Chapter 164 - At the Border of Knot Knowing

Creaking… the wooden wheels of the wagon were creaking with a mountain of goods being huddled tightly—even more so than before—under its ashen bonnet of a roof. Thus groaning in joy was its wooden bed, because for the first time since long, its wooden self was finally able to carry so much to help the one who steered it and the little village from which he came. From humble and simple provisions such as three crates of plum turnip and seven crates of apples, to prime cuts of Alikanto's meat neatly wrapped and stacked together in figgy leaves—all stood in stark contrast to the old and warped farming tools tucked into one of its remote corners,