Although Gwof looked at Ben's cloak, shotgun, and the travel-worn air that overlapped with the fairy tale, and mostly believed he was the protagonist of 'the vegetable dish of transforming into a donkey', he still had some uncertainty before obtaining empirical evidence.
He decided to be straightforward, his gaze falling on Ben's worn-white knapsack strap: "May I ask if you have any treasures?"
If these words were spoken in the real world, they would likely be met with wary, cold looks, but this was the bizarre and kaleidoscopic Fairy Tale World.
Ben was stunned for a moment upon hearing this, then scratched the back of his head, showing a somewhat embarrassed smile, and answered frankly.
"Yes, I have treasures. It's because of them that I can travel everywhere without worrying about food and drink."
He raised his hand and patted the deep gray cloak on his body; although the fabric was old, it possessed a peculiar luster.
"The first treasure is this cloak. Wearing it, while thinking of the place I want to go and turning around, I can arrive there instantly, saving a lot of walking."
Leah's eyes widened as she listened, and the Ugly Duckling in her arms also flapped its wings as if in amazement.
Ben pointed to his chest again, his tone carrying a hint of magic: "The second is a Bird Heart. After I ate it, every morning when I wake up, there's always an extra piece of gold by my pillow, enough for the day's expenses."
"Whoa!"
The lollipop in Little Bottle's mouth fell to the ground with a 'clatter', but he didn't even bother to pick it up, his eyes bulging like copper bells.
"Those really are two good treasures! With these two, can't you go wherever you want without worrying about money?"
Leah leaned forward a few steps while holding the Ugly Duckling, her voice full of longing.
"Then... then can this cloak go to the happiest place in the world? The kind of place... where there's roast chicken every day and never-ending candy?"
Ben was amused by her serious look, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes smoothing out.
"Of course it can, but... I have to know the specific location first. I can't just search blindly based on the word 'happiness', right?"
After laughing enough, his gaze swept over Gwof, Leah, and Little Bottle, and he suddenly asked as if remembering something.
"By the way, where are you all going?"
Gwof was about to speak, but Leah had already chimed in, her voice as clear as a mountain spring: "Wherever we end up, that's where we go!"
Ben was stunned for a moment, a flash of doubt in his eyes, then as if understanding something, he asked tentatively.
"Are you... also Travelers?"
At this moment, Gwof was completely certain—someone who would frankly admit to having treasures and harbor such goodwill was mostly likely the righteous protagonist from the fairy tale.
He nodded in response: "Yes, we are also Travelers."
Ben observed them carefully: Little Bottle was sturdy as a tiger and broad as a bear, looking powerful; Leah was petite and fragile, holding a bald duck in her arms; Gwof looked like a half-grown youth, yet possessed a steady air.
The trio's luggage looked bulging, and their clothes were of high-quality material, suggesting a well-off family background.
But in this world, Travelers were the easiest targets for Bandits—those fox robbers hiding behind trees and bear bullies lurking in caves specifically chose teams that looked 'easy to pick on' to strike.
The more Ben thought about it, the more distressed he felt, and his gaze toward them grew a bit more pitying.
"Oh, my God."
He sighed softly, his tone full of worry.
"Traveling like this, you must have encountered many difficulties along the way, right?"
Before Gwof could answer, Ben took another step forward, the hem of his cloak brushing against the ferns by his feet, making a faint rustling sound.
His tone became increasingly sincere, and his eyes carried genuine concern: "This world looks beautiful, but it actually hides many dangerous places.
There are Bandits in the woods who specifically steal money from Travelers, Toad Wizards living in the marshes who love to deceive people, and even the wild flowers by the roadside could be soul-snatching monsters.
If you don't mind, please allow me to travel with you. That way, we can look out for each other."
The wind in the forest passed through the branches and leaves, making Ben's cloak flutter slightly. The hidden patterns of Anti-poison Vines embroidered on the edges flickered in the dappled light, as if wordlessly proving his statement.
Gwof looked at the sincerity in his eyes and already had his answer.
The protagonist in 'the vegetable dish of transforming into a donkey' was famously warm-hearted. With him along, they could not only avoid many fairy tale traps but might even stumble upon some interesting plot points.
He nodded slightly: "Alright."
So, the group of four continued to traverse the forest.
Gwof rode on the donkey, occasionally glancing at tree hollows or behind rocks, still wondering if he would run into the witches common in fairy tales.
After all, 'the vegetable dish of transforming into a donkey' mentioned that Ben later had a battle of wits with a pair of witches; that plot was much more interesting than simple travel.
Unfortunately, all along the way, let alone a witch's black cloak, they didn't even encounter a single talking crow.
There was only the boundless forest scenery: tall oak trees entwined with vines bearing white flowers, and the ground covered in a thick layer of fallen leaves that felt like sinking into soft cotton when stepped upon;
Occasionally, sunlight would spill through the gaps in the leaves, casting swaying spots of light on the ground like countless leaping golden beetles.
Ben seemed to notice his waning interest and explained with a smile.
"Travel is like this.
Sometimes after walking for half a day, the eyes see nothing but repeating tree shadows and stone paths, and the heart inevitably feels bored;
But perhaps around a bend, you'll stumble upon a fawn drinking by a stream, or wild berries hidden in rock crevices—just like at the forest entrance earlier, who would have thought that behind that unremarkable thicket of bushes lay a small lake that could reflect the shadows of the clouds?"
As he said this, his fingertips unconsciously stroked the hidden patterns on his cloak, as if speaking of something perfectly ordinary.
Gwof gave an "mm," understanding in his heart—it seemed Ben hadn't met those key witches yet; the current journey was merely the prologue to his story.
Although the scenery was indeed nice, and Leah and Little Bottle were watching with great interest—Leah was busy collecting leaves of various shapes, while Little Bottle picked a wild fruit by the road and tasted it, saying it was so sour his teeth ached—Gwof still felt a bit bored.
Fortunately, such tranquility didn't last long. After walking for about half an hour, the trees ahead gradually thinned out, and cooking smoke could be seen rising in the distance.
"There's a town ahead!"
Leah was the first to cheer, pointing at the chimneys on the distant roofs, her eyes shining like two stars.
Everyone's pace involuntarily quickened. As they stepped over the last dew-covered fallen leaf, the wooden sign for 'Pumpkin Town' shimmered with a warm glow in the sunlight.
The pumpkin pattern on the wooden sign was grinning, as if greeting visitors. The vine-entwined strokes were crooked and uneven, yet possessed a playful air.
The steep-roofed wooden houses in the town were like colored candies scattered on the green grass. The morning glories on the walls—purple, pink, and blue—climbed up the wood crevices, framing the windows like floral frames.
A few villagers carrying hoes walked by, their coarse cloth clothes embroidered with exquisite vine patterns, and even the brims of their straw hats were trimmed with a ring of gold thread;
A vagrant by the roadside leaned against a wall sunbathing. His old cloak, though somewhat worn, was embroidered with hidden patterns in silver thread, and he toyed with a lustrous jade bead in his hand—this outfit, let alone for a vagrant, was probably more decent than that of many nobles in other places.
The donkey's braying drew a few responses, yet no one gave them a second glance.
The Woman mending clothes held colorful silk thread between her fingertips, embroidering a butterfly with fluttering wings on the fabric. The Ugly Duckling in Leah's arms flapped its wings twice, and she looked up and smiled at the Woman.
The Woman only nodded faintly, her gaze falling back to her needlework, as if the strangers before her were not as important as the embroidery thread in her hand.
"After the gold again, aren't you?"
A peddler passed by carrying a shoulder pole, the silk in his bamboo baskets shimmering in the sunlight. His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a stone thrown into a calm pond.
An old shoemaker was driving an awl into a shoe sole. The sound of the iron awl piercing the leather went 'puff', mixed with his laughter.
"You'll need skill for that."
"The last group that came looked very capable, but didn't they still pack up and leave in disgrace?"
Gwof had sharp ears and heard these words clearly, his brow arching imperceptibly—it seemed this small town wasn't simple. Was there some trick regarding 'gold'?
They soon arrived at the restaurant in town hanging a sign for 'Pumpkin Restaurant'.
As soon as they pushed open the wooden door, a wave of heat mixed with the scents of roast meat, ale, and human voices hit them.
There were seven or eight wooden tables in the room, almost all filled with people: town residents in coarse cloth tunics were chatting animatedly, with pottery bowls on the tables filled with amber-colored ale;
A few travel-worn merchants surrounded a large table, holding parchment, likely discussing business;
In the corner sat two Travelers wrapped in cloaks, heads down sipping soup, their expressions wary.
Ben scanned the noisy restaurant and quickly spotted an empty table by the window, with a bit of uncleaned jam still on the corner.
He raised his hand to signal Gwof and the others: "Let's sit over there, we can see the street view."
Once everyone was seated, he himself turned and walked toward the counter.
The restaurant owner was a fat man wearing a greasy apron, the stains on the apron layered so thickly they looked like they had been soaked in meat broth for ten years.
Seeing Ben, the fat on his face bunched into a mass of smiles, and the rag in his hand circled on the counter.
"Welcome! What would you like to eat today? Freshly roasted wild boar meat, so oily and fragrant it could make a Child cry with envy!"
"Four portions of roast wild boar meat, on the bone, with extra black pepper."
Ben's speed was steady as he ordered, as if reciting a string of perfectly ordinary numbers.
"And two jugs of hot ale, warmed so it doesn't burn the mouth. Oh, right, an apple pie for the young lady."
After ordering, his fingertips tapped lightly on the counter: "By the way, what is this town called? It looks quite lively."
The owner was wiping a pottery cup with a rag and answered without looking up.
"This is a border town of Clothes Country, called 'Pumpkin Town'. See that wooden sign at the door? The one with the grinning pumpkin, that's our town symbol."
He said this as if he had said it a thousand times, his tone as flat as if he were saying 'the weather is nice today'.
"The people of this country love nothing more than clothes. As long as they have a couple of spare coins in their pockets, they immediately go to buy fabric and find a tailor. The fabric must be Cloud Silk Cotton, so soft you could drink it like water; the embroidery thread must be made from ground South Sea Pearls, so bright you can see your reflection; even the buttons must be ground from agate and jade, anything less feels beneath them."
He paused and tilted his chin toward the center of town, his voice lowering slightly as if telling some grand secret.
"If you want to talk about the craziest, it has to be our King.
I heard the clothes in his palace are piled like mountains; from the bedchamber to the garden, they're piled all the way, you can't even step between them.
He changes his clothes eight times a day—wearing phoenix-embroidered ones in the morning, switching to gem-encrusted ones at noon, and donning silver-threaded ones in the evening, yet he always complains there are no new styles.
A while ago, he sent someone on a fast horse to a neighboring country to collect a batch of glowing thread, saying he wanted to make a robe that, when worn at night, would be as bright as day, saving even the need for streetlights."
...Leah listened with eyes wide and round, her long eyelashes fluttering. Her small hand gently patted the head of the Ugly Duckling in her arms, her voice full of wonder.
"Changing clothes eight times a day? How many boxes would it take to hold them all?!"
Little Bottle was staring at the roast chicken just served at the neighboring table and salivating, his Adam's apple bobbing. Hearing this, he smacked his lips, his tone full of incomprehension.
"What's the use of changing so often? Can you eat it? I think it's not as practical as gnawing on a few more pieces of roast chicken."
Ben was amused by their words, a bit of warmth lingering in the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. When he turned to look at Gwof, there was a hint of inquiry in his eyes.
"Clothes Country... I've heard a rumor that the tailors here have heavenly skills and can make clothes that change color—red when hot, blue when cold, and even changing patterns when meeting different people. I wonder if it's true."
Gwof didn't speak, just looked out the window.
A girl in a lake-blue silk dress walked by on the street. The peacock pattern embroidered on her skirt actually seemed to come alive in the sunlight, the tail feathers trembling slightly, and even the eyespots seemed to be blinking.
He suddenly remembered a fairy tale he had heard in his previous life about a king who loved wearing new clothes and was tricked by two self-proclaimed 'weavers' into believing they could weave clothes only wise people could see, eventually parading naked through the streets... Could the King of this Clothes Country be the protagonist of that story?
Just as he was thinking, the owner came over with a large tray. The roast wild boar meat on the tray was glistening with oil, and the fragrance of the oil mixed with the pungency of the black pepper instantly overpowered the scent of ale and sweat in the room.
"Enjoy, guests!"
He placed the plate on the table, and the oil'sizzled' and splattered onto the wooden table, leaving a few shiny spots.
"By the way, when I saw you come in earlier, everyone in town was whispering about gold, right?"
He sighed and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve: "Sigh, it's a headache to talk about. For some reason, this small town has been plagued by rats for the past month. They're fatter than cats, running on the house beams at night and stealing grain during the day, even gnawing on the silk thread in the tailor shops. The townspeople pooled their money, ten boxes of gold in total, hoping a capable person can drive these rats away."
"Ten boxes of gold?"
Little Bottle's eyes instantly lit up like two oil lamps suddenly ignited, and the knife and fork in his hands 'clanged' together. "How much would that be?"
Gwof's fingertips tapped lightly on the edge of the table at an unhurried pace.
He looked out the window, a faint, almost imperceptible smile curling the corner of his mouth—rats, gold, a King who loved wearing new clothes... it seemed this Clothes Country was much more interesting than imagined.