Chapter 959 – Destroying the Outposts

“I understand, child… Follow the guidance of your heart and go see this world! Take this… and stay safe on your journey!”

A large mass of life essence drifted out from the trunk. Mo Lan hurriedly took out a container to catch it, then bowed deeply to the Tree of Life.

Afterward, Mo Lan went to bid farewell to her close Elf friends.

Polly and Celine had recovered considerably from their initial fright and were preparing to join the tribe’s patrol squad, working alongside Dominic and the others to protect the tribe.

When they heard the news that Mo Lan would be traveling far away, their eyes reddened.

“You must be careful, Moira! Humans are so cunning!” Polly grasped Mo Lan’s hands and stuffed a pile of small sachets she had carefully crafted—each with various protective or calming effects—into Mo Lan’s pack.

“Take these herbs with you. I’ve dried them all already—for emergencies.” Celine silently handed over a neatly organized small herb pouch.

Dominic gave Mo Lan his best quiver of arrows and an excellently maintained spare shortbow. “Take them! You must come back safely!”

Rhindor gave Mo Lan the map he had recorded when he left the forest years ago. “I haven’t been to many places, but the locations friendly to Elves are all marked on here. It should serve as a useful reference.”

Lila presented a set of tough leather armor and a pair of illusion earrings that could slightly alter hair color and conceal one’s ears. “There are slave-catching parties around the forest. You’d best hide your ears from the moment you leave the woods.”

…

By the time she returned to her treehouse, Mo Lan was surrounded by piles of gifts from her friends—all things that would prove useful after leaving the forest.

Thank goodness for the vine-woven storage pouch that Grandma Matil had given her before, or she truly wouldn’t have been able to fit everything.

She changed into a set of travel clothes in muted gray-brown tones suited for easy movement, braided her emerald-green hair into a neat plait, and put on the illusion earrings.

Standing on the treehouse platform, Mo Lan took one last look at the tribe where she had lived for a hundred years.

She drew a deep breath of the crisp morning forest air, pressed her reluctance and longing deep into her heart, turned around, glided lightly down the wooden slide, and left with resolute steps.

She made a stop at Stardrop Falls first.

In all of Emerald Forest, there was no place more suited for her to temporarily change her “identity” than the rocky shoal near Stardrop Falls—where nothing grew except moss.

When she emerged from the rocky shoal, Mo Lan the nature Elf had become Mo Lan the human mage.

Though the Emerald Green Tribe was not lacking in high-level combat strength, their numbers were simply too few. She would find it hard to accept losing even a single Elf companion.

What she was about to do next was somewhat dangerous and not suited for a nature Elf’s identity.

A high-grade transformation potion was far more reliable than the illusion earrings.

She swiftly teleported toward the approximate locations of the other three forward outposts that the Ashen Claw had established around Emerald Forest, as recorded in Shadow Raven’s memories.

Unless these tumors were excised, the pressure on the tribe’s defenses would persist. Even with traps and hunting squads, there was no guarantee that some wouldn’t slip through the net or launch new infiltrations.

“Before I leave, I need to sweep the yard clean for everyone first!”

Relying on the information from Shadow Raven’s memories and Divination Magic, she quickly located the outposts.

These outposts were less concealed than the one beneath Stardrop Falls and mostly situated outside the forest’s boundaries. They had more personnel stationed than the Stardrop Falls outpost, but their overall strength was somewhat weaker.

They clearly hadn’t yet received word of the Stardrop Falls outpost’s destruction. Mo Lan used Psychic Magic directly, rapidly taking control of everyone, copying their memories, then swiftly eliminating them.

There were no dazzling flashes of Magic, no sounds of fierce combat, not even physical contact. In an instant, every Ashen Claw member at an outpost simply lost their life.

The handful of “goods” at the outposts were also rescued by Mo Lan and set free. When she left, she would leave behind vague markings of rival factions hostile to the Ashen Claw, to muddy the waters. If anyone from the Ashen Claw came to investigate and those she rescued revealed information about her, it would conveniently draw all attention onto herself, making them think a rival faction’s mage had come knocking.

In just a few short days, every forward outpost the Ashen Claw had spent years building and operating around Emerald Forest was uprooted entirely, their stationed members wiped out to the last.

The immediate threats surrounding Emerald Forest were temporarily cleared, giving the nature Elf tribe a precious window of relative safety to strengthen their defenses and recuperate.

Mo Lan could finally set her mind at ease and head for Black Iron City.

Thanks to the memories of those slave catchers at the outposts, her understanding of the Ashen Claw at this point was probably deeper than many of the organization’s own senior members.

Once again using Spatial Magic, this time she teleported directly to the vicinity of an abandoned mine pit on the outskirts of Black Iron City.

The place was known as the “Weeping Mines” because of the wailing wind sounds that perpetually echoed from deep within the shafts.

The ore here had been mined out long ago. Now it had become a haven for wild beasts, drifters, and those in the shadow trade.

One of the Ashen Claw’s largest strongholds was hidden within.

Mo Lan appeared behind a pile of rocks on slightly elevated ground at the mine’s periphery, a vantage point overlooking the main mountain path.

The environment matched perfectly with what she had seen in the slave catchers’ memories.

Ahead lay a winding, muddy trail pressed into shape by wheels and footprints leading into the mountains. In the distance to the left, she could make out the silhouettes of crooked wooden frames at the mine entrance, jutting out like the fangs of some Amalgamated Beast. The air carried faint traces of sulfur and the metallic tang of rust.

Farther still, above the direction of Black Iron City, a hazy pall of industrial smoke was faintly visible.

“I’m here.”

Mo Lan walked toward the mine.

As the Ashen Claw’s most important site for the transit, storage, and training of “goods,” the guard strength and defensive measures here far exceeded those of the forward outposts around Emerald Forest.

However, their leader Blood-Axe Balon was only a level 17 dragonblood warrior, and he was usually stationed at the mercenary company headquarters inside Black Iron City.

For Mo Lan—whose Mana level was equivalent to a level 20 professional in this world, and whose Magic level was already equivalent to a level 18 professional—there was no real difficulty in eliminating them.

Information about this place gleaned from the slave catchers’ memories raced through Mo Lan’s mind: the layout of several main passages, possible locations of secret doors, the approximate timing of guard rotations, the general areas of warehouses and prison cells, and the distribution of personnel throughout the stronghold…

Then she assaulted the stronghold at maximum speed.

Even mages with powerful psychic power would struggle to resist her Psychic Magic.

In less than ten minutes, every combatant in the stronghold had been brought under her control and gathered together.

Next came the memory extraction, as before.

A torrent of jumbled, fragmentary memories flooded into her mind.

She closed her eyes, focused her concentration, and rapidly filtered, organized, and catalogued them.

Useful content was sorted and preserved; everything useless was discarded.

Once the memory extraction was complete, it was time for the cleanup.