Chapter 118: Pitiful Wretch

Xia Nan only felt irritated.

In his past life, he had thrown himself wholeheartedly into his work, working from before dawn to after dark, exhausted like a dog every day, yet never once entertaining the thought of giving up.

Because he knew this was his only path upward.

And the salary that landed in his bank account on time each month proved the worth of his effort.

But he had only wanted to do his own job well, to earnestly complete the tasks his superiors assigned him.

Step by step, steadily climbing upward.

Yet there were always a few people who, over some dispensable interests, or some utterly trivial conflict—

Without Xia Nan's knowledge, inexplicably dragged him into so-called "office politics," plunging him into the whirlpool of human obligations.

Going against his will, swept along into doing many strange things.

He had once wanted to resist.

But the persistence and stubbornness deep in his heart, compared to the bills piling up in his inbox at month's end, and the ever-increasing wrinkles on his parents' faces—

Were laughably insignificant.

Now, Xia Nan just wanted to kill a few Goblins.

Grind some Proficient levels, and earn some money on the side.

If anyone got in the way—

In this life, he didn't have so many ties holding him back.

"Shasha…"

Branches and leaves swayed gently.

His heart was just as cold as the breeze through the forest.

He slowly raised his head, his pitch-black eyes as still as a dark pool.

"Six people."

Xia Nan was assessing the situation on the field.

The other side's condition was two-thirds of the loot, and the equipment on his person.

Combined with the personality and style of "Huo Ya" he'd heard about earlier from Adeline's mouth—

He didn't believe the other side would keep their promise and let them go after getting their hands on the goods.

And without the armor and weapons he fought with, he would also lose the ability to resist.

Xia Nan could not entrust his life to such a scumbag.

Battle was inevitable.

Unconcealed, one after another.

His gaze swept carefully over the few people around him, gauging these Adventurers' strength, lingering an extra moment when it came to "Huo Ya" Bennett.

"No Professionals."

They already had the numbers advantage; if there were also Professionals present, the other side wouldn't be wasting words here with him and the others, they would have just acted.

"Two, one, three."

In order to ambush the "Green Blood" team in the nest, the six of them were spread out in scattered positions.

Right now, two were blocking him in front.

Berg was standing together with his old acquaintance "Ke Ge Er."

Abi had ducked behind Adeline, and the Adventurer originally responsible for his escape route had also followed back to Huo Ya's side—three people in total.

After a brief deliberation in his heart, he had already made his decision.

Since battle had become inevitable, naturally there was no need for hesitation.

"If they need killing, kill them. Clean and quick."

Pour out everything, and in the shortest time, deliver the heaviest blow to the other side.

Xia Nan suddenly raised his head, his gaze meeting Adeline's as she looked toward him.

He gave a slight nod.

He had, of course, sensed the dissuasion and hesitation in the other's eyes.

Didn't matter.

Because this also meant the other party knew that compromising with "Huo Ya" was a dead end.

Hoo—

He slowly exhaled a breath.

Xia Nan took steady, measured steps, walking toward "Huo Ya's" direction.

……

……

Memory is like an ocean.

The waves rise and fall, the glittering, sparkling surface dazzling to the eye;

Beneath the water's surface, the bright sunlight refracts and scatters, illuminating every bubble, every ripple left by the currents—equally clear.

But further down, all the way to the seabed—

There remains only a stretch of profound, lightless, deathly still darkness.

Very few people can clearly remember everything that once happened.

Especially in childhood, when the brain is not yet fully developed, memory is even more like broken glass, leaving only fragmented snatches of images.

Perhaps a dreamcatcher swaying gently over a crib, or a winding alley with no way out…

Bennett's earliest impression of this world was a grassland with a breeze blowing across it.

As a child, he would always bring along the family's black-and-white spotted shepherd dog, sit on the hillside, and gaze down at the flock of sheep crowded together below.

He had also wondered why the only ones tending the flock were himself and a single dog — these hundred-odd sheep, each bigger than him, had never once thought to flee.

As if some invisible boundary bound them, making them willing only to lower their heads and graze, never daring to look up at the vast sky and endless grasslands ahead.

"Perhaps they're afraid of the wolves outside?"

The young Bennett guessed as much.

He had, of course, seen those brutes — grey-black all over, with thick fur and sharp teeth.

Of course, most of the time, it was not he who spotted them first.

Even the sheep down on the hillside, who knew nothing but grazing, reacted faster than he did.

It was always on some dimly lit afternoon, or a fog-shrouded morning.

The shepherd dog, lounging lazily at his side, would suddenly prick up its long pointed ears, sit up alertly, then whoosh off in a flash.

The flock would burst into commotion, bleating and huddling together like balls of yarn.

Only then would a few dark specks faintly emerge from the distant depths of the grassland, drawing swiftly closer.

That shepherd dog, with the same black-and-white patches as a dairy cow, was utterly dependable — one might even call it valiant.

Even when facing three fierce wolves at once, it never retreated, growling low as it shielded its master's property and offspring behind it.

Sometimes it could even drive those wolves beyond the far slope, out of sight.

Only then would it come trotting back, tail wagging, tongue lolling, taking quick little steps.

Bennett had assumed this life would continue all the way until he grew up, married, had children, and then let his son take over his current place.

Until that day at high noon, when the sunlight was at its fiercest.

The same shepherd dog bolting from his side, the crowded flock of sheep, the wolves driven beyond the hill.

It never came back.

In its place came the trembling, shaking earth, the dense and chaotic thunder of great noise…

And from beyond the hill, soldiers in black armor, surging forth like a tide.

A wanderer's life was never easy.

Scrapping with wild dogs for food, fighting people bloody over a scrap of bread…

Bennett felt he was like those "pitiable" wolves of the grassland — no matter how fierce, how fearsome he appeared, he could never reach the flock guarded by the shepherd dog.

He had once wanted to become that heroic shepherd dog.

Of course, a more handsome one — at least no longer in that cow-like black-and-white pattern.

Otherwise he wouldn't have smashed a chisel into the skull of that thug who tried to assault a village girl.

But as the wandering life continued, in order to survive, he had no choice but to don the wolf's pelt once more.

Perhaps this was Bennett's true nature all along.

Or perhaps it was that the Adventurer's beast-like style simply suited him too well.

As his years grew, his body gradually strengthened.

As if he had truly merged with that wolf's pelt, he carved out a name for himself.

Gathering other starving wolves, using the dirtiest, most despised methods, killing the shepherd dog, filling his belly with tender, delicious mutton.

"Green Blood" Adeline had quite a reputation in town, and Bennett had a rough idea of her strength.

She knew two combat skills, was close to obtaining a Professional Level — about the same as him.

But her tastes were odd; the quests she took were almost all Goblin-related.

She couldn't earn much coin, poor as a church mouse.

He had once reached out to her through back channels, inviting this strong woman to join his little band.

But received no reply at all.

They weren't cut from the same cloth.

Under normal circumstances, he would never have considered her a target.

The reward wasn't worth the risk.

But a few days prior, the newly recruited "Wolf Cub" Ke Ge Er had let slip Adeline team's current situation to him.

Her once-decent teammates, unable to stomach her quirks, had already left.

Of the veterans in the whole little band, aside from Adeline herself, only Berg remained.

The two newly joined rookie Adventurers were the genuine article — greenhorns who had never even killed a person.

Could only hack at Goblins.

Compared to them, they had no fighting power to speak of.

Bennett felt the stirrings of an idea.

The wolves of the grassland never complain the prey is too scrawny.

A shepherd dog stripped of its guards — just be a little careful, don't let those sharp Yangjiao gore you.

Flip it over onto the ground from the side, crush its throat, tear open its belly.

And there you have another delicious supper.

But then again, she was an Adventurer who'd made a name for herself in Hegu.

Adeline was cleverer than he'd imagined.

She had actually spotted his setup, throwing the plan into disarray; the several traps he'd prepared in advance went unused.

Forcing him to fall back on his contingency plan.

First, use words to lure them into handing over their armor and weapons, drastically cutting their fighting power.

And then… naturally, he could not let them go, as he had promised.

An Adventurer stripped of their gear is no different from a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.

When the time comes, the Wolf Pack will swarm in, and even Adeline, the only one with any fighting power left, won't be able to hold out for long.

Of course, that was only the best-case scenario.

In truth, Bennett didn't hold out much hope.

If Adeline's personality was as the Adventurers said, she would definitely refuse.

It wouldn't be a big deal either way.

Six against four.

His own side was full of veteran "evil wolves" with plenty of Hunting experience, while on theirs, only Adeline and Berg had any real combat ability.

At worst it would just take a bit more effort—still plenty of meat to eat.

His vicious gaze swept past Adeline, toward the one behind her—Abi, clutching a wooden shield.

His eyes paused only briefly.

The pale-faced rookie flinched suddenly, as if startled by something.

He nearly lost his grip on the wooden shield and dropped it to the ground.

Just like those cowardly lambs that huddle at the very center of the flock, burying their heads beneath the grown-ups, as if that could shield them from the dangers outside.

"Boss, this kid's probably going to piss himself from you scaring him."

From beside him came a teammate's teasing laughter.

Bennett's expression didn't change.

Amid the evil wolves' snarls, a weak, sniveling lamb cub should be exactly like that.

His gaze moved further back.

Toward the black-haired youth walking straight toward them.

His brow furrowed suddenly.

The other party didn't dodge his gaze.

Just looked at him calmly, meeting his eyes.

Bennett couldn't find in them any of the fear or forced composure that should have been there.

For some reason, in that instant—

Those utterly placid eyes, that deep, abyssal black—

suddenly reminded him of the black-armored army that had destroyed his former life.

Formless flame surged up from within his heart, and under its scorching, his thoughts and intentions twisted into something grotesque.

A face too young, among bottom-tier Adventurers, meant shallow experience and weak combat ability.

The fine armor, clearly worth a pretty penny, bore only a few faint scratches on its surface—obviously it had never been through any truly fierce fighting.

Two blades, one long and one short—and one of them was even a Wooden Sword.

Flashy and useless.

Probably some hero's tale he'd heard from some hack Bard, and thought it looked cool.

In actual combat, worth absolutely nothing.

Must be some "young master" from the city.

At the thought, memories from his own days of wandering seemed to surface.

Bennett's mood instantly darkened several shades further.

The corners of his mouth, which had been pulled wide, drooped soundlessly; his uneven yellow teeth clicked together.

His smile grew even more savage.

He decided that when the time came to act, he wouldn't rush to gut the kid.

After all, the Wolf Pack on the prairie doesn't always wait for its prey to stop breathing before it starts feeding.

He'd torment him, pry the information about his family out of the boy's mouth.

Then devour him clean.

And send his family along too—

"Awooo—"

A piercing howl that set the eardrums vibrating cut through the air, suddenly ringing out.

It broke off Bennett's train of thought.

It was a wailing shriek produced by driving the body with exquisite technique—channeling all one's strength in an instant, compressing the air to its limit.

Without blinking, without the slightest distraction—

In his line of sight, the youth who had been slowly walking toward him suddenly vanished on the spot.

All that remained in the air were drifting grass seeds and shredded leaves.

An alarm bell warning of danger rang sharply in his chest; the scent of death lingered at the tip of his nose.

He had already realized something was wrong.

Bennett's face still wore the savage smile he hadn't had time to retract; the will to survive flashed through his brain, stimulating the cerebral cortex, conducted along the neurons.

Downward in a rush, attempting to drive him to raise his arm and bring his Iron Sword up in front of him.

But then, at some moment, it came to an abrupt halt.

A streak of iron-grey, razor-sharp arc-light had, at some unknown point, already buried itself into his neck.

Will and body, like bone and flesh torn apart, were severed in the physical sense.

The world began to spin; the sky seemed to rain blood.

Bennett saw his own body—saw the empty space where his shoulder had been.

and a small section of an iron-grey sword tip poking out from a blind spot in his field of vision.

Vertigo.

He instinctively wanted to twist his neck, looking inward along the blade.

Then, in a daze, he realized that he seemed to have already lost the ability to control his body.

Darkness swallowed the world before his eyes like a tide.

Like a piercing wolf howl carrying the cold wind, echoing endlessly inside his skull.

Thick roots grew upside down from the earthen sky; the dense, wind-swayed canopy was like the grassland of his childhood, rippling in a clear breeze.

And only at this moment did Bennett finally let go of the stubbornness buried deep in his heart, never daring to show it to the outside world.

No more pretending, facing himself honestly.

Never a vicious wild wolf on the grassland, nor a cowardly but united sheep, let alone the brave, fearless sheepdog of his imagination.

He was just a pitiful wretch whose life had been destroyed by war,

not worth pitying.

(End of this chapter)