Chapter 122

As Carissa watched the fire slowly dim, she added more logs. The flames quickly devoured the dry wood, sending up bright flickers of light. The scene before her brought back a painful memory—returning to Northwatch Estate and finding it filled with corpses and bloodstains.

A sharp ache in her heart surged again, so intense it made breathing difficult. How she wished for Aurora's death!

But simply killing her might not be the most satisfying revenge. Carissa thought Liam might share this view. She was certain Liam wouldn't kill Aurora; Rafael had given orders to wait here, likely because Liam had spoken to him.

Rafael had previously mentioned having spies in Ilyrian City, so it was reasonable to assume there were spies in Simonton City as well. Waiting here was both Rafael's and Liam's directive.

By late night, everyone was exhausted—sleepy and hungry, though the cold was no longer a concern with plenty of firewood. Supplies had arrived from the rear—simple bread and beef jerky. But on a battlefield, any food that filled their stomachs was welcome.

Timothy had brought the supplies and conveyed Rafael's orders to Carissa. “The marshal ordered you to continue waiting here. He says you can relax a bit and take turns sleeping.”

“Do we really need this many people here?” Carissa asked.

“The marshal believes it’s necessary. He said not to easily trust a certain someone’s assurances,” Timothy replied.

With this statement, Carissa was certain Rafael and Liam had reached some sort of agreement. He seemed to know everything.

Timothy was somewhat puzzled, unsure why Rafael had ordered them to wait. However, military orders were absolute, and he followed them without question.

After delivering the supplies, Timothy returned to the city. Although the Southern Frontier had been recaptured, the battlefield still required cleanup, and the bodies of fallen soldiers needed burial. There was much work to be done.

Victory on the battlefield always brought joy, but it was accompanied by sadness and pain. Comrades who fought alongside them—perhaps their closest friends—would never see that victory. Their eyes would forever be closed.

Before dawn, Barrett returned with his men, who were utterly exhausted. Michael distributed the food to them.

They sat down to eat, but Barrett didn’t touch his. He gazed at the rising sun, which indicated a clear day—the best weather they had seen since arriving in the Southern Frontier.

Yet, his mood was incredibly heavy. They had found nothing in the desert and couldn’t continue searching indefinitely. They had no choice but to return.

He glanced at Carissa several times. She was resting her head on Violet’s shoulder, clearly exhausted. She was injured, and someone had bandaged her wounds, though the severity of her injuries was uncertain.

After a while, Barrett stood and walked over to Carissa. He asked softly, “Are your injuries serious?”

Resting her head on Violet’s shoulder, Carissa didn’t respond and showed no change in expression.

Violet shot him a look of utter disdain and silently mouthed, “None of your business. Go away.”

Understanding her lip movements, Barrett felt angry and embarrassed. Fuming, he turned and went back to sit down.

Violet rolled her eyes. What was that? Not just anyone could come over and concern themselves with Carissa. Carissa wasn’t that cheap!

They waited until the sun began to set, painting the sky with twilight hues.

At that point, Barrett could no longer sit still. Seeing Carissa stand up, he hurried over. “I plan to head to the plains before it gets dark.”

Carissa glanced at the setting sun, feeling a mix of warmth and chill, which made her exceptionally uncomfortable.

“If you’re going, you don’t need to inform me. I command the Mystic Army, and you’re not part of it,” she said, then lifted her chin and gestured to his soldiers. “You’re their general.”

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