Chapter 9

Approaching seven thousand characters.

They all say it would be better to split it into two chapters to get more clicks...

However, I really don't like the idea of doing something that feels deceptive...

---

...Under the convergence of four pairs of eyes, a small figure slipped out from behind a pillar.

Indeed, it slipped out, for his small body was only half the size of an ordinary person. He was somewhat hunched, but his movements were surprisingly quick, as if in the blink of an eye, he was already standing by the table...

His body, only a little over two feet tall, made the gray cloth cloak almost drag on the ground. The hood was pulled back, revealing a mess of hair, which added a touch of comedy—though at first glance, one might think it was just a child, the long sideburns, rosy complexion, and the furry feet visible under the cloak revealed his true identity.

A halfling.

Only a race of intelligent beings accustomed to mingling with humans would dare to make such an uninvited appearance, for they never knew what fear or embarrassment felt like.

"Ha ha ha... Don't worry, it's just a little joke, yes, just an unreliable legend... Oh, my apologies, I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Jack, and everyone here calls me Jack the Magpie. Please don't look at me with such strange eyes, everyone. I'm just a farmer living in this town..."

Spouting a bunch of nonsense in a chatty voice, the little man nimbly jumped onto a nearby chair, performed a comical bow like a third-rate clown, and smiled broadly, chattering on: "Oh, of course, what else could it be? My father was a farmer, and his father and his father's father were farmers too, so I should be one too... But, as you all probably know, these days, life is tough, and it's hard to make ends meet with just farming, so we honest farmers have to find some side jobs within our capabilities..."

But clearly, he ignored whether the people here wanted or welcomed his actions.

"If you want to find companions, go downstairs... We're just passing through and have no interest in your tricks or your legends," the knight named Jude frowned.

Anyone with some experience wouldn't believe such words—halflings were all capable opportunists, cunning and intelligent, though some were reliable and diligent, many were thieves who would run off with a quick profit, preferring trouble to boredom, with a strong curiosity and a complete lack of understanding of danger. So not everyone liked them, especially this one, whose bright eyes seemed to be constantly hatching schemes.

Moreover, his stealthy approach, the subtle marks of sword and wear on the old leather armor under his cloak, clearly showed he was not a farmer but a seasoned wanderer—another name for thieves and ruffians.

"Companions? No, no, no, you must have misunderstood."

The blunt words were almost a dismissal, but the little man's smile didn't waver, and his feet didn't move an inch: "I'm just a useless little person, with no skills, and I don't want to go into the forest for a tour. I can only provide some useful information to newcomers like you... Of course, with your abilities, crossing the entire Whispering Forest wouldn't be particularly difficult, but I believe you're not the type who adventures just for the sake of it. I, Jack, provide information that has been verified by cave bears, no cheating, guaranteed quality. Want to capture rare magical beasts? I can provide the locations of eighty percent of the valuable magical beasts in the forest. Want to dig for good minerals? Adamantine, mithril, black iron, or red and blue gems, crystal veins, I know a bit about them... In short, I can ensure that your adventure will be simpler and more colorful."

"We don't need it."

"Ah, sirs, please don't try to fob off Jack, that's too heartbreaking, especially when it's so obvious." The halfling laughed, shaking his head: "Why hide it? Poplar Town... tsk tsk, though thanks to Lord James, it's a decent place in the Western Fiefdom, but how many highborn people from Loden or Mancheste would come to this poor countryside if they didn't want to enter the Whispering Forest?... How about this, if you're not short of money, I can try to find some famous cave bear groups; they've been to the forest many times and have even drawn maps of the area—"

The sharp chatter suddenly stopped...

An iron gauntlet had suddenly grabbed the halfling's thin shoulder, and then a white glow flashed, enveloping him like water!

"You... no, sir, sir, you... are a paladin?"

The rosy color on the halfling's face instantly faded, but he quickly regained his composure—though as the enforcers of order and embodiments of justice, paladins had the right to make life-and-death decisions, their principle was to protect the good and fight evil... and the faint blue glow that the divine magic revealed on him indicated he hadn't committed any serious crimes, which was guaranteed by divine power.

"Let's hear what he has to say." On the other side, the female mage in the black robe suddenly spoke, lifting her sleeve, and a shiny trinket clinked onto the table.

The self-proclaimed Jack's eyes immediately went wide.

It wasn't ordinary money; it shone with a white light, different from silver coins—white gold coins, worth ten times as much as gold coins. In most areas of the Western Fiefdom, their exchange value was even higher by half... The halfling respectfully lowered his head, involuntarily licking his lips, but his eyes were fixed on the trinket.

"Alright, alright, whatever you're interested in, I, Jack, will tell you everything..."

"Then, why are so many people gathered here?"

"The Whispering Forest is a place where magical beasts gather. Though it's dangerous, the things produced there can always fetch a lot of gold from mages and fur traders... Naturally, more and more cave bears are gathering here..."

"It doesn't sound true."

"No, no, no, in the name of divine magic, I'm not lying."

"...You're hiding something."

"I only know this much... Alright, alright, I'll tell you." The halfling's sharp voice was as fast as popping beans—this spellcaster clearly didn't like his nonsense, so the white gold coin was already moving away from him.

"Rumors say there are open silver veins in the forest. Some people have seen them, and some have even gotten rich... So recently, many people coming here are dreaming of getting rich. Everyone says it's a myth, but as you can see, some people would rather believe it... And the rumors are getting more and more exaggerated. From silver, to gold, now people are talking about mithril and adamantine..."

"Open veins?" The young paladin's voice wavered slightly, not friendly: "The ownership of metal mines belongs to the kingdom, to His Majesty the King. How can anyone mine without permission?"

"Sir, no one here uses the word 'mine'... It's just digging or finding..." Jack waved a finger: "And, of course, that's just a rumor among a few people. Most return empty-handed... But you know, people only see the few successful cases... Besides, those who got rich didn't find much. The Whispering Forest is mysterious. No one can find the veins they once saw, never. And the money they made was lost at the gambling table, gone in a flash."

"Easy come, easy go... That's always the case for these scoundrels." The paladin snorted.

"Of course, there's also... also..." The halfling watched the white gold coin slowly move closer, reaching out to catch it, but for a moment his voice seemed to falter—a beautiful purple light flashed on the coin, then disappeared without a trace.

But when he spoke again, his voice no longer had that slippery tone.

"It's just on the surface, but as far as I know... Hmm, these seem to be rumors spread by Edward. In fact, there might not be any mines at all, just a way to attract adventurers?"

He swallowed, carefully scanning the surroundings, lowering his voice as if he was no longer facing strangers but longtime companions: "You know, the more adventurers there are, the more good things come out of the Whispering Forest, and they can lower the prices of good things... The more people, the more Poplar Town earns. With gold coins, they can attract merchants, and with more merchants, the magical beasts, herbs, and alchemical materials from the forest can fetch higher prices... See that big road outside? That was expanded for free by the merchants, without costing Lord James a penny?"

"Who is this Edward?"

"Really don't know who Edward is? I'll tell you, you'll have a hard time here if you don't know..." The halfling gave the knight who asked the question a dirty look, then rattled off a list of titles: "Well, since you asked sincerely, I'll be merciful and tell you... Edward is the owner of this Hilton Inn, or rather, the hotel, the son of the town's blacksmith Old York, the son of our Lord James, the advisor to young James, and the deputy leader of Poplar Town's guard... A skilled cave bear around the Whispering Forest, and also the most devious one... Hmm?"

A commotion outside suddenly stopped his chatter. Glancing out, he excitedly jumped onto a nearby table, looking out the window: "Oh, here he comes, the idiot!"

---

The slight tilt of the hill allowed the second-floor window of the Hilton Inn to easily see what was happening near the town gate—amidst the dust, a group was approaching the town.

They seemed to be the most common traders in the Western Fiefdom.

In the Western Fiefdom, trading was a very dangerous business; bandit groups, bandits, and poor road conditions... Even if goods could fetch several times the price in the inland areas, merchants often hesitated to make the journey—any slight mistake could result in losing everything, even their lives.

Therefore, most traders would form caravans and hire guards.

The group in front was no exception—over twenty wooden carts pulled by draft horses, loaded with goods covered by felt, and about thirty mounted guards on either side, fully armed and alert... The long journey had left them covered in dust, looking somewhat disheveled.

But was a trading caravan worth getting so excited about?

The halfling's intense focus on the window made the middle-aged knight frown. But before he could speak, a commotion erupted outside—the caravan suddenly sped up, rushing towards the town gate!

"Attack! They're bandits! They're bandits! Close the gate, quickly..."

The cries on the wooden walls were shrill, and amidst the chaos, the two gates creaked shut... but it was too late.

Dozens of people "appeared" from under the felt on the carts, and with those already on the sides, they quickly numbered about a hundred. They swiftly split into two groups, pushing the carts forward to jam the gate, while the others overturned the carts to form temporary cover, and with the twang of bowstrings, two guards on the wall fell with cries of pain!

In the blink of an eye, the gate was taken.

...

"Filthy bandits!"

The paladin leaped up, drawing his longsword! A white glow instantly illuminated the surroundings.

But as if in response, the sound of metal clashing echoed throughout the inn.

"Gentlemen, we are the Black Raven Mercenary Group, and we're here to do some business, so it's best if you cooperate... Stay put and don't move."

At the tables near the door, a dozen men stood up, brandishing their weapons in a threatening manner, and the one speaking was a particularly tall, bald man: "I know you're all top-notch, and we have no interest in fighting you, so just stay here and we won't cause you any trouble."

"It won't take long, just the time for a meal. After we're done, everyone here will receive five gold coins as compensation, so please stay calm... In short, just watch the show, it'll be over soon." He bellowed in a hoarse voice, smugly.

The response was a sharp, terrifying sound.

It was like a piece of cloth being torn, short and terrifying! As the bald man's body stiffened, his four or five companions let out muffled grunts!

Their bodies flew backward as if hit by a hammer, crashing into several tables!

Then came the heart-wrenching screams.

Amidst the screams, the bald man retreated, seemingly unharmed, but he was horrified to see his men piled up in strange shapes in the corner!

Dozens of arrows were deeply embedded in their bodies, and the four who were hit in the chest and throat fell silently, the arrows having pierced through them. The other three, who were hit in the chest and abdomen, were far less fortunate—blood splattered as they writhed and struggled, filling the air with a nauseating metallic smell.

The cause of all this was a dozen fully armed mercenaries, who had just lowered their heavy crossbows and drawn their swords, staring at the four remaining members of the so-called Black Raven Mercenary Group.

At this moment, a burst of laughter and chatter erupted from the mercenaries who had retreated behind them.

"I told you... I said it ten days ago, this Black Raven Group isn't anything special. Gather a few idiots, and they'll think about attacking Poplar Town... See? I was right, wasn't I?"

"Idiots! They didn't even think it through. If this town was so easy to take, why would anyone leave it until now? Only those with outdated information would try... They just didn't know..."

"Don't change the subject, you bastard! Last time we bet five gold coins that the Black Ravens would disappear within three months. I won, so don't try to back out. Pay up!"

"That was a long time ago... Besides, they just got here, and they still have over a hundred outside."

...

Is this a dream? A joke? Or...

The harsh reality left the remaining bandits stunned, staggering backward in confusion until a calm voice spoke nearby.

"Be honest, and surrender, gentlemen."

The speaker, the young waiter from the inn, stood before them, looking at them with pity: "Though the crime of banditry will land you in labor for a long time, it's better than losing your life."

What is this? A surrender plea? Are you an idiot? We have over a hundred brothers outside! If I can escape...

His thoughts finally broke free from the terrifying reality... The bald mercenary leaped up! In his eyes, this guy was a perfect hostage—though the city guards might not be restrained, using him as a shield might give him a chance, and once he escaped the gate, the streets would be his...

This thought was interrupted in an instant.

Literally 'interrupted'.

A painful numbness from his chin made everything go dark! The noise turned into a terrifying hum!

It was as if a swarm of flies had suddenly entered his ears, then turned into the sound of trumpets and cymbals. After a long time, he felt something else—his body hit something with a heavy thud, and a dizzying sensation washed over him...

"Chin... so painful..." he thought before losing consciousness.

But to the onlookers, it all happened very quickly... The bandit leader, charging like a wild boar, was knocked sideways with a dull thud, and the only action the thin young waiter took was to raise his fist.

"A monk?" The paladin, poised to act on the second floor, was surprised.

A monk, a warrior serving a mysterious cult, is rare but always a powerful fighter. Their most distinctive feature is that they do not rely on weapons or armor, but train themselves to become weapons—legend has it that their hands are as hard as iron, capable of deflecting weapons and even piercing armor, causing devastating damage.

"No, not exactly... Though it's similar, monks don't use weapons."

Along with the spellcaster, everyone's attention was now on the battlefield.

A small abyssal wasp, no bigger than a finger, can bring down a large bear with its sting, and the might of legion ants can make even a saber-toothed tiger retreat... True adventurers understand that strength cannot be judged by appearance. But at this moment, the young man's performance was still unexpected.

At this moment, the two men following the leader were also sent flying.

One was tripped while running, and the other was hit by a punch, though he was even more unfortunate—this punch, delivered with the momentum of a sweeping kick, was so powerful that the crisp sound of bone breaking was heard by most people, even in the noise.

It sounded like the effect of a blunt instrument.

Thus, two of the three men were knocked out cold, and the remaining one swayed as if he had drunk too much strong liquor, unable to stand up no matter how hard he struggled...

Their opponent began to claim his victory without hesitation... He stepped on the still-conscious man, casually pulling a necklace from his neck, then a money bag and some trinkets from his fingers.

As his movements slowed, the strange metal object on his hand became more noticeable.

It looked like several rings, thickened and fused together, covering his right hand's four fingers, with a dark, unremarkable appearance compared to the shiny weapons... But it was undoubtedly a weapon, a vicious one—the blunt spikes on the finger guards, stained with blood, made anyone who saw them shudder, imagining the pain of being hit and the skin and bones being crushed.

Thus, the small metal object took on a menacing aura, no less terrifying than any sword or blade.

In fact, the viciousness wasn't just in the weapon. The knights' keen eyes noticed another weapon on the young man's feet—a kick that sent a man sprawling wasn't due to strength, but because of the strange bulge on his half-worn boots. The clear, sharp sound when he kicked the still-conscious man's forehead confirmed that it contained at least a metal block.

Of course, to some, like the young paladin, there was even more to see... The faint magical glow around the young man's neck and wrists, not strong, just low-level spells like Haste and Bull's Strength—experienced people knew that the level of a spell didn't determine its power. For example, these two second or third-level spells were highly practical, and their combined effect could make a common farmer match a regular warrior.

"This bunch of idiots who don't know the meaning of death! I thought they wouldn't come... With just this many, they want to capture Poplar Town? Dream on!" The halfling spun around on his chair,