It was the following day in the afternoon. The winds died down and the sandstorm subsided, letting the warm sun shine on the salty wasteland.

A small group of about a dozen men slowly made their way across the white expanse, all of them donning white gowns and cloth head covers typical of the desert people.

With each step they took, their feet sank into the soft white sand, making their advancements slow and arduous.

"We should be arriving at the Wailing Canyon by tomorrow. There we'll get our mounts and then continue to the final destination where they last sighted the Phoenix," Dug said as he explained the plan to Gerald, holding a crude map as he did so.

Hours ago, they filled their stores with water from the river before departing, and bought the clothes they were currently wearing for ease of travel.

Dug was curious where Gerald was keeping all his stuff since it didn't seem he was carrying any with him.

"I got it right here," Gerald said back then, showing a Space Pouch on his hip. He carried one just for cases like this.

"Oh, I see! You got them as well!" Dug grinned and showed his two Space Pouches, one on each side. "They are so expensive, aren't they? They sent me back nearly a thousand gold, and that was after I convinced the guy to give me a discount! That's nearly all of my wealth, so we must find the Phoenix!"

"500 gold each? Wow…" Gerald exclaimed. "I guess you bought it from a merchant?"

"Yes, why?"

Gerald tried to keep his expression neutral and stop himself from laughing, but it was a bit difficult. "I bought mine at the source… for 100 gold!" he said.

Dug opened his eyes wide, and his face became a sheet of scarlet. "That shit-spouting bastard! I got scammed! I swear to god if I ever see that guy again…!"

His teammates had to keep him down else he would jump back on the ship to settle the scores with the scamming merchant back home.

"Hehe…" Gerald chuckled, remembering Dug's expression. By now he has already calmed down, realizing it was already too late to do anything. Who knew where that slimy weasel would hide? He was a traveling merchant, after all, never staying in one place for too long.

"Hey, are you listening?" Dug nudged him. "We need to be wary of any nomadic tribes in this wasteland. The constant territory disputes left the people here extremely untrusting of outsiders. And worst of all, they are constantly moving around, making it difficult to avoid them," he said seriously.

"We need to be aware of our surroundings at all times, especially against the Sand Walkers and Dry Bone tribe. They are known for their aggressiveness and they attacked many merchant caravans in the past, usually leaving only a few survivors," Dug warned.

The visibility was poor, with all the white dunes and hot air making anything more than a kilometer away blurry or completely hidden behind mountains of sand. They could almost be walking right by a nomad campsite and not know it.

The Great Desert was unforgiving. Many sun-bleached white bones decorated the landscape, half-covered by dust and sand. Only small, salt-resistant plants grew in a few shady places, but even those had thorns to protect themselves from being eaten.

On rare occasions, they saw small patches of green in the distance as a tiny spring provided a bit of moisture. However, the thirsty soil quickly sucked it all away, leaving only damp ground with a few woody bushes and trees surviving on it.

It was a hellish place for a human to inhabit.

And yet, the group made their way forward, sweating, panting, but marching in a single file without complaining nonetheless.

Soon evening came and with it the cool breeze of the night. While some of them were already tired, now was not a time for rest. Throughout the night they marched, guided by the stars and the moon, enjoying the clear skies and quiet land around them.

The temperature dropped gradually, forcing the group of warriors to put on a few extra layers of warm wooly clothes. It was the complete opposite of the daylight heatwave.

"Boss! I need to take a leak," one of the men in the group said all of a sudden. They were walking for hours without rest and he was getting restless.

"Alright… Twenty minutes rest everybody," Dug decided and unloaded some of his stuff and stretched his back. "Eat something if you have to, there's still a long road ahead!" He then walked not far away on top of a dune and sat down, observing the moonlight-covered landscape.

Everything seemed quiet.

"Uff, finally!" Many members of the group sat down and took something to eat or drink. "I'm starving!"

They finished their meal on solid ground where the desert winds didn't yet cover the bedrock with sand. A few tiny desert plants grew there among the cracks, but they were currently all shriveled up, patiently waiting for the next rainfall.

"Watch it! There is a scorpion!" Gerald suddenly warned. A guy nearly sat on the small little thing when he noticed it.

"Oh? This little guy?" He actually went and picked it up, holding it playfully in his palm. "Look at this guy, isn't he cute?"

"I don't know man, what if it's venomous?" another guy said, taking a step back.

"Yeah? So what? Look at how small he is, no way he's dangerous!"

The scorpion was about three centimeters in length, with a girthy body, and a tiny stinger. But as they say, it's not the size that matters, but how you use it.

The little insect got frustrated from being handled like an object and quickly twisted around, escaping the man's grip.

"Ouch!" the guy jumped and shook his hand, tossing the scorpion away. "He stung me!"

"I told you not to mess with it!"

"Damn, that really scared me," the guy laughed and sucked his finger where he got stung. "At least it doesn't hurt that much…"