Chapter 509 510-The Half-Orc Camp

Chapter 509 510-The Half-Orc Camp

Jelia gripped the knife handle, which was slightly large for her, but she held on tightly, using both hands when one wasn't enough, ensuring the short knife was firmly under her control.

"You're too tense like this; you'll only end up hurting yourself," Ali advised, gently squeezing Jelia's wrist to signal her to relax a bit.

"The wrist should be flexible, the fingers firm, and the arm in motion. The tip of the knife doesn't have to point straight forward; maintaining the wrist's flexibility is most crucial."

Such simple guidance couldn't show immediate effects, but Jelia took it to heart and practiced diligently.

After securing the sheath to Jelia's waist, Ali patted her on the head, "Let's continue moving forward."

Jelia nodded silently.

The duo, one tall and one small, proceeded onward, but their objective this time wasn't just gold coins or fame.

Some people deserved to die, and others did not.

...

"What do you think that young one will do?"

In the Oak Village, in the lobby of the Nameless Inn, Gick sat by a table, eating a lavish lunch with a composed and arrogant demeanor, starkly different from the panic Ali had seen earlier.

At this moment, Gick resembled any affluent merchant, exuding a powerful presence, though the details betrayed a caution and humility borne of dust.

"She won't find out anything. Those subhumans are too stupid, knowing nothing."

Gick set down his cutlery, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and placed it aside, lifting his gaze with a hint of arrogance lurking beneath his slightly drooping eyelids.

"What could an adventurer with a smattering of skills possibly discern?"n0ve(l)bi(n.)co/m

Not everything is transparent.

Nor does everything require revelation.

Yet, some people yearn to see everything clearly; why complicate matters unnecessarily?

You harbor your thoughts, and I harbor my desires.

Gick picked up his knife and fork again: "They all must die."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was enough for the person opposite to hear.

"As you wish," the person stood up, under the black cloak, the glint of blades flickered like a dragon, now hidden, now visible.

That person left, taking nothing with them, leaving nothing behind.

...

The tracks disappeared near the subhuman camp.

This camp was larger than Ali had anticipated, evolving beyond a mere campsite.

It appeared more like a village in its early stages.

Crude wooden spikes formed a wall, with a vine-made gate slightly ajar, figures moving within the walls, their voices carrying laughter and astonishment afar.

Ali touched the hilt of her side sword, gently pressed Jelia's head, and pulled her hood down.

Ali hesitated, then gestured towards the main road, "My name is Ali, an adventurer on a journey. I noticed an overturned carriage, bloodstains, and footprints on the road and thought someone might have been attacked, so I followed the tracks here."

The Werewolf's expression underwent a significant change, darkening, "It was Rudo! He went hunting with a few others and returned with two humans, covered in blood, refusing to speak. I thought they had rescued someone during their hunt; I didn't realize they had attacked humans!"

"You weren't aware?" Ali looked at the Werewolf, her expression somewhat perplexed.

"Though I wish I could give you a negative answer, unfortunately, I can only affirm."

The Werewolf sighed before continuing, "You might easily discern that I am a half-orc. While half-orcs possess the strength of orcs, our lifespans are not as long. Our strength comes at the cost of our lifespan."

"Though I appear to be only around forty, I no longer have the energy to manage this place. Besides, in the end, no one here truly has the right to govern. The one who did have that right is gone, and now this place is but a collection of individuals with no real founder."

"My name is Monka, I should have introduced myself at the beginning."

Looking from Ali to Jelia, Monka hesitated for a second before finally asking, "If I'm not mistaken, is this young girl also a half-

orc?"

"Yes, her name is Jelia. She's the adopted daughter of a friend of mine and is currently traveling with me," Ali said, patting Jelia on the head.

Jelia looked up at Monka and sweetly called out, "Mr. Monka"

Monka smiled, but a beast's face smiling could only add to the atmosphere of a horror film, far removed from anything gentle.

Monka seemed aware of the effect his appearance had, so he quickly suppressed his smile, "If you're worried about facing discrimination in human villages, feel free to rest here for a day before continuing on your journey. Though it's not as orderly as a human village, this place is somewhat a safe haven where outcasts can sleep peacefully."

Ali pondered, sensing something amiss.

She and Jelia had followed the trail of the subhuman bandits, only to discover what appeared to be a peaceful little village.

Indeed, the inhabitants were all subhumans, but given their apparent connections with Oak Village, it seemed unlikely they would engage in highway robbery, as Oak Village would not stand idly by in such a case.

Monka mentioned that it was the village hunters who had attacked outsiders on their own, but the premeditated nature of the attack was evident from the fire pit near the site of Gick's ambush.

Could hunters out on rotational duty have orchestrated such a plan?

And with an outsider, an unreliable human stranger at that?

Ali felt she couldn't do it, and she doubted anyone seasoned in the ways of the outside world could either.

What more was hidden beneath this?

"We'll take up the elder's offer then," Ali nodded, with Jelia chiming in with another "Thank you, grandfather."

Monka nodded, noticing Jelia didn't seem coerced or mistreated in any way.

Any human who could treat a half-orc kindly was undoubtedly worthy of friendship and respect.

After all, merely harboring a subhuman could be a capital offense in human society!

Though Ali accepted Monka's invitation, she didn't forget her mission.

However, Gick had not set a deadline for the quest; it was more a casual request than a strict assignment.

Gick seemed more concerned about the fate of the bandits than retrieving his companions.

Even his goods were a secondary concern, hardly the attitude of a peddler struggling to survive at the bottom rung of society, but rather more akin to a noble who regards human life as expendable.

Perhaps a wealthy merchant, even?