In front of their eyes, there was only a silent darkness.
Helplessly giving up, they could only wait until daylight to bring Abel’s family and express their gratitude in person. Get full chapters from noⅴelfire.net
In the silent room, the faint sound of fingers tapping on the knife handle echoed in the air with a frequency that mirrored a heartbeat.
Marcus sat with closed eyes on the chair, and even without any obvious movements, one could still feel the restlessness he couldn’t suppress.
The Half orc Gorg, on the other hand, paced back and forth in the room like a beast forcibly restrained by a leash, occasionally glancing at the captain, his heavy breathing particularly grating.
The Mountain Dwarf Stone Belly huddled in a corner, seemingly inventorying the loot he found in the room, but his sharp eyes were secretly observing the two people ahead.
The tall and slender Ranger stood by the window with arms crossed, saying nothing.
This eerie silence didn’t last long.
Gorg finally couldn’t stand it anymore.
Accompanied by a beast-like suppressed growl, he took two heavy steps forward, as if his steps could crack the floor.
A massive shadow instantly enveloped Marcus sitting on the wooden chair, but due to Marcus’s authority in the team, the Half orc dared not get too close, stopping three steps away from him.
The saliva on his fangs gleamed under the fireplace’s glow, emitting a strong stench onto the ferocious man’s face:
"Boss!" The Half orc’s voice boomed like muffled thunder in the room, "Why! Why not let Gorg touch that human girl!?"
The calloused hand clenched in the air as if crushing something, veins bulging on the back of the hand.
"Gorg’s fists are strong! They belong to Gorg! Whoever tries to take them, Gorg will smash them into pulp!"
He became more agitated as he spoke, saliva falling like rain, and he instinctively gripped the massive Iron embedded Wooden Stick, making a grating sound.
Seeing the big oaf taking the lead, the observing Dwarf also took the opportunity to approach.
Certainly, he didn’t dare to ask in a nearly questioning tone like Gorg, but rather rubbed his dirty hands together, deliberately showing a greasy and convoluted expression of doubt:
"We’ve been trekking in the woods for days, and finally hit a small village. If you don’t let the brothers have some fun, this big guy will suffocate, won’t he?"
He spoke while carefully watching Marcus’s expression.
He had already prepared to change the topic in case there was any sign of impatience from Marcus, ready to say "on the other hand."
He wasn’t genuinely concerned about the Half orc; he asked partly because, though small, Grey Valley Village’s collective wealth could potentially earn him a decent sum.
Meanwhile, even by Dwarven standards, the villagers weren’t particularly attractive, but given their adventurer ethics, they didn’t mind taking out their frustration on those civilians.
Faced with their doubts, Marcus still didn’t answer.
His eyes remained closed, fingers tapping on the knife handle pressed down hard, turning white from the pressure.
An overwhelmingly oppressive hostility spread from his body like a tangible cold wave, causing the Half orc closest to him to instinctively take two steps back.
How could he explain it?
Admitting that he was frightened by a young lad who appeared out of nowhere?
And just on the verge of this suffocating outburst.
A crystal-clear cold laugh, with an unmistakable hint of mockery, burst forth from the window’s side, instantly capturing the attention of the Dwarf and the Half orc.
The only archer in the Blood Blade Squad, named "Qianli," leaned against the wooden wall, her mouth curled in a mocking smirk.
Her gaze first fell on the Half orc’s absurdly green, simple face:
"Gorg, is there anything in your walnut-sized brain besides gluttony and mating?"
"Sometimes I really wonder if your so-called ’Half orc’ bloodline has some goblin mixed in. After all, both are green-skinned, so no one can tell."
"Smash into pulp with one stick? Try using that inbred brain of yours to imagine if our ’Alpha Wolf’ would suddenly show kindness to those mud-legged villagers outside for no reason?"
Gorg abruptly turned around, his yellowish-brown fangs tightly clenched, growling in the woman’s direction:
"Gro-lak (Beastman Language profanity), Qianli, are you courting death!"
Ignoring his threat, the Ranger’s contemptuous gaze turned towards the Dwarf Stone Belly, who appeared doubtful and hesitant:
"And you, little dwarf with a mind smaller than your body, do you think everyone is like you, only focused on trifles like moldy copper coins and women’s skirts?"
Qianli suddenly took a step forward, her pale, delicate face bearing a subtle mix of sarcasm and frustration.
"Why suddenly act so ’merciful’? Why not dare to bite into the meat delivered to the mouth?"
The mocking smile on her lips became more pronounced as she enunciated each word:
"Because our ’Alpha Wolf,’ our great captain..."
"Enough!" Marcus’s voice finally broke the silence, and those eyes, scarred by a grotesque marking, carried no anger, only icy killing intent, locked onto the tall, teasing figure by the window.