Let's rewind time to the Autumn Breeze borderlands two years ago.
Raymond De Redwood appeared entirely unlike his previous image as a traveling merchant. He now wore a dignified ensemble of a robe and trousers, and his well-worn short boots had been replaced with shiny leather shoes. Atop his head rested a clean, small hood, and around his collar, a bird-shaped brooch adorned with a sapphire gem, resembling that of a prosperous local. He sat leisurely at a small table in a restaurant, sipping fresh red tea. On the table were steaming omelet rolls with goat ham and peppered mashed potatoes, accompanied by a serving of small honey oranges for dessert. The fragrant aroma of summer coffee lingered subtly in the air, soothing the nerves of every customer.
In fact, this marked Raymond De Redwood's fifth month undercover in the Autumn Breeze borderlands. During this time, he acquired a small shop, selling unique antiques collected from the capital to the local upper class during the day. He frequented various restaurants in the town for meals, and in the evenings, he immersed himself in the camaraderie of local taverns, forging connections with the townspeople, reveling in song and drink, living a truly enjoyable life.
However, this seemingly authentic pseudo-trader hasn't forgotten the purpose of his current venture. Our Mr. Raymond De Redwood adheres to extremely stringent professional ethics and a noble professional creed. As an elite thief, he deeply believes in the saying, 'Half a year of inactivity, half a year of indulgence.' Petty theft and trivial methods are beneath the notice of this proud master thief. Just as a knight cannot resist the allure of the finest steed, the pinnacle of this thief's art is reserved for stealing the most exotic and priceless treasures. Ever since he heard the mysterious legend about the jewel-encrusted crown in the tavern, he couldn't resist the allure of the Radiant Cult.
He seamlessly blended in with the locals, gathering a wealth of information about the Radiant Cult. He even went so far as to play the part of a devoted disciple, joining the faithful each week in the temple, participating in the rituals, and sharing the sacred sacrament. 'I can't fathom how long I have to endure that lethal taste, like a murder-flavored biscuit,' Raymond De Redwood thought to himself. Everything was going smoothly, except for that one thing—the sacred biscuit with a texture like chewed-up cloth and a taste resembling a spoiled one.
All efforts bear fruit, and after consuming an uncountable number of the foul-tasting sacred biscuits, Raymond De Redwood finally encountered a breakthrough. Among the faithful who frequently partook in the biscuit-eating rituals with him was a venerable local landlord. This distinguished figure was preparing to host a grand wedding ceremony for his daughter in the sacrificial hall of the temple. Due to his prestige and unwavering devotion to the deity, the gods made an exception and opened the doors to the inner sanctum of the temple for him and his guests. This was the final place Raymond De Redwood had been unable to explore.
Fortunately, the elderly landlord admired the earnestness and eloquence of this young man who joined them in worship. He warmly extended an invitation to Raymond De Redwood to attend his daughter's wedding. It was a heaven-sent opportunity!
"Hey, Grando, lend me a hand! Take this basket of wheat flour to the back kitchen. I still have five baskets of potatoes and ten pounds of butter on my carriage. We need to put in extra effort to prepare the fermenting dough." Exhausted and panting, Kaas, the esteemed head chef of the Radiant Cult, spoke to the young assistant Grando. His plump figure, resembling a dough in the process of fermentation, emitted rings of steam as he struggled with the manual labor. Gasping for breath, he continued, "For the weekend worship, we must bake a hundred sacred biscuits by tomorrow morning!"
"Good heavens! Another hundred!" Grando, struggling with the wheat flour, froze in his tracks and let out a reluctant groan. As he laboriously moved forward, a small figure trailed behind him. They reached a crossroads, and each took a separate path—one to the back kitchen, the other to the graveyard.
The latter was BamBam, who was once a beggar. She had managed to acquire half a pig's hind leg ham from the pigsty and boldly used the coins donated by the faithful in the church's merit box to buy a large, freshly baked loaf of bread from the bakery. As she was heading back to her secret hideout to enjoy lunch, she encountered Grando and decided to join in on the commotion.
"Good heavens, a hundred biscuits!" BamBam muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. "I've stolen and tasted these biscuits before. They have the flavor of rotten rags. Tut, even worse than the dry bread and meat sausage the person gave me money for last time! This one is super awful!"
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BamBam pursed her lips and furrowed her brows, as if recalling the taste of the biscuits she had eaten before. She took a few steps to a stone statue, deftly moved aside a thin brick behind it, and slipped inside, carrying her delicacies. Moving through the narrow tunnel, BamBam maneuvered like a small, agile mouse burrowing through the earth. She quickly arrived at her little haven.
She tossed the bread and ham onto a small table and turned to enter her tiny storage room. There, she intended to fetch a pot of hot water to commence her feast. The location of her storage room was intentionally set by BamBam to be somewhat distant. In her earlier years, she had mistakenly dug a few tunnels, resulting in a complex and convoluted underground network. Finding anything required navigating a series of twists and turns. Yet, this unintentional maze had inadvertently saved BamBam's life more than once!
BamBam clumsily maneuvered a heavy pottery jar filled with water, a rough little teapot clamped in her mouth. The teapot contained dried wild berries and two small cubes of sugar, promising the creation of a delicious fruit tea. Despite BamBam's efforts to move silently, the sheer weight of the object made it challenging to avoid creating any noise. Consequently, she had to progress slowly, taking careful, measured steps.
As she finally approached the pathway leading to the living room, a shocking and terrifying sight awaited her. She suppressed a scream, for before her lay a massive collapse of what used to be a room. The entire expanse of the living room had succumbed to chaos, scattered with debris and crushed furniture. Marks of shovels were visible along the edges of the collapsed structure, and the pathway was strewn with disordered footprints. Faint curses echoed from nearby tunnels. Somehow, this secret hideaway had been discovered!
With no time for further contemplation, BamBam immediately abandoned the pottery jar and teapot, wedging them in the tunnel where the noise originated, and fled in the opposite direction. BamBam moved frantically through the tunnels, utilizing both hands and feet. She could hear her own heartbeat racing, almost bursting out, and the curses were getting closer. Upon closer listening, she even heard sounds resembling the hacking and chopping of blades and axes.
"Oh, heavens! These people might take my life!" In the midst of this intense fright, BamBam was on the verge of crying out. Cold sweat dripped from her, her entire body trembling. She began experiencing difficulty breathing, as if someone were tightly grasping her neck. The footsteps and curses chasing her grew nearer and more aggressive. These pursuers seemed to be gradually familiarizing themselves with the layout of the underground hideaway, and BamBam was losing the advantage of her native knowledge of the terrain.
With a crisis looming, the people pursuing her seemed to possess an unusually keen sense of smell, one that could responsibly be said to surpass even the sharp noses of canine Therianthropes. It was as if they had been enhanced in some way. BamBam could only crawl deeper into the tunnels where the scents were more mixed. She recalled a past mistake where she had inadvertently extended the tunnels into the temple's sewage system. Although she had promptly taken measures to seal off the leak, the unpleasant odor from the sewage had permeated that section of the tunnels for a considerable amount of time. Now, she had to reach the wall connecting to the sewer system before these pursuers, possessing noses fiercer than hunting dogs, caught up to her.
In reality, this sounded like an utterly disastrous idea. Unfortunately, BamBam had no other choice. She transformed into her canine form and vigorously clawed and dug at the wall. The foul sewage began to seep out from the wall until it burst open entirely. The pungent and filthy water, mixed with indescribable debris, surged towards BamBam. She braved the torrent, plunging into the sewer tunnel, successfully distancing herself from the pursuers.
The dirtied and soaked little dog pressed forward in the sewer, her entire body covered in filth. She felt profoundly disheartened, the stench nearly robbing her of all rationality. However, she couldn't guarantee that emerging directly would keep her safe from those chasing her. Thus, she continued to wander in the sewage. Despite the nauseating environment, the prolonged journey and lack of sustenance left her stomach painfully empty. BamBam, weary and hungry, almost cried in the dimly lit tunnel but managed to restrain herself. Her extensive experience as a wanderer taught her that crying at this moment would only increase the risk of dehydration and hypothermia. She needed to find a dry place and a clean water source quickly. Enduring her sorrow, she marked a symbol at a junction, continuing her exploration of the route.
After traversing several such forks in the waterway, she fortunately heard a change in the direction of the flowing water. Following the altered flow, she heard the sound of wind above and the faint drip of water hitting the ground. BamBam, guided by these signs, climbed a worn ladder installed in the sewer. Indeed, where people gathered, there wouldn't be such water droplet sounds. The wind noises confirmed the smooth airflow, indicating that this was probably an abandoned area of the temple's underground. There was hardly a soul around!
BamBam was on the verge of tears with joy. Even after ensuring that no one had passed through this area recently, she cautiously sought out a secluded corner and settled down quietly. Above ground, it was already deep into the night, and the darkness below ground deprived one of any sense of time. Closing her increasingly heavy eyelids, BamBam succumbed to a deep slumber. She truly had no strength left, utterly exhausted.