Sometimes, being too conspicuous isn't a good thing.
Having undergone nine years of compulsory education in his previous life, Locke knew all too well the lessons of "the taller the tree, the more wind it attracts" and "the bird that sticks out gets shot."
Stepping out too boldly before having enough strength to protect himself would be like asking for trouble.
Whether in the Frost Snow Empire or the Light Temple, Locke never hesitated to assume the worst about people's intentions.
He certainly didn't believe that if he died, luck alone would let him carve a bloody path through the Underworld, ascend to the Divine Realm, and live a second life.
The caravan moved steadily, and everyone was relatively relaxed.
After all, they had not yet left the territory of Vidia. At most, the bandits would send scouts to spy on the caravan.
If any dared to attack within a hundred miles of Vidia City, it would be a direct provocation.
In that case, the city's troops would teach them a lesson they wouldn't forget.
Not only the caravan's guards, but even the scattered merchants trailing behind noticed that the scouts around them were gradually increasing in number.
And while they had hidden initially, some were now openly following the caravan.
Clearly, the bandits had formed an alliance and were only waiting for the convoy to be a hundred miles from Vidia City before attacking.
Perhaps, a hundred miles out, the bandits had already positioned themselves, ready to strike.
Seeing a dozen blatant scouts around him, even President Ross felt a twinge of fear.
But as the organizer of the caravan, Ross knew that showing even a hint of anxiety now would have disastrous consequences.
The caravan leaders who had paid for protection and were following nearby would immediately divide Ross's resources to cover their own potential losses.
All Ross could do was pray that Captain Locke's strength would be enough to intimidate the bandits.
Meanwhile, the independent merchants trailing behind the caravan began to show signs of hesitation.
Without funds to hire guards, these merchants were highly vulnerable to attacks from bandits or magical beasts.
To make a living, they often followed larger guilds. After the guilds dealt with threats, the risk they faced was much lower.
But in situations like this, they had to weigh the risks themselves.
If the lead guild could repel the bandits, they could profit greatly.
But if the lead guild were also raided, the trailing merchants would be at no less risk.
Of course, the bandits did not want to kill them—merchants needed to survive to continue transporting goods for future raids.
If merchants were killed, word would spread, the trade route would suffer, or bounty hunters would be hired to clear the bandits.
In the end, none of the trailing merchants withdrew.
Opportunities to follow a large caravan were rare—maybe once or twice a year.
Missing this chance could mean months before another opportunity to leave the city.
With such mixed emotions, the caravan of nearly seventy carriages slowly continued along the trade route.
At night, the caravan found a relatively spacious spot to camp.
That day, they had traveled roughly forty miles.
At this pace, the first real encounter with the bandits would come in at most two days.
"Lord Locke, I've brought your dinner."
Inside the luxurious carriage, just as Locke reached for food from his spatial ring, he heard President Ross's voice.
Locke lifted the curtain and saw Ross holding a red square tray with three small side dishes and a bowl of rice.
"Oh? Thank you very much, President Ross."
"Perfect timing—I'm a bit hungry too."
Locke smiled and reached for the tray. To his surprise, Ross didn't let go, and Locke couldn't take it from him.
"President Ross?"
Puzzled, Locke looked up. Ross appeared slightly embarrassed and anxious, finally managing to speak a few words.
"Well, Lord Locke, just today, our guards have spotted more than seventeen bandit scouts…"
"You see…"
"Hahaha, don't worry, President Ross."
Understanding his concern, Locke chuckled lightly. "President Ross, after all, I've participated as a Fifth Legion mage in nearly a hundred battles."
"As long as none of these bandits are above Level-7, it makes no difference to me how many show up."
"Oh, yes, yes, of course. I was overthinking it."
"Lord Locke, please rest well."
Hearing Locke, Ross finally breathed easier.
Though still somewhat doubtful, he could only trust Locke at this point.
Watching Ross leave, Locke returned to his carriage with the tray.
With a thought, the tray vanished from his hands.
In its place appeared a flatbread.
Eyes closed, Locke nibbled at the bread slowly.
By taste alone, it couldn't compare to the exquisite dishes Ross had brought.
But it was safe—Locke had prepared it himself.
Traveling alone, Locke never ate food from others without caution.
If anything went wrong, regret would come too late.
With a wave of his hand, he cast a Level-3 water defense spell around him and closed his eyes, beginning to meditate and refine his mana.
Recently, as soon as his spirit force recovered, Locke maintained the Heaven-Man Unity state, slowly comprehending law fragments and letting the laws of the world temper his spirit force.
This method allowed his spirit force to grow far faster than meditation alone.
To prevent his mana from lagging behind, he focused not on training spirit force during meditation, but on recovering it quickly while absorbing more water elements from the world, refining them into mana.
(End of Chapter 9)