When we reached the road, I said, “Bikes and the ATV might not work with the congestion, but bicycles should.”

“Good idea,” Mahya said.

Rue huffed, sending me a powerful wave of disapproval. I scratched his ear. “Sorry, buddy. You’re just too damn big for the trailer.”

He huffed again but gave a reluctant nod.

Navigating on bicycles turned into an exercise in maneuvering around people on foot, oxen carts, and self-driving carts. The slower pace helped—it meant we didn’t run anyone over. We got plenty of curious looks as we pedaled by, and a few people even shouted questions at us, but we ignored them and kept going.

After three or four hours of paddling, I felt a warning from my Luck, again, and growled.

Rue was off the road, sniffing around a clump of trees. His ears perked up, and he lifted his head toward me. “John angry?”

“Stay there. Something is up,” I said, scanning the surroundings and tightening my grip on the bicycle.

Rue’s tail stiffened, and he lowered his stance like he was preparing to charge. “Rue protect John!” he declared, his telepathic voice brimming with determination.

“Yes,” I said firmly, glancing his way. “But you’re our trump card. Stay back.”

“Rue bestest trump card,” He said, sounding much more optimistic.

Nothing seemed amiss around us. Groups of people walked by, and others drove carts. Up ahead, three farmers with hand-pulled carts piled high walked slowly, chatting as they went. My head was on a constant swivel, scanning left and right, but so far, nothing stood out.

“Something’s up,” I sent to the group.

Mahya slowed down, and Al and I caught up to her. The road curved left around a hill, and Rue climbed up the slope, his ears twitching as he looked down at us from above. I was sure something would happen on the other side of the hill, but there was nothing. The road continued uninterrupted—no ambush, no sign of danger.

Mahya stopped and turned to me. “What happened?”

Al and I stopped beside her, my head still on a swivel. “Got a warning from my Luck.”

They looked around, but there was nothing. Some people looked at us strangely but kept walking.

“We should store the bicycles,” Al said.

We kept walking for a few more minutes when a group of men suddenly jumped out from behind the bushes and hurled objects at us. Instinctively, I swatted one away. A vial?

I woke up lying on the floor in a small room. Mahya and Al were sitting against the wall, speaking quietly, with a light ball floating above them. A body lay a few feet away from me. Rue wasn’t here. I jolted and checked the connection. He was close and unharmed. I didn’t sense any distress from him.

“Rue?” I sent, my thoughts reaching out to him.

“John is awake!” His tone radiated happiness and relief, almost like a wagging tail in my mind.

“Where are you?”

“On roof bad men place. Mahya say not do anything because John is asleep!” Now, he sounded disgruntled.

“Good boy. Stay there. I need to find out what’s going on.”

“Bad men take John, Mahya, and Al. They not take Rue. Rue follow invisible,” he said, his pride unmistakable.

“Where are we?”

“In city where John sell things.”

Mahya said something while I was talking with Rue.

“What?” I asked, glancing over at her.

“I said, good morning,” she repeated, a hint of amusement in her tone.

I jerked myself into a sitting position, my heart racing. “Morning?! We were here for a whole day?” I stared at her, wide-eyed, struggling to process the lost time.

She waved her hands in a soothing motion. “No, no. Relax. I meant good morning since you woke up. We’ve been here for a few hours. I’m not sure exactly how long.” She glanced toward the ceiling. “The best I got from Rue is, ‘Too long.’”

I pointed at the body. “Who’s that?”

“He came to check on us,” Al said. “However, he appeared displeased to find me awake, so I was compelled to eliminate him.”

“What happened exactly?” I asked, glancing at the body again.

“We were attacked by alchemists employing sleep potions,” Al explained in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Aren’t you immune?” I asked.

“To my own concoctions, yes,” he replied with a faint shrug. “However, I possess only partial immunity to the creations of others.”

“Let’s chat outside,” Mahya said, motioning toward the door. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up. Now, let’s get moving.”

“How come you woke up before me?”

Mahya waved her hand dismissively, her tone brisk. “Al has partial immunity, and my Constitution is higher. But that’s irrelevant right now. Let’s get out of here and see what’s waiting for us outside.”

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“Wait,” Al said, holding up a hand. “I suggest we repay them in kind.” He pulled out a paintball gun and added, “Shoot one ball at each person we encounter. I believe three doses should be sufficient to overcome their partial immunity.”

Mahya and I exchanged a glance before nodding. We slipped on the potion masks, adjusting them to ensure a snug fit.

I reached out to Rue through the connection. “Rue, put on your mask.”

We turned invisible and left the holding room. The door opened into a deserted corridor with two more doors. One led to an empty room, and the other outside. We came out into an enormous garden with buildings spread throughout.

This garden wasn’t for beauty or show; it was an alchemical garden. They meticulously divided the space into plots, each with rows of similar plants arranged with military precision. Stone-paved pathways snaked between the plots, leading to various wood and bamboo buildings scattered throughout.

The buildings lacked the ornate decorations we saw elsewhere, but exuded a quiet elegance. Their clean lines, paper-paneled doors, and windows lent a sense of understated sophistication that matched the garden’s practical charm.

The scent hit me like a wave—amazing and overwhelming. A riot of aromas swirled together, creating a heavy, heady perfume that clung to the air. Each breath carried a complex mixture of herbal, floral, and earthy notes, as if the garden was alive and breathing around me.

Al kept exclaiming, "This plant is great for mana potions. This plant is useful for burn salves. This one is perfect for energy elixirs, and this root here is essential for stabilizing volatile mixtures—"

Mahya cut off his excitement. “Dungeon protocol. First elimination, then looting.”

The area was almost empty. We walked for several minutes before spotting the first people tending to the plants in one of the plots. Three paintballs each, and they were down. We confiscated their pouches, but there was no point in stripping them—no one would be around to witness their humiliation.

After clearing the outside, we moved into the buildings, sweeping through them methodically and leaving the largest one for last. Inside the main building, we followed the sound of voices until we arrived at a large theater. In the center of the room, the old dude who wanted to be Al’s grandpa stood on a stage, carefully stirring something in a cauldron set over a flame and talking.

“Remember, the hand motion while stirring is as important as the ingredients. Keep your hand motions steady and measured…”

Over twenty students watched him intently. We worked methodically, putting them to sleep and catching them as they fell to avoid making any noise. They were so engrossed in the lecture that only the last three noticed something was wrong. They glanced around, murmuring to each other in confusion.

“…Maintaining the same speed during this stage will—” The grandpa stopped mid-sentence, his expression darkening. “Pay attention!” he boomed angrily.

While he was shouting, his students fell asleep—with a little help.

Now, even he realized something was wrong. He looked around, saw all the sleeping beauties, and got an even angrier expression. “Show yourself!” he shouted.

We shot him.

“How dare you attack me?! I am the Achemy Sage!” he shouted louder.

We shot him again.

“Show yourself and face the consequences!” his volume rose even more.

I had enough of his lungs’ capacity and shot him with lightning. That did the trick.

A few men came running into the room and went to sleep with the rest of their friends. Finally, the place was cleared and ready for the next stage.

"Now, we loot," Mahya said.

Al let out a long, loud squeal of excitement, clapping his hands like a delighted child. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that Prince Alfonsen Holerand Mirbit VII could make such a sound.

Mahya and I exchanged a glance and burst into laughter. Al, clearly unimpressed, lifted his nose in the air and made a regal, dismissive gesture with his hand. “You collect all the loot from the buildings. I will harvest the gardens. It is a task that requires knowledge.”

“How long will they sleep?” I asked.

“At least eight hours. We have time.”

Mahya and I worked systematically, gathering all the pouches and supplies from the teaching theater before moving on to the rest of the building. It turned out to be a treasure trove for Al.

We found a massive library of scrolls, wooden tablets, and even stone-etched writings. Alchemy stations, complete with intricate equipment, were scattered throughout the building. The top floor was open to the elements, with herbs spread out to dry in the breeze, while the three basement levels were packed with dried herbs, seeds, and countless other unrecognizable materials. With everything we found, Al would be set for years.

Rue took the opportunity to snooze in the entryway while we worked. By the time we finished clearing the building, Al was only halfway through harvesting the gardens. Mahya confiscated all the pouches he had collected so far.

We used the time to exploit the "glitch in the matrix" and empty the pouches. The loot included a wide variety of plants, along with clothes, scrolls, money, and assorted personal items. Anything we didn’t need or want, we left in a massive pile in the entryway to the main building. Let them sort it out.

Al was finally done in the middle of the night. All of us turned invisible. Mahya got on Rue’s back, Al on mine, and we flew to the lake where I had set up my house initially. There, we took the time to write a short entry about the world. Instead of each of us writing something, I took over the task, and we each added our thoughts.

23rd Blessing, Verdant Growth, Year of the Jade Serpent—Traveler John Rue

This world is divided into two halves, each a complete contradiction of the other. Let’s start with the good, shall we? The mana beasts here are nothing short of incredible. The higher-level ones can actually talk, and even the lower-level ones understand everything you say. These aren’t your run-of-the-mill beasts—don’t treat them like stupid animals. If you happen to have healing skills, or even just the Minor Healing spell, it can be a fantastic way to build rapport. Many of these creatures are in dire need of healing and genuinely appreciate the gesture. They’ll thank you with words and gifts. It’s an exchange that feels meaningful and worthwhile.

Now, onto the people. Oh, the people. The people are crazy as hell. There’s no sugarcoating it. Don’t even bother trying to hold a rational conversation with them—it’s a one-way ticket to frustration. The moment you open your mouth, you’ll be bombarded with nonsense like, “Call me Daddy!” or “Call me Grandpa!” And no matter what you say, it will fall on deaf ears. They’ll invent the most absurd reasons to attack you, and then—brace yourself—they’ll think it's dishonorable if you dare defend yourself. It’s like they’re in some kind of competition to see who can be the most insufferable. Do yourself a favor: don’t try to understand them. Just keep your contact with the population to the absolute minimum.

Now, for some good news. These lunatics all carry pouches tied to their waists, which are bound to them. Normally, if you try to open a pouch, the contents get destroyed—some kind of self-destruct mechanism. But, we discovered a workaround. If you put the pouch into your Storage, you can access all its contents safely and pull out whatever you want without it being destroyed. This little loophole netted us a lot of loot.

So, when the inevitable happens, and one of these madmen attacks you, here’s what we recommend: take their pouch—consider it well-deserved compensation for their aggression. While you’re at it, strip them buck naked and send them on their way. Why? Because their obsession with honor means that the humiliation of running naked in front of everyone is the most satisfying revenge you can imagine. It’s poetic justice at its finest.

We are a group of three Travelers, and our time here was brief—we got tired of the madness. Besides the madness, we’ve learned a few other things. These people will buy almost anything, especially items containing mana, which they call essence. Food and organic materials harvested from beasts with mana are incredibly valuable here. Mana crystals, too, fetch absurd prices. We sold our inventory for an outrageous sum.

Still, despite the profit potential, we’re leaving this world as quickly as possible. The people here are simply too bonkers; frankly, we don’t have the patience or strength to deal with their madness.

Happy trails, dear Traveler. May your experience in this world be better—or at least as profitable as ours.