Chapter 264: Blood Blade, Cold Killing Intent

Adventurers chase danger, and are danger itself.

With short-term goals like "missions" and "bounties" as the purpose of action, they don't care whether you are a good person or a bad person, don't care whether this piece of farmland affected by the battle relates to whether a family can survive this winter, and don't care about the water source polluted by poison that might affect hundreds of lives downstream.

Compared to money, fame, and power, that pitiful sense of justice and conscience is like a promise in the mouth of a gambler, only hung on their lips shamelessly when they need to squeeze benefits from it.

To some extent, for the local ordinary people.

A team of dusty foreign adventurers is even more unsettling than those thieves and robbers who should be sent to the gallows.

At least the latter's behavioral patterns are relatively fixed, and if one is lucky, one can even reach a certain fragile, passive balance with them, losing some property without losing one's life.

And the former... no one knows what these powerful existences possessing superhuman abilities actually want to do.

Human nature is connected.

When individual greatness breaks through a critical point sufficient to achieve a qualitative change, desire will also skyrocket geometrically.

It's fine in large towns where fish and dragons are mixed and multiple forces are entangled, the power of order can be reflected in laws and fear, and people, adventurers and adventurers, divide levels by strength, maintaining the hidden rules that allow daily life to proceed.

But when they arrive at those remote and poor villages, with their own force as the source of power, driven by the desires in their hearts, the ugliness of human nature will also expand.

When you snap a person's neck as easily as crushing an ant.

And clearly know in your heart that even if you kill all the creatures in this small human settlement, there will be no aftermath.

Good or bad, life or death, heaven or hell.

It is just a choice made by the shallow bottom line in the heart of the one who controls power, in a single thought.

"Boom!"

The wooden door of the farmhouse exploded in a burst of sound.

The thick, calloused hand grabbed the door frame, and it didn't need much force, cracks naturally appeared in the fingertips filled with black mud in the fingernails, as if as long as one used a little force, the entire wall could be torn apart like sandpaper.

The culprit that caused the wooden door to explode, the huge wooden stick inlaid with iron, fell heavily to the ground.

Carrying the thick foul smell of not bathing for a long time, mixed with sweat and blood, a pale green head with bulging veins poked in from outside the door.

The two upward-protruding fangs were still stained with sticky saliva, and a pair of turbid eyes filled with beastly desire swept through this simple and ordinary room with a creepy and terrifying look.

Staying slightly on the middle-aged man who was trembling and couldn't even stand still, but still protected his wife behind him, the gaze was like looking at a piece of rotten meat on a butcher's stall;

When he caught a glimpse of the plump and round sexual characteristics of the woman behind the man, the beastly eyes filled with desire suddenly lit up, but cooled down slightly when he looked all the way up and saw the face that was no longer young, ravaged by the scorching sun and labor.

Just scraped two more times fiercely, and finally stayed on the steaming dishes that hadn't had time to be hidden in front of the two.

"Thump thump thump."

Heavy footsteps were like beating drums.

The not-so-high intelligence, and the excitement of discovering the village during the adventure and being about to vent his desire for destruction and abuse, made him not notice the third set of tableware on the dining table that hadn't had time to be hidden.

Not caring about the scalding heat of the soup, the Half-Orc went straight up, grabbed the iron pot in the center of the dining table, which looked like a bowl compared to his big hands, and poured the soup inside into his throat gulp by gulp.

And at the same time, the other three figures outside the door also walked in slowly amidst complaints.

"Gorge, told you many times, be careful, don't break the door."

"Making it like this, even the wind can't be blocked, how can people live?"

The one speaking was a mountain dwarf who was strong and slightly bloated, like a lump of meat.

Also not cleaned for a long time, the oiliness in the brown hair was visible to the naked eye, and even the dense beard on the chin was tangled together.

Regarding this, the Half-Orc Gorge just chewed the food in his mouth messily while spitting saliva everywhere, and replied vaguely:

"Village, wood house, many!"

"Gorge, break door, sleep self!"

It was just a casual complaint due to personality, and he didn't expect this hybrid idiot with low intelligence to listen to the words.

The short and sturdy mountain dwarf "Stone Belly," the first time he walked into the house, squeezed past the Half-Orc's thick legs like an oily and agile mouse, sliding into the inner room.

A pair of eyes that were completely different from the straightforward and frank stereotype of dwarves flickered with greedy light.

Fingers as short as thick radishes showed a degree of dexterity smoother than ordinary rogues, wardrobes, wooden boxes, dressing tables... any place that might hide wealth was searched carefully.

Even the dim old copper hairpin on the woman's hair tail was pulled off casually and stuffed into the waist bag.

"This, this... lords, please..."

The middle-aged man's voice trembled, kneeling in front of the few people in a posture of near pleading.

Before he could finish speaking, a pair of pale green hands like palm-leaf fans swung toward his face.

"Bang!"

The middle-aged man's still strong body flew backward from the broken door frame, his face covered in blood, lying on the muddy ground, life or death unknown.

"Yabo!"

The woman who had been protected behind her husband just now, seeing her husband suffer such heavy injuries, subconsciously let out a heart-piercing scream and cry.

But the powerful legs that had been walking between the ridges and wheat fields for many years had only taken one step, and the palm that had severely injured her husband and knocked him unconscious with one strike had already locked her neck from behind.

The foul smell that could make one faint sprayed onto her face from the nostrils that were flapping and expanding.

The ugly head with protruding fangs leaned over quietly, the turbid eyes filled with desire after filling his hunger, had already set his sights on this prey who was not very satisfactory, intending to treat her as an "appetizer" before slaughtering the entire village.

"Get out, don't block here and be an eyesore."

Before he could take further action, a leather boot stained with mud had already been printed fiercely on the Half-Orc's lower back.

The strong force contained in it made his two long legs, which were firmly rooted in the floor like meat pillars, stagger.

But strangely, the Half-Orc Gorge didn't show any dissatisfaction with this.

Just scratched his head stupidly, and carried the woman toward the door with big strides.

Marcus, captain of the Blood Blade squad.

A strong man who could stick the four big characters "fierce and evil" on his body just by his appearance.

The hideous scar went from the brow bone to the corner of the mouth, the short hair shaved to near baldness added a few points of ferocity to him, his gaze was like a fierce beast, wild and full of aggression.

Under the sturdy iron armor, two scimitars with beautiful curves, which were completely different from his own temperament, hung on the left and right.

Believing in "strength is truth," using his Lv3 professional level as the strongest in the team, he controlled the squad with fierce and cruel means, making even the Half-Orc hybrid whose desire had gone to his head not dare to disobey his orders. ===== CHAPTER 265 =====