Wizard Starts Farming With Mini Skeletons
Chapter 51

Chapter 51: Chapter 51

Clayton stood frozen. The person tailing him was someone he once thought decent—someone he never imagined would do such a thing.

It was none other than Arowmfa—the man who had previously acted polite and friendly, even offering Clayton advice. In that moment, Clayton realized: you really can’t judge a book by its cover. He reminded himself to be more careful next time—not to fall for a kind face hiding darker motives.

Clayton raised his hand more deliberately now, his fingers shaped like a gun, ready to strike at the slightest move.

Arowmfa, confronted by the sight, was visibly shaken. Goosebumps rose across his skin, and his scalp tingled.

He had never expected that someone like Clayton—who looked like a harmless, lowly farmer—could exude such terrifying pressure.

"Brother, I think there’s been a misunderstanding..." Arowmfa said, forcing a smile despite his pale complexion.

Clayton narrowed his eyes. "Cut the act. Tell me what you’re really after."

Arowmfa looked uneasy, clearly afraid that Clayton wouldn’t let him explain and might just kill him outright. Despite Clayton’s strange and even comical appearance—with his miniature skeletons—Arowmfa’s instincts as a mage screamed: This man is dangerous.

"I swear, I’m not lying! I followed you for business—nothing more! I mean no harm!"

"Business, huh?" Clayton scoffed. "Didn’t we just finish a trading session? Why not approach me then? Why creep after me like a stalker instead? Just tell the truth!"

Arowmfa hesitated. He didn’t know what to say. Clayton noticed the pause and grew even more convinced that Arowmfa was hiding something. The thought of eliminating him began to take root.

If Clayton hadn’t discovered that the man was a mage with a family, he might have killed him without a second thought.

Not because he felt pity or sympathy for the man’s family—no, that wasn’t it. The real reason was fear: fear that killing him, though it seemed like the quickest solution, might actually trigger something far worse.

Clayton still didn’t fully understand how strange or complex magic was in this world. For all he knew, the man’s family might be able to sense whether he was alive or dead—or even track down whoever killed him. That possibility alone was enough to make Clayton hesitate.

Lost in thought, he frowned deeply, his mind a tangled mess.

Arowmfa, noticing the shift in Clayton’s expression, grew uneasy. But he didn’t dare speak or move. He knew that disturbing Clayton in this state could easily provoke his wrath.

Finally, Clayton offered a chance. "Alright. Explain yourself. If what you say doesn’t make sense... you’re not walking away from this."

Arowmfa let out a shaky breath. The fear still lingered in his eyes, but he knew this was his only shot.

"Okay... My family’s been in the incense trade for generations—"

"Get to the point," Clayton interrupted coldly.

Annoyed by the cut-in but unwilling to provoke Clayton further, Arowmfa swallowed his pride and continued.

"Ever since you sat next to me earlier, I picked up a very particular scent. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but the aroma got stronger... and strangely familiar. I wanted to ask you about it, but I was afraid you’d misunderstand, so I hesitated. I ended up following you, trying to decide whether to speak up."

Clayton processed his words and sniffed himself—but caught nothing.

Seeing the skepticism on Clayton’s face, Arowmfa quickly added, "Normal people wouldn’t notice it. Only someone trained to identify rare fragrances would pick it up."

Clayton remained suspicious. He couldn’t recall being around anything that smelled like what Arowmfa described. It felt like a cheap excuse to save his life.

Clayton began channeling mana. His expression sharpened as a water projectile began to form.

"No! I swear I’m telling the truth! Clayton, please—calm down!"

But Clayton wasn’t listening.

A sharp light flared in his eyes.

Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap!

The miniature skeletons raised their arms, mimicking guns, ready to fire in unison.

"AAARGH!" Arowmfa screamed, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing for death.

But the pain never came.

He hesitantly opened his eyes. Everything around him looked normal—except for the deep holes carved into the ground nearby.

His pupils shrank.

Clayton had fired—every shot deliberately missing him by inches.

Arowmfa trembled. Was Clayton going to attack again?

Instead, Clayton asked calmly, "Explain more clearly. What scent are you talking about?"

Arowmfa looked as if a divine pardon had been granted.

"So... you’re not going to kill me?" he asked hopefully. "If you promise not to—"

"Just talk. You’re in no position to negotiate," Clayton said flatly.

Arowmfa swallowed and gathered himself.

"The scent comes from a rare blend—resin, wood, musk, bezoar, and more. Each component has a distinct use and aroma. The scent I smelled on you would be ideal for the incense my family crafts."

Without a word, Clayton reached into his satchel and pulled something out.

"You mean this?"

Arowmfa’s eyes widened. He took a deep sniff.

"Yes! That’s it... That’s century-old agarwood!"

He instinctively reached for it, but Clayton pulled it back.

"You think that gets you off the hook?" Clayton asked calmly.

"Of course! Doesn’t this prove I wasn’t lying?"

Clayton gave a faint smile. "Even if you’re telling the truth... doesn’t mean I can’t still kill you."

Arowmfa smirked nervously. "If you really wanted me dead, you wouldn’t have waited this long."

Clayton had to admit, that was true. If he’d intended to kill Arowmfa just to be safe, he would have done it already. But now, knowing Arowmfa wasn’t an immediate threat, something in him hesitated.

He couldn’t explain it, but he felt that killing Arowmfa now would cause him to lose something—something inside himself he couldn’t get back.

So, he turned and walked away.

Arowmfa hurried after him. "Wait, Brother Clayton!"

Clayton glanced over his shoulder, unimpressed. "What now?"

"Would you consider selling me that agarwood? I need it for incense-making."

"No. I need it too."

"Please! I doubt you’ll use it to its full potential! Let me—"

"No."

Frustrated, Arowmfa paused, then offered, "Alright—how about this: I’ll make incense out of it for you. It’ll be more effective and longer-lasting than just burning it raw."

Clayton still wasn’t interested. He remembered the flaws in Arowmfa’s incense during that academy presentation.

"No. Not interested."

Arowmfa grew desperate. "Come on! This is a rare chance! Last I heard, a similar piece of agarwood showed up at the Winter Festival, but the seller vanished..."

Clayton paused. Wait... wasn’t that me?

Arowmfa kept pleading as they walked, and eventually, Clayton relented and handed over the wood.

Arowmfa was overjoyed.

"As thanks, let me give you something in return! This is a crystal token from my family—it’s worth several times more than the wood. I’ll bring the finished incense to you soon!"

Clayton nodded.

They discussed a few more details before parting ways.

Clayton sighed in relief and resumed his walk home. Everything seemed quiet... until he neared his house and felt it:

A presence.

A group was approaching.

Clayton immediately raised his guard.

"After that false alarm earlier... is this the real one?"