Chapter 67

"Me?"

Sodelor was somewhat taken aback. Not just him, but Ruge beside him also found such a question hard to adapt to—according to their view, as a leader, Rody should be decisive and unambiguous in such moments. In the kingdom's tradition, although there were roles like advisors and strategists, the commander always made decisions on his own after listening to their advice, and no one had ever heard of a commander actively "seeking" opinions.

Such behavior usually implied a lack of confidence, or even incompetence, in a commander. Clearly, in the eyes of the soldiers of this era, "arbitrary and autocratic" was a manifestation of "wisdom and bravery."

"I... I don't know. I—can't speak casually about such a question."

Although he was a noble's descendant, after so long in battle, Sodelor had long been accustomed to following Rody's lead. He shook his head, indicating he had no opinion.

Seeing Sodelor's reaction, Rody understood that such habits couldn't be corrected in a short time. He could only say in a low voice, "Then conduct more reconnaissance before the attack tomorrow. If there are no problems, set this place as the final attack point."

Such an order made Sodelor and Ruge more comfortable. After the three of them finalized the plan for the next day, Rody let them return to their tents to rest. He stopped the ring's illumination with a spell, lifted the tent flap, and confirmed that the night watch soldiers were not slacking off before he let out a deep breath, loosened his tight leather armor, and lay down on the uneven mat.

The noise of raindrops falling on the tent echoed in his ears, and the damp air made his skin uncomfortable. Such a life was undoubtedly arduous for a modern otaku. But clearly, Rody had quickly adapted to his role, gradually overcoming the obstacles in his original mindset and integrating into this world.

He reached out to touch the cloth bag beside him, which contained some herbs he had casually picked earlier—although the Rody from before his穿越 had not studied alchemy, he had learned the basics of "herb gathering." As a lone wanderer, he was very familiar with this essential survival skill in the wild. These casually picked "thorn leaf grass" were not high-level items; their effect was to increase the mount's movement speed by 5% for one hour.

It was then that he remembered that although the orc kingdom was barren, it had one extremely valuable specialty: herbs.

In the southern part of the Naxemia grasslands, in the Gondola mountain region with its mountains and rivers, those precious herbs were scarce resources that the Karren Kingdom could never possess. Further south was the Tassman Empire of the Undead—where the "soul extraction potion" originated. The herbs needed to make the antidote in Rody's memory were precisely located within the orc kingdom.

Should he find a time to go and check?

As soon as this thought appeared, he remembered that his "herb gathering" skills were not enough to successfully dig out such high-level herbs—"herb gathering" was not just about pulling up plants; the more precious the herb, the more time and effort it required to collect. If his level was not high enough, he might fail after days of effort, breaking a root and ruining everything.

Forget it, think about it later.

He summoned the character attribute panel and looked at it with satisfaction—within four days, his level had already risen to 7, and he had enough experience to reach level 8!

Tasks like "raiding orc villages" rewarded extremely high experience points due to the complete annihilation of the enemy and zero casualties on his side. This journey had been incredibly smooth for Rody.

Because it was so smooth, Rody couldn't help but think of other possibilities...

"Sarota... If there's a chance, should I eliminate him first?"

Thinking of the future brutality and cunning of this shaman chief, he couldn't help but consider whether he should kill him first. But seeing that he was still far from level 10, Rody sighed and gave up on the idea.

"If there's a chance to drag him to the swamp, maybe there's a possibility..."

In the sound of the rain, Rody fell into a deep sleep.

...

At the same time, just outside the "Gosak" village that Rody had pointed out on the map, a large group of wolf riders suddenly tore through the rain and charged into the village on the muddy road.

The muffled sound of the wolves' running was not as loud as that of war horses, but it had a unique intimidating presence. The orc soldiers who had been resting in their tents were startled and poked their heads out. Once they recognized the identity of the newcomers, they hurriedly ran out, bowing and greeting the suddenly appearing group.

The strong wolf riders did not bother to wear rain capes, so they were almost drenched in the heavy rain. However, this made their bodies appear even more like iron towers.

The six wolf riders leading the way came directly to the largest tent in the village, dismounted from their wolves, and loudly saluted the orcs bowing in the rain: "Salute to Lord Sarota!"

"Long live the Hammer of Rohar!"

The orcs' shouts were not very整齐, but they were full of momentum.

The largest and most comfortable tent was immediately requisitioned. The wolf riders who entered the village formed two layers of formations, and in the center, two figures dismounted from their wolves... From a distance, the soldiers waiting in the rain could hear the sound of a wooden staff and bone dice faintly in the rain.

Sarota, wearing a cloak and with a slender figure, walked in front, followed by Solon, who was respectful.

Two wolf riders lifted the tent flap, allowing the two to bend and enter the lit tent. Sarota then raised his staff, and Solon immediately raised his hands, bending over to take it, gently placing it on the weapon rack beside him. He then took off Sarota's cloak, bustling about like a servant. After finishing, he stood respectfully in front of Sarota again.

Sarota was now sitting at a simple wooden table, speaking in a low voice, "Sit and talk."

The atmosphere in the tent became silent.

"I think you are aware of what has happened these past few days. Talk to me about your thoughts, Solon."

Sarota casually handed Solon a piece of linen, which he took with both hands, gently wiping the rain from his body and forehead. After a moment of thought, he replied in a low voice, "Teacher, they are very strong. I think... we may have underestimated them before."

"En, continue."

Sitting casually in the tent, Sarota's fingertips touched the dim oil lamp, and under the mysterious power, the brightness of the lamp instantly doubled. However, it was clear that the shaman's expression was more haggard than usual.

"Chief Rohar believed these were actions of the Blood Spear tribe. I thought so too at first. But after you had me personally investigate the scene, I realized these could not have been done by the Blood Spears." Solon's words were very organized, quite different from the rough and hurried speech habits of other orcs, and even had a distinct "human" style— "The enemies rode war horses, not wolves. Although the heavy rain obscured most of the traces, there were many hoof prints left behind."

Sarota narrowed his eyes, his fingers beginning to rub a new bone dice, "And what else?"

"And..." Solon's gaze lifted slightly, hesitating, but finally said in a low voice, "They can do this, I fear—fear that Kosa and the others..."

"Failed."

Sarota nodded and fell silent.

From the confident dispatch of troops to the eager anticipation of a large-scale attack and plunder—this was not a rash plan thought up on a whim. Every step had been carefully considered and weighed. Yet, despite this, the orcs who were supposed to bring good news never returned...

Such a disparity felt like a huge stone suddenly pressing down on Sarota's heart, making the shaman, known for his wisdom, feel suffocated.

How did it go wrong?!

Countless self-questions, but no answers. It wasn't until the tribal villages suffered devastating blows one after another that he suddenly realized... the humans, whom he had seen as powerless, actually had a courage and spirit far more terrifying than the orcs!

Originally, he thought they were gentle sheep, but now they had suddenly grown claws and fangs, pouncing without warning... After such an event, it was as if he had been hit on the head with a solid iron rod, leaving him dazed for two days.

"... Let's not consider the reasons for their failure for now. Tell me what else you saw."

His fingertips continued to rub the dice, and Sarota's gaze remained lowered.

"Also... the fatal wounds." Solon took a deep breath, trying to recall the images in his mind, pointing to his neck, "Arrow wounds. In the wolf rider group that faced them head-on, more than seven were killed with a single arrow, and all the arrows belonged to the same person. Such powerful archery skills have never been heard of in the entire kingdom, as our wolf riders never practice archery on horseback."

"Clearly, the human Kosa spoke of... has arrived."

When Kosa mentioned these things, Solon and Sarota had only considered the human to be lucky, believing that the human had only caused Kosa's heavy losses through night attacks and ambushes. But now... when that figure loomed over the tribe with an overwhelming presence, the pressure was so intense that even Solon and Sarota felt suffocated.

Although Sarota was frustrated, it was not difficult for him to shake off such negative emotions. He took a deep breath, satisfied with Solon's deductions. When he raised his head, he had already shed the shadow in his heart, looking at Solon with approval and said, "Being able to say these things shows that you have learned how to think. However, in terms of details, I think you should see more."

"The number of enemies is less than thirty, and according to