psychological hurdle, perhaps he shouldn't be a mage at all. Maybe... maybe being a low-rank alchemist would be better!"

With that thought, Shaoke pulled off his cloak, revealing his long, straight black hair. His ordinary robe, paired with an average, pale face, made him easily forgettable to those who didn't know him well. Perhaps only his constantly shifting, special, nearly-promoted energy signature in his dark eyes left a deeper impression.

"Look at me. Look into my eyes, Mage Yija. Lift your head. Haven't I said it before? A mage's head is never bowed, no matter the enemy or difficulty. Lift your head and look into my eyes! Mage Yija!" Shaoke abandoned his usual calm tone, shouting at Mage Yija.

After a brief struggle, Mage Yija slowly raised his head, meeting the gaze of the mage who was loudly berating him. Seeing him look up and meet his eyes, Shaoke couldn't help but sigh in relief. It seemed there was still hope.

"Mage Yija, what are you worried about? Wasn't there a legendary mage tens of thousands of years ago who couldn't successfully cast a first-rank spell until he was over forty? Yet he eventually became a legend, a lofty thirteenth-rank legend. What did he rely on? I'm sure you've read his biography—there's no doubt about it. He kept practicing. Even though he couldn't cast first-rank spells, he persistently cast zero-level spells. You could say those zero-level spells became instinctual to him. He mastered over three hundred zero-level spells! Wasn't it the spellcasting experience accumulated from these spells that led to his success? Those who looked down on him, those who mocked him—didn't they all die before him? And he lived for over ten thousand years." Shaoke also abandoned the elegance of a mage, revealing his previous life's nature, gesturing animatedly with his staff to emphasize his words.

"Of course, I'm not saying Physician Ino is mocking you. He doesn't know what happened. Can't you learn from those mages who successfully reached the legendary rank? Don't be nervous when casting spells. You should trust those brave soldiers. They will always stand in front of you, until you no longer need them, or until they precede you in death. In battle, you only need to do one thing: at the right time, choose the right spell, chant the correct incantation, perform the proper meditation and gestures, and finally, lock onto your chosen target. All of this is done while you are safe. Once you've accomplished all that, congratulations—you've saved those brave soldiers, sparing them unnecessary sacrifice. This is what you and Mage Kiya must do from now on."

Shaoke paused briefly, feeling he should add more encouraging words. But after thinking for a moment, he couldn't come up with anything else. For a while, only Mage Yija's slightly heavy breathing filled the tent. Mage Kiya also sat restlessly, watching his companion, hoping he would be stronger and not dwell on the morning's events. He opened his mouth several times to speak but stopped for some reason. Shaoke paid him no mind now. He had said all he could; the rest was up to the individual. No one else could help further. After all, this wasn't a material difficulty. In this world, only archmages, when their disciples faced such psychological struggles, would use high-level magical means for treatment, and only with the other's cooperation. Such methods were beyond the reach of current mages.