Chapter 41: Rogge Camp |
Rogge Camp's settlement was nestled in a valley between two towering mountains to the east of Redwood Ridge. Both mountains stretched vertically, rising two to three thousand meters from the ground. Like Pagoda Mountain where Boulder Camp was located, these mountains were encased in layers of pitch-black frost crystals formed from years of freezing temperatures.
Since these mountains were taller than Pagoda Mountain, their frost layers were naturally thicker. Strangely, however, the black ice crystals grew thinner and paler the closer they were to the base, until near ground level, where they faded entirely into ordinary stone.
Upon closer inspection, thin wisps of white mist coiled around the rocky cliffs. As the mist rose, it melted the black crystals, turning them into droplets that trickled down the stone.
"The heat from burning coal can even melt these age-old ice layers. Rogge Camp must never have anyone freeze to death," Hong Gang remarked bluntly, unable to hold back his admiration even after spending half a month here.
The other three camp leaders, Shi Qing, and their respective Lumberjack Realm subordinates all wore envious expressions as they observed the rising mist.
"Freeze to death? What a joke!" one of Luo Ming's subordinates scoffed proudly. "Not only does everyone in Rogge Camp have a fur coat, but with these coal reserves providing year-round warmth, we haven’t lost a single soul to the cold in twenty years."
The mention of two decades without a single cold-related death deepened the envy on everyone’s faces—especially the leaders of the five smaller camps, who understood the significance all too well.
Strictly speaking, compared to Frost Beasts and Abominations, the cold was the least of humanity’s survival challenges. Yet, even so, every camp still lost people to the freezing temperatures each year.
The smaller camps relied solely on firewood for warmth, but gathering lumber was never guaranteed. If they were unlucky enough to encounter a Frost Beast, not only would they return empty-handed, but they might also lose their lives.
Beyond the difficulty of gathering wood, the physical resilience of their ordinary camp members—especially children—was another major issue. Even with shelter in caves and fires for warmth, sudden temperature drops could still claim lives.
So while twenty years without a single cold death might seem trivial to Rogge Camp, for the five smaller camps, it was an impossible dream.
Where there was envy, there was also disdain.
"Bunch of backwater savages, making a fuss over something so insignificant. How pathetic," Li Hu sneered, his contempt stark compared to the others' admiration.
Still bitter over earlier events, he didn’t hold back, outright calling them "backwater savages" to mock their lack of sophistication.
Though Yang Ning remained silent, his expression mirrored Li Hu’s disdain.
"Even the slightly stronger mid-sized camps know to use coal to soften the ground and cultivate crops. Yet all you do is burn it for warmth, completely oblivious to its real value. You’re sitting on a treasure and don’t even know how to use it—how utterly stupid."
Most ignored his words, but Luo Ming’s eyes lit up with realization.
"Thank you for the guidance, sir. I had no idea coal could be used this way."
Li Hu stiffened. His intention had been to mock, not offer advice. But seeing an opportunity to twist the knife, he added coldly, "Don’t celebrate too soon. Cultivating crops requires vast amounts of land, and softening the ground demands more coal than your five Digging Realm members could mine in a decade."
Luo Ming’s excitement evaporated instantly. Though he said nothing, the five smaller camp leaders glared at Li Hu with barely concealed fury, disgusted by his mockery.
"Enough chatter. Let’s move," Yang Ning interjected, noting their hostility. Though displeased, he simply shot Li Hu a warning glance and motioned for everyone to proceed.
"Please, let’s head inside first," Luo Ming said, his composure unshaken as if Li Hu’s provocation had never happened.
As they walked, they soon reached the heart of the valley.
Despite being a mid-sized camp, Rogge Camp, like Great Xia and Boulder Camps, was well-hidden. The entrance was blocked by massive boulders and fallen trees—an obstacle that would deter anyone from suspecting a settlement of over a thousand people lay beyond.
Luo Ming led the group around the left side of the debris. Several of his men moved ahead with practiced ease, pulling out a massive log—five meters in diameter and over fifty meters long—from a pile of rotting wood.
Common sense dictated that removing such a crucial support would send the surrounding rubble crashing down. Yet, nothing moved. Instead, a thirty-meter-long passage materialized amidst the rocks and timber.
Unfazed, the group followed Luo Ming inside.
Beyond the passage, the full scope of the valley unfolded.
The exact depth was unclear, but the width spanned three to four hundred meters. Most remarkably, the two mountains arched overhead, their peaks interlocking to seal the valley completely, blocking out all natural light.
But that alone wasn’t enough to fend off the extreme cold.
Unlike Great Xia and Boulder Camps, which relied on enclosed spaces and bonfires for warmth, Rogge Camp had constructed five enormous wooden structures within the valley.
"Buildings" wasn’t quite accurate—they were more like massive boxes assembled from giant timber.
Each square structure measured roughly fifty meters wide, easily housing hundreds. Inside, fires burned, their white smoke escaping through ventilation holes while the murmur of conversation drifted out.
Bathed in the golden glow of the flames, the wooden walls shimmered faintly—proof they were built from the sturdiest golden frost trees.
"The moment we step inside, the cold vanishes. Nothing beats burning coal," Hong Gang mused, stretching his hand out to feel the warmth.
Camp members approached to greet them, but Luo Ming dismissed them with a wave, leading the group toward the innermost structure.
Just as they were about to enter, Shi Dong, who had been trailing behind Shi Qing, suddenly stiffened and turned toward the left side of the building.
"Brother, what’s that place?"
Following his gaze, Shi Qing noticed a small wooden hut, no more than ten meters wide, nestled beside the main structure.
Luo Ming noticed their curiosity and approached. "That’s my father’s residence."
Both men froze.
Luo Ming’s father—the former leader of Rogge Camp.
Luo Feng?
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