Oasis silently assessed the soldiers below.
The units were organized into distinct groups: combat units, long-range fighters, and shadow units, each led by their respective leaders.
The warriors stood in tight formations, disciplined and ready, though whispers spread amongst them about the mysterious youth standing beside the city lord.
Few knew who Oasis was.
Most of the warriors had only just returned to the city from various posts, including border patrols and outlying villages.
Rumors quickly spread—some speculated Oasis was another son of the city lord, but others disagreed, noting the stark difference in appearance.
Oasis's brown skin and black hair stood in contrast to the lighter complexion of the city lord and his family.
The murmurs came to an abrupt halt as Lord Valen stepped forward, raising his hand. The courtyard grew silent.
Without a word, he and the vice city lord unleashed their auras, summoning a barrier that enveloped the entire mansion.
A soundproof barrier, Oasis thought, observing the energy as it solidified around them.
With the barrier in place, the city lord began his speech.
"Warriors of Belvan, we gather tonight for a purpose that may cost lives, but it is necessary to ensure the safety of our lands."
"The Crimson Hand, a vile force threatening our region, must be eliminated."
"As your city lord, I promise that the families of any warrior who falls in battle will be supported."
"Victory will bring honor and reward to all of you. We will strike their camps in unison, leaving no survivors."
"Remember, the success of this mission lies not just in your strength, but in your unity..."
His voice carried authority as he outlined the plan to attack the Crimson Hand.
After the speech, the warriors were divided into seven groups based on their strength.
The last three groups, considered the weakest, were placed under Oasis's command.
Six martial artists from the shadow unit were also assigned to be Oasis's special personnel.
However, this decision didn't sit well with many of the warriors in the lower groups, who were older, seasoned men with families, now expected to follow a boy their children's age.
Though they didn't voice their disapproval, respect for the city lord kept their complaints silent.
The vice city lord, who was also unfamiliar with Oasis, privately voiced his concerns to the city lord, but his objections were dismissed.
Everything was set. The plan was solid, with Oasis scheduled to move towards Riffridge the following morning.
His group, along with the others, would move discreetly throughout the region, awaiting the signal to begin the mission.
Oasis had instructed them that the operation would start two days from now, at midnight—a display of his confidence that the plan would succeed.
When morning arrived, Oasis was ready to leave for Riffridge.
Disguised as a wealthy merchant, he wore finely tailored clothes fitting for a trader.
His six shadow martial artists, disguised as bodyguards, accompanied him.
They traveled in a wooden carriage, pulled by two horses, with two of the shadows steering the cart and four riding inside with Oasis.
The carriage was stocked with a few goods to maintain the disguise, and they set off toward Riffridge, blending in perfectly with the merchants traveling along the road.
Oasis sat quietly in the carriage, his fingers intertwined, elbows resting on his thighs as he leaned forward in deep thought.
His eyes remained open, but his mind was focused elsewhere.
The four cultivators accompanying him, all from the shadow unit, occasionally glanced at one another with doubt, unsure of their young leader's capabilities.
Despite their silent reservations, they refrained from speaking up. Oasis, seemingly unbothered, stayed quiet as the carriage rolled along the dusty paths.
The carriage passed through several villages, winding through narrow valleys, and crossing the borders of different territories.
The first of these was the Mistvalley region, where the terrain was noticeably more rugged.
With each passing hour, the landscape became drier and more barren, transitioning from green fields to stretches of rocky terrain with hardly any vegetation in sight.
Along the way, they were stopped at several checkpoints—by territorial guards and occasionally by bands of opportunistic bandits.
The guards were straightforward, performing routine inspections to ensure the carriage and its occupants were not a threat.
But the bandits, more organized than Oasis had expected, demanded small tolls.
They were clearly accustomed to stopping merchants and travelers in this region, and Oasis chose to pay the silver coins without hesitation, preferring to avoid unnecessary conflicts.
At first, the cultivators inside the carriage seemed eager to fight, their warrior instincts kicking in every time a bandit appeared.
But Oasis waved them off each time, opting to handle the situations diplomatically.
His consistent decision to pay off the bandits rather than engage them in battle began to fuel doubts among his guards.
They silently questioned whether he was truly as strong as his reputation suggested.
To them, it seemed as though Oasis might actually be a simple merchant after all—more reliant on coin than strength.
The road ahead stretched long, and after about six hours of travel, the group entered Riffridge territory.
By this time, the sun hung lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the desolate landscape.
A few more minutes of travel brought them to the town of Riffridge, hidden deep within the rocky valleys.
Riffridge was far from prosperous. Unlike Belvan, which bustled with life and trade, this town looked tired and worn.
The rocky cliffs loomed over the settlement, and the buildings, constructed from rough stone, seemed to blend into the surrounding terrain.
There was an eerie stillness in the air.
Dust swirled in the dry breeze, and the few villagers walking through the streets moved with a quiet resignation, their clothes tattered and their faces hardened by the harshness of the land.
At the town's entrance, guards in ragged uniforms stopped the carriage for inspection.
These men, unlike the territorial guards they had encountered earlier, looked exhausted and disinterested.
Their faces were sunken, and their armor barely held together.
After a quick glance at the group and the goods in the carriage, they waved them through without asking for any tolls, something that surprised even Oasis.
Inside Riffridge, the streets were narrow and filled with dust.
Stalls selling meager goods lined the pathways, with vendors shouting half-heartedly about their wares—dried meat, basic tools, and a few pieces of worn clothing.
Children played in the dirt, while men and women sat in the shade, their faces worn by the unforgiving environment.