Master Says the Drawn Traits Must Not Be Wasted

Chapter 184: Chapter 183: Drowning Light Moss

A low-hanging morning fog shrouded the lake.

It was late autumn, and the endless reeds had long shed their midsummer green, leaving only a stretch of withered, dull yellow.

A slight breeze rustled the reeds, their stalks scraping together with a dry, desolate sound.

Dew condensed on the bare branches into heavy droplets that fell, creating ripples on the ink-green surface of the lake.

CHIRP—

A short chirp broke the silence. A grayish-brown shadow shot out from a hidden patch of reeds, its flapping wings spraying a few droplets of water.

A simple boat launch was tucked deep within the reeds, and a strangely shaped small boat was moored there.

It was wider than a typical fishing boat, with an extremely low hull and almost no keel. Its flat bottom looked as if it had been shaved down by some immense force.

This design allowed it to navigate swamps and shallows with ease. The boat’s draft was so shallow that its hull barely kissed the surface of the water.

At that moment, Hom was deftly untying the mooring rope.

Once the rope was free, he turned and called out, ”Alright, honored Adventurers, please get on board. I’ll pole the boat from the back.”

Bruce carefully tested the gangplank with a paw, and only after confirming it was sturdy did he jump aboard. He then found a spot at the bow and sat, his nose twitching as he sniffed at the fog ahead.

Once Hesia and the others were settled, Hom picked up a long pole from the bank and hopped onto the small boat.

There was no telling what kind of wood the long pole was made from, but it had been worn to a glossy sheen, clearly having seen many years of use.

Interestingly, a strange object was tied to the bottom of the pole.

Hesia studied it for a long moment before he could make out the object’s shape through its coating of mud—it was an old shoe.

”Everyone sit tight!” Hom shouted, then gave a powerful push with the pole.

As the ”shoe” left a footprint in the mud, the small boat slid silently into the morning fog.

The boat moved slowly. Hom stood at the stern, his eyes fixed on the seemingly placid surface of the water, occasionally dipping the tip of his long pole into it.

”This godsforsaken place smells even worse than last time,” Grek grumbled, hugging his arms and hunching his shoulders.

Hayley reached out, dabbing a finger into a droplet that had splashed onto the gunwale. The water was murky, tinted a faint black. ”So this is how the Blackwater Swamp got its name.”

”You’ve got that right,” Hom chimed in as he poled the water again, steering the boat around a submerged log. ”The surface looks calm, but underneath it’s full of rotten wood and stones washed down by floods a few years back. And look at this water—the deeper we go, the blacker it gets. We locals have a saying that the swamp goddess is washing her feet down there, but she’s not scrubbing them clean.”

Mr. Hughes pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. ”Regardless of which Deity it is,” he said mildly, ”we should show them respect.”

Hom chuckled, revealing a mouth full of yellow teeth. ”Naturally. But I’m guessing this goddess has some serious foot odor.”

He had barely finished speaking when the boat gave a sudden, gentle lurch.

”WOOF!”

Bruce lost his footing and slid across the deck. If Hesia hadn’t caught him, he would have plunged into the lake.

He scrambled up, shook his head, and let out another woof at Hom, as if complaining about his steering.

Hesia ruffled the fur on Bruce’s head, signaling for him to be quiet.

He noticed that the earlier lurch had been the boat deftly maneuvering around a darker patch of water that looked like it concealed a hidden reef.

”It’s nothing,” Hom explained. ”The Frogmen don’t usually surface around this time of day.”

As if to further prove his familiarity with the area, he pointed to a seemingly ordinary patch of water off the starboard bow.

”There’s a big patch of Drowning Light Moss down there.”

”Drowning Light Moss? Is it useful for anything?” Hesia asked, looking at him curiously.

”It’s something you can use for light at night. If you dry it, grind it to a powder, and mix it with water, it’ll glow for several hours.”

”We usually just gather it to sell, though. Heard it’s used to make some kind of liquid that reveals invisible Demons.”

”A Revealing Potion?” Hughes prompted.

”Yes, yes, I think that’s the name. A pound of it sells for a good number of Silver Scales. But you have to wait until winter for the water level to drop so you can get to it.”

Grek squinted, but all he could see was water. He curled his lip. ”Oh, really? It’s not the right season anyway, so you can spin whatever tales you like.”

RUMBLE—

Before he could finish, a thick stone pillar burst from the water, its top densely covered in a fuzzy, green, thread-like moss.

Grek’s mouth hung open. He stood speechless for a long moment. ”It’s... it’s really there?”

Hom was dumbfounded, too. His mouth gaped even wider than Grek’s, his hand gripping the pole frozen in midair. He stared blankly at the pillar that had erupted from the depths, momentarily forgetting where he was.

”What are you standing there gaping for?” Hesia’s voice broke the silence. ”Pole the boat over there.”

The stone pillar was, of course, the result of Hesia’s enhanced Earth Spike Technique.

He hadn’t given it much thought, assuming it was just something the locals used for light, until he heard those three words: ”sells for money.”

”Oh... Oh! Right!” Hom snapped out of his daze and frantically poled the boat over.

Hayley and Hughes came forward as well, carefully scraping the slick moss from the stone pillar and stuffing it into a spare burlap sack they had on the boat.

As he helped, Hom couldn’t stop clicking his tongue in amazement. ”My gods... In past winters, when the water level drops, everyone in town fights tooth and nail over this stuff. Show up late, and you won’t find a single strand left. I never... I never imagined you could harvest it like this!”

Hesia paid no mind to his astonishment and simply asked, ”Where else can we find it?”

”Yes! Yes! There’s another big patch under that mud flat up ahead!” Hom exclaimed, pointing excitedly in another direction.

RUMBLE—

Another stone pillar burst from the water.

Ultimately, the group didn’t collect a huge amount. The boat was only so big, and after filling two and a half burlap sacks, its hull was already sitting dangerously low in the water.

Still, the successful harvest lightened the mood considerably.

Hom continued to pole the boat, growing more talkative. ”Navigating this godsforsaken place takes more than just strength. You have to know which waters look shallow but run deep, which reeds hide broken pilings that’ll gut your boat, which patch of mud looks solid but will swallow you up to the hip...” He paused, glancing at Grek. ”And of course, the most important thing is to trust the tall tales of ’Mudfoot’ here.”

Grek turned his head away in embarrassment, pretending to be engrossed by a water bird perched on a distant dead tree. ”Hmph... I guess you know what you’re doing after all.”

The others let out a soft laugh, though it was hard to say if it was at Grek’s expense or from the pleasure of their unexpected haul so early in the trip.

Regardless, Hom had already begun to prove his worth as a guide.

The small boat continued on toward the heart of the swamp, leaving the morning fog behind.