Enjoy reading at m,v lem|p,yr
As the two brothers-in-law conversed with Jane, Logan couldn't help but smile, though inwardly, he was taken aback.
Gavas Greymane, 37 years old, a formidable wolf beastman, stood before him.
Strength: Tenth-order Warrior (Quasi-Legend).
This was the attribute panel of Gavas, his brother-in-law. Logan had only seen such power in his father-in-law before. His father-in-law's strength was already astonishing, but Gavas's prowess added another layer of surprise.
The thought struck him, two legends in one family! And he hadn't even met Ajiv's second and fifth brothers yet. If they were as strong as he suspected, this family was a powerhouse. And then there was Fisher, could he also be a legend?
"What are you thinking about?" Gavas's voice broke through his reverie. Logan quickly composed himself and smiled. "Oh, nothing much, brother!"
Gavas chuckled, clearly pleased with Logan. He admired his brother-in-law's impressive and gentle demeanor, not to mention his considerable strength, seventh level, no less.
"My father mentioned you're the chief of a small tribe?" Gavas inquired.
Jane immediately interjected, his tone indignant. "Brother, Logan's tribe is not small. They have 15,000 people now!"
Gavas was taken aback. "So many people? I was told it was a small tribe."
A tribe with over 15,000 members being called small? His father's standards were indeed high.
Fisher, standing nearby, looked equally surprised. "Wait, the Silver Mane Tribe has over 15,000 orcs?" He glanced at his sister and then at Logan. "Last I heard, there were less than 4,000 wolf beastman."
Jane, eager to set the record straight, explained, "Brother, you're out of the loop. The past three months have seen many disaster victims, and Logan's tribe has been absorbing them. Soon, the Silver Mane Tribe might boast 20,000 to 30,000 people."
Fisher was stunned. "That's a rapid expansion! But given the wasteland's situation and the increasing number of disaster victims, it makes sense. With enough food, they can attract many to join."
Logan and the others nodded, the mythical level indeed felt worlds away, and dwelling on it too much seemed futile.
To lighten the mood, Logan shifted the conversation to more cheerful topics with Jane and his siblings. Through these lighter exchanges, Logan gleaned that his brother-in-law Gavas had indeed brought back formidable strength.
He couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy.
A tenth-level warrior, two ninth-level warriors, three eighth-level warriors, more than fifty sixth- and seventh-level warriors, and nearly two thousand warriors below the sixth level, this was an awe-inspiring force.
For Logan, such power was something to aspire to. He imagined how mighty the Silver Mane Tribe would become with such strength. Yet, even in his envy, he couldn't help but admire the might of his father-in-law's mercenary group.
That night, as had become a tradition, Logan got thoroughly drunk with his brothers-in-law. By the time he awoke, it was already noon the next day, and he found himself lying in Jane's boudoir.
In the following days, life settled into a peaceful rhythm of drinking and camaraderie. However, the tranquility inside Canyon City contrasted sharply with the chaos outside.
The entire Tara Hills area was in turmoil, with astonishing news flooding into Canyon City. The Evil Wolf Thieves Group, led by the infamous Hungry Wolf Fike, had been completely annihilated in the Evil Wolf Canyon. Nearly 4,000 thieves were no more.
The Bucktooth Thieves Group met a similar fate, decimated by a mysterious force, with only one in ten surviving. Rumors circulated that a powerful group aimed to wipe out all the active thieves in Tara Hills.
At first, these rumors were met with skepticism. But as more notorious thief groups fell, and merchants passing through Canyon City confirmed the tales, the truth became undeniable. The influx of people into Canyon City surged, many seeking refuge from the growing dangers outside.
Inside the city, tensions ran high.
"What are we going to do now?" an agitated voice broke the uneasy silence in a lavishly decorated room on the second floor of a small Gothic building in the southern part of the city. Several menacing orcs faced a cold-eyed fox man.
"Damn it, Parks, is this what you meant by 'everything will be fine'?" one of the orcs roared, slamming his fist on the table.
"It's all your fault that we've crossed paths with the Greymane family's Storm Mercenaries. Look at the mess now! All the thief groups we backed have been crushed. They've wiped out our forces across the camps!"
"Do you realize the losses you've caused us?" another orc growled, his eyes blazing with fury.
Parks, the fox man, stood unflinching amidst their rage, his cold eyes revealing nothing. The room buzzed with tension as they awaited his response, the fate of their precarious alliance hanging in the balance.