Is it a blessing or a curse to feel no pain, neither in body nor in soul?
In Renith’s view, it didn’t seem entirely bad—in fact, it carried a faint hint of something positive.
For those scarred by war, this power was a sanctuary from physical suffering. For those corroded by society’s darkness, it became a numbing balm for the mind, a way to forget old wounds. When faced with failure after failure, only this strength could keep them going, stopping despair from swallowing them whole.
Yet Mislean saw it completely differently.
“To me, this is utterly terrifying. A life without pain is barren and hollow—it robs us of reverence for life itself.”
Now, this power seemed to have latched onto carefree people who never needed it in the first place—and instead of easing pain, it became a shield against ever feeling any. That was a twisted perversion.
Only by enduring the sting of defeat can a person truly grow; only by knowing the ache of loss can they cherish what they have. Without the sensation of pain, life turns into a colourless canvas, dull and monotonous.
“That city lord—do you know anything about him?”
Renith asked suddenly.
Mislean shook his head. He only returned to Ungler City once or twice a year and didn’t know much about the lord’s background—Vimia was equally in the dark.
Still, after a moment’s thought, he said:
“But I can tell you what Ungler City is like now. I heard you have a keen insight into geography earlier, so I’ll just mention a few things you might not know.”
Renith smiled faintly. She was indeed deeply curious about Ungler City—though that curiosity was rooted in memories from over two hundred years ago.
She recalled that Ungler City sat on the empire’s border, an oasis town tasked with guarding the frontier.
Its lord, Barubaren, was a Count-tier powerhouse who had been ordered by the then-ruler to hold Ungler against all monstrous incursions and protect the land’s peace.
But the betrayal of nobles had kindled Barubaren’s fury.
Through sheer force of will, he united nobles and commoners alike, and successfully defended the city.
His contributions in that war were monumental—even the emperor himself was moved to marvel at them.
Later, Renith had visited Ungler City and had the chance to speak with Barubaren.
At the time, Barubaren was racking his brains over how to spur rapid development and break the city’s heavy dependence on mineral resources. He knew that ores were not infinite—endless extraction would only lead to ruin.
Renith gave him a few pointers, drawing on her knowledge and wisdom to offer some helpful advice.
In an era before transmigrators became as common as they were now, such insights were precious gems—good models worth borrowing.
Following Renith’s suggestions, Barubaren began recruiting talent and extending the industrial chain.
On one hand, he pitched his weaponry samples to the reigning emperor; with superior craftsmanship and quality, he won the emperor’s favour. Soon, Ungler City started forging arms for the empire and became a vital supplier of weaponry.
On the other hand, Barubaren offered high-end custom services to mage towers. Magical tools were standard gear for mages back then—as long as they needed them, they could work with Ungler’s finest craftsmen to forge prototype magical implements.
These moves greatly boosted Ungler’s prosperity and made it thrive.
But that was all from a century ago.
What changes had Ungler City undergone since?
Renith decided to hear what Mislean had to say.
“Ungler City is rich, yet poor,”
Mislean began slowly.
“Poor is the sandy soil that yields no crops. Poor is the single-dimensional economy that clings to mining. Poor are the hearts of its people.”
“The yellow sands were there since I was born—a heavenly punishment. The prosperity from mining was heaven’s gift. But I hear the current emperor and the entrepreneurs have stolen that gift, forcing labourers to dig ever deeper. The mining intensity rises year after year, yet the ore we find grows scarcer. Heaven seems to have turned its back on us.”
“And then there’s the boulder in the square—that ‘Pain-Easing Thorn’ it grants takes away people’s hearts and dulls all suffering. To me, that is the root of all misery.”
Renith felt a swarm of questions rising within her.
She remembered that yes, there was a desert near Ungler City—but the city itself was a genuine oasis, capable of producing food through proper reclamation.
Moreover, Ungler had already achieved economic transformation back then—why hadn’t Mislean mentioned any of that?
He only spoke of the current emperor’s heavy-handed resource extraction, as if Ungler had reverted to primitive mining.
And that boulder in the square—what was that?
She had some guesses, but decided to focus her questions on these two points.
“Industry… I think my parents did mention that once.”
“We used to have quite a few processing plants here, mostly for weapon finishing. But they all shut down thirty years ago—apparently because the transmigrators’ technology was too advanced, and our traditional crafts couldn’t compete. Of course, the empire stopped buying from us too.”
Indeed, traditional blacksmithing couldn’t keep up with mechanised production. And with the empire in a prolonged peace, there was little need for such arms—especially with the rise of firearms. The current emperor and the transmigrators were hoarding mineral resources mainly to produce those new weapons.
“The boulder in the square—that belongs to the current lord. It appeared thirty years ago. Anyone who touches it gains the ‘Pain-Easing Thorn’ and becomes unable to feel pain.”
“Since then, a decree was issued: any resident who doesn’t touch the boulder will be executed, while those who take the thorn receive a silver coin.”
“Back then, the boulder would tremble every day or two, and from within would burst a chilling scream. But as more and more people touched it, the disturbances grew weaker—from once every two days to once a month… now probably once every three months? Or half a year?”
This was intriguing news indeed.
Renith thought: if touching it grants the Thorn’s mark, then it makes sense to call it the source.
But how could a stone produce screams?
Granted, there were stone-like monsters, but they were akin to golems and lacked vocal cords.
Renith felt she absolutely had to see it for herself.
“Miss Anna, if possible, don’t linger too long in the city, and don’t touch that boulder—it might put you in danger.”
Mislean warned her kindly.
“I understand. Thank you.”
“But I have one more question—I think it’s important.”
Renith’s gaze fell on the children playing on the field, and she pressed on:
“We’re still some distance from Ungler City, and its decrees shouldn’t reach here. Yet that child just now bore the ‘Pain-Easing Thorn’—why?”
Mislean shook his head; Vimia shook hers too. They had no idea.
“Maybe it’s a coincidence? Maybe his family took him to Ungler City?”
That explanation was plausible, but Renith planned to ask the village chief—he might have a more accurate answer.
Just then, she turned around—not for any other reason, but because she heard footsteps behind her.
Speak of the devil.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Renith pulled the plainly dressed chief aside and asked about what she’d just heard.
The chief didn’t hide anything. He simply rolled up his sleeve, took a small knife from the table, and made a shallow cut.
Crimson blood welled up—and the strange thorny pattern reappeared.
“At some point, a number of us in the village simply developed this mark. We’ve never been to Ungler City, nor have we seen anyone from there come here.”
At Renith’s request—and with the persuasion of money—the chief removed his shirt.
Following the thorn’s origin, Renith saw that it sprouted from his flank and extended all the way to his arm and back.
“Thank you.”
Renith paid the chief a fee for his cooperation, then chatted about everyday matters before tidying up to leave with Mislean and Vimia, heading by car toward Ungler City.
“Miss Anna, take the front seat!”
Vimia seemed to have truly “come to”—her earlier shyness fading. She warmly urged Renith into the passenger seat.
Renith tried to decline, but couldn’t resist Vimia’s enthusiasm and was practically pulled into the car.
Mislean wore a look of mild resignation and weariness. Silently, he unstrapped the luggage from the back, lowered the rear flap, and pieced together a seat.
Then he hooked the trailer behind with side latches, ready to head to Ungler City.
With a resigned air, he put on his goggles and flashed an “OK” sign at the rearview mirror.
“All right, everyone—hold tight!”
Vimia started the engine. It roared to life, hauling their assorted bags toward Ungler City.
The village chief stood at the gate, beaming and waving goodbye.
Once the car had driven far enough, the chief turned and made his way to a small house at the other end of the village.
Pushing the door open, he found inside a man dressed just like himself. On the table before him lay stacks of paper—far more than any ordinary household could afford—and most conspicuous of all was a blank reward notice offering a hundred thousand gold.
The “chief” inside fiddled with a ring-like hoop wedged diagonally at the end of a pencil, a sly glint flickering in his eyes.
“This ‘Scholar’ sir,”
the real chief said deferentially.
“Three outsiders have set off toward Ungler City.”
“Mm, I heard you.”
The inside “chief” replied in a voice identical to the one outside.
“If they really are the ones on the wanted list, I won’t short-change your reward.”
