After the mass ended, dusk began to settle.
The massive silhouette of Baron Duval's Castle looked especially forbidding in the afterglow of the sunset.
Murphy dragged his exhausted feet, limping toward the castle gate.
He deliberately altered his breathing, making it short and ragged. Each step he took was unsteady, as if he might collapse.
"Halt! Who goes there!"
Two guards at the gate immediately raised their spears in alarm, crossing them to block his path.
When they got a clear look at the person in the torchlight, they couldn't help but gasp.
"By Oriane..." The younger guard's eyes went wide. "Are you... Murphy? The groom who went into the mountains with Lord Moby?"
Murphy was rather well-known among the castle servants. If nothing else, the guards at the gate had to have good memories.
So even if the guards didn't see Murphy often, they still remembered him.
Yet the Murphy before them was so wretched he was almost unrecognizable.
His once-tidy clothes were now tattered rags that barely covered his body.
His exposed skin was covered in a crisscrossing network of scratches, some of the wounds caked with mud, a shocking sight to behold.
His disheveled hair was like dried grass, matted with dirt and fallen leaves. His face showed nothing but deep exhaustion and the lingering terror of a soul not yet settled.
The older guard took two steps forward, studying him carefully in the firelight. "By Oriane, you... you actually made it back alive?"
"Yes... it's me."
Murphy's voice was so hoarse it was barely audible. He swayed on cue, as if he might fall over at any moment. "By sheer luck... I escaped with my life..."
"Quick, catch him!"
The older guard hurriedly called to his partner.
The two flanked the teetering Murphy, supporting him from both sides. Their voices were filled with disbelief. "What in the world happened? What about the others? Are there any other survivors?"
Murphy shook his head weakly, his eyes vacant. "We were suddenly attacked... Everyone... everyone scattered..."
At this, he revealed a hint of a breakdown, mixed with a sliver of joy. "I... I ran for my life... I don't know how long I ran... before I made it back to the castle..."
Seeing his state, the two guards exchanged a look. They both saw understanding in each other's eyes.
They had clearly already heard about the disastrous losses from the expedition and understood that it was a miracle a groom had made it back alive.
The older guard patted Murphy's shoulder. "Alright, alright, it's good that you're back. Go on in and report to the Steward. You need to get those injuries looked at right away."
The young guard added, "May Oriane guide you, kid. You're really lucky."
Murphy kept his head down, expressing his thanks with a muffled whimper. Watched by the guards, he limped through the castle gate, his figure gradually melting into the dim shadows within.
The atmosphere inside the castle was even more solemn than usual. The occasional servants who passed by kept their heads down, their steps hurried. A faint, almost imperceptible sorrow hung in the air.
Following a familiar path, Murphy headed toward the Steward's office, his steps light and his body swaying.
The few servants he encountered along the way showed shocked expressions upon seeing his state. They asked if he needed help, but Murphy just shook his head in refusal.
The door to the Steward's office was ajar, a warm candlelight spilling out from within.
Murphy stopped before the door, took a deep breath, and made his breathing even more rapid and erratic before pushing the door open and entering.
The old Steward was sitting at his desk, holding a prayer book he had just brought back from the mass, carefully organizing the guest list for the day's ceremony.
Hearing the noise, he snapped without looking up, "Who told you to come in without knocking—"
When he raised his head and saw the person standing in the doorway, the book in his hand fell onto the desk with a THUD.
"Mur... Murphy?" The old Steward's voice trembled with shock. "You're alive?"
"Mas... Master Steward..." Murphy's voice was almost inaudible. "I... I'm back..."
Right on cue, he staggered forward a step, catching himself on the doorframe to stay upright.
The old Steward quickly stood up and hurried around the desk.
"By Oriane, this is truly..." The old Steward looked Murphy up and down, his eyes full of disbelief. "Where are the others? What about Lord Tommy Han?"
Murphy shook his head, just as he had with the guards, his eyes showing fear and confusion. "We... we were attacked... Everyone scattered... I... I don't know..."
His voice grew weaker and weaker. At the same time, he secretly circulated the Breathing and Guiding Technique, deliberately continuing to disrupt the flow of Qi in his body.
A retrograde current of Qi rampaged through his meridians, bringing on waves of dizziness.
He went along with the discomfort, letting his face grow paler and a fine sheen of cold sweat break out on his forehead.
"I... I just remember running... and running..." Murphy's voice was intermittent, his breathing rapid and irregular. "Through the woods... across streams... When I was thirsty, I drank dew. When I was hungry, I gnawed on wild fruit... I was so tired I passed out several times, and when I woke up, I'd just start crawling forward again... For five whole days, until I finally saw the main road..."
The old Steward frowned and was about to ask more questions when he saw Murphy's body suddenly begin to tremble violently.
"Murphy? Are you alright?"
"I... I feel..."
Before Murphy could finish, he suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes rolled back, and his whole body went limp, falling backward.
The instant he fell, he deliberately relaxed all his muscles to make the fall look more natural.
The back of his head tapped lightly against the stone floor with a dull thud. The impact wasn't heavy, but it was enough to make his faint appear more convincing.
"Murphy!"
The old Steward cried out in alarm and quickly knelt to check on him.
He saw Murphy with his eyes shut tight, his face deathly pale, and his breathing faint and erratic—the perfect picture of someone who had fainted from injury and exhaustion.
"Someone! Help!"
The old Steward shouted toward the door.
Soon, two able-bodied servants heard the call and hurried over.
Seeing Murphy on the floor, they both had looks of surprise.
"Carry him to the infirmary," the old Steward ordered. "Be careful, he's badly hurt."
The servants carefully lifted Murphy.
As they moved him, Murphy remained fully conscious, but he kept his muscles relaxed and his breathing shallow. Using the Breathing and Guiding Technique, he perfectly maintained the illusion of being unconscious.
The infirmary was filled with the smell of medicinal herbs.
The physician on duty examined Murphy's condition, carefully inspecting the wounds on his body.
"Multiple scrapes and cuts, some of which are already infected," the physician said as he treated the wounds. "He's suffering from severe physical exhaustion, and his mind seems to have been through a great shock as well. Let him rest. I'll give him some calming herbs."
Murphy felt a cool ointment being applied to his wounds, followed by a bowl of bitter medicinal soup being carefully fed to him.
He cooperated with unconscious swallows while continuing to maintain his comatose state.
About an hour later, the door to the infirmary was gently pushed open.
A familiar voice, trembling with disbelief, spoke up.
"Physician, I heard... I heard Murphy is back? Is it true?"
It was Hank's voice.
Murphy smiled inwardly, but on the outside, he remained perfectly still.
The physician replied, "Yes, he was just brought in. He's in bad shape, covered in injuries, and is still unconscious."
Hank hurried to the bedside. When he saw that the person in the bed was indeed the Murphy he thought was dead, he couldn't help but gasp.
"Oh, Oriane... it's really him..." Hank's voice choked with emotion. "We all thought he... we thought..."
He had always felt a pang of guilt for letting Murphy take his place on the expedition into the Twilight Mountain Range.
'If Murphy had died, that would have been one thing, but since he's alive...'
Hank reached out, as if wanting to touch Murphy to confirm this wasn't an illusion, but he was afraid of disturbing the injured man. His hand hovered in mid-air, trembling slightly.
Hank eagerly asked the physician, "How is he? Is it serious?"
"The wounds on his body aren't fatal, but he's severely exhausted, and his mind seems to have suffered a considerable shock."
The physician sighed. "Let him get some rest. It's a miracle he made it back alive at all."
Hank sat down by the bed, his gaze fixed on Murphy's pale face, as if still unable to believe what was before him.
"We've all heard what happened in the mountains," Hank said quietly to the unconscious Murphy, as if it would make him feel better. "So many people died... Lord Moby, Lord Walter, Lord Jimmy... We all thought you too..."
His voice caught, then he continued, "Lord Yor was badly injured. His path as a Knight is likely... ah, but now that you're back, it's just so good..."
Murphy maintained his steady breathing, but his mind was racing.
'Hank's reaction is just as I expected. I was right to do him that favor; he's always been a bit of a soft touch.'
'But what happened to Yor?'
'I heard on the way here that he was seriously injured, and now Hank is saying...'
'Yor's status is directly related to my own. It's no wonder I'm concerned.'
'But I'm pretending to be unconscious, so I can't very well ask.'
Another hour passed. After the physician confirmed that Murphy's condition was stable, Hank took the initiative. "Physician, let me take him back to our room to rest. He won't be able to rest easy here, and I can look after him back there."
The physician thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Remember to change his dressings on time. If he develops a fever tonight, come find me immediately."
Hank called over a few other grooms, and together they carefully carried Murphy back to the dormitory.
The grooms' dormitory was located next to the stables, which was convenient for both nighttime care of the horses and for saving space.
Hank carried Murphy into their shared room and carefully settled him onto his bed.
The room was simple: two narrow beds, a worn-out wardrobe, and a small table.
But at this moment, it was the safest harbor in Murphy's plan.
Hank carefully covered Murphy with a thin blanket, then brought over a basin of clean water and gently wiped the grime from his face with a damp cloth.
His movements were gentle, as if afraid of hurting him.
"What in the world did you go through, brother..." Hank murmured to himself as he wiped. "To survive a disaster like that..."
Just then, Murphy decided the time was right. He first let out a faint groan, his eyelids fluttered, and then he slowly opened his eyes.
Hank cried out in pleasant surprise, "Murphy! You're awake! How are you feeling? Do you want some water?"
Murphy's gaze first swept around blankly before focusing on Hank's face. He showed an appropriate amount of confusion and bewilderment. "Hank? Where... where am I?"
Hank quickly explained, "You're in our room. You fainted in the Steward's office, and the physician has already treated your wounds. You really don't remember anything?"
Murphy frowned, putting on an act of trying hard to remember. "I only remember... remember finally seeing the castle gate... and then... then nothing..."
His voice was still weak, but it had a little more strength than before.
Hank comforted him, "You're back at the castle now. You're safe. Just get some rest and don't think about those horrible things anymore."
Murphy nodded slightly and closed his eyes, but then they snapped open again, as if he had suddenly remembered something important. "Lord Yor... how is he? On the way here, I heard that he..."
Hank's expression darkened. "Lord Yor was severely injured. I'm afraid his legs are ruined. His path as a Knight is over."
A look of grief and shock, half-real and half-feigned, appeared on Murphy's face. "How could this happen..."
Hank cut him off. "Don't talk about that. The most important thing for you right now is to recover. I'll go get you something to eat."
After Hank got up and left the room, Murphy slowly closed his eyes. 'The first step is a success. I've returned to the castle in a believable state without raising too much suspicion.'
'Next up, I'll probably have to deal with an interrogation from the masters of the castle.'