"Good brother, we leave the mission of promoting art to you!"
"Heheh, didn't you ask Ah Guang once if you could create a female character? Here's your chance to crossdress!"
"Try black stockings too!"
"Don't forget Tengteng's artworks!"
"Gun aaaaa! Fuck offfff!"
A desperate, ear-splitting scream echoed across the airport runway. Amidst the crowd's laughter and farewells, the hatch of the "Orca" transport plane slowly slid shut.
Its cylindrical engines blasted a deep-blue arc of light downward, lifting the massive craft off the tarmac and propelling it smoothly forward.
Carrying the goodwill and blessings of the residents of southern River Valley Province, that streak of ghostly blue light vanished into the distant horizon.
It would bring back far more for this land.
Among the crowd outside the airfield, Dolly pressed her hands together before her chest, murmuring a silent prayer.
Once the aircraft had disappeared from sight, she quietly turned and slipped away from the throng.
Lao Bai, Ye Shi, and Kuang Feng stood at the outer edge of the crowd—one set of power armor and two exoskeletons, accompanied by an "Alpha Dog." It was a rather lavish lineup.
Walking up to Dolly, Lao Bai tapped his helmet twice, releasing his faceplate.
"We'll escort you to Boulder City... but are you sure you don't want to wait here for him to return?"
"I need to get back to work," Dolly said a bit timidly, looking up at the towering power armor before her and lowering her voice. "Um... I can't afford to pay you that much."
Lao Bai smiled. "That guy already paid us, so don't you worry about it. We'll get you there safe and sound."
Dolly blinked in surprise.
"How much did he give you?"
"Well, it has to be worth at least three meals," Lao Bai grinned. "Talking money between brothers just hurts feelings. Oh, and don't even think about paying in his place—we don't accept anyone else picking up the tab."
Hearing Lao Bai put it that way, Dolly still felt a little embarrassed, but she accepted their goodwill and gave a gentle nod.
Before leaving, Fang Chang had told her that these three were his best brothers.
Whenever he wasn't around, she could reach out to them if she ran into any trouble.
Meanwhile, on the runway.
Staring in the direction where the plane had vanished, Yi Chuan took a long while to come back to his senses. He turned to Chu Guang beside him and asked, "Just now... what was he shouting?"
It sounded like he heard a "Gun a"?
What did "Gun a" mean?
"Uh... basically it means goodbye," Chu Guang cleared his throat, a subtle expression on his face. "In Shelter 404, we only use that phrase with our best friends."
An enlightened look dawned on Yi Chuan's face.
"I see... 'Gun a' means goodbye. Your language is truly peculiar."
To shout it at the top of one's lungs had to be an expression of intense emotion—a reluctant longing for a dear friend.
He definitely needed to take note of that.
"Two hundred years have passed, after all... It's only natural for accents to shift a bit. Every family has its own quirks. Anyway, let's not dwell on this." Afraid the man might take it too seriously, Chu Guang hastily changed the subject.
Repeating that strange pronunciation under his breath, Yi Chuan nodded. Beyond committing the sound to memory, he didn't dwell on it too much.
The world was vast.
There were plenty of shelters out there.
Compared to those bizarre projects and protocols, Shelter 404 actually seemed rather normal in his eyes...
...
In distant Sunset Province, in a small town on the northeastern frontier, a row of shacks stood beside a mound of loess that marked a coal mine.
One side housed slaves; the other housed temporary laborers.
"Wake up! Get your ass up, time for work! Dammit, sleeping like a pig—do you want your pay or not?"
A calloused hand slapped repeatedly against his face.
Having just logged into the game, Battlefield Guy opened his eyes.
Vicious sunlight pierced through the gaps in the wooden planks and fell upon his face. Yet what greeted his eyes was not a lovely, charming visage, but an old, peeling, sunburned face that was black with a hint of red.
The man was none other than the coal mine overseer.
That creased, weathered skin instantly reminded Battlefield Guy of a gnawer, and a murderous glint unconsciously flared in his eyes.
Unnerved by the miner's glare, the overseer instinctively took a step back. But quickly remembering that he was the one in charge, he glared back viciously.
"What are you looking at? Are you gonna fucking work or not?"
A guard standing at the doorway wore a revolver at his hip, his eyes drifting lazily yet intentionally toward them. The threat was as glaring as the silver gleam off the weapon's trigger.
Battlefield Guy, however, didn't pay him the slightest heed.
As an Agility-type Awakened in the third stage of his genetic sequence, even lying flat on his back, he had at least three ways to grind these two fools into the dirt like dead dogs.
And yet...
He couldn't do that.
"...I'll work."
Shaking his groggy head, Battlefield Guy crawled out of his sleeping bag, grabbed the pickaxe leaning against the shack wall, and trudged toward the nearby hill.
Watching the man's retreating back, the overseer let out a sigh of relief. He wiped his brow with his sleeve, only then realizing his palm was slick with cold sweat.
There were two kinds of laborers at the mine.
One kind was the mine owner's slaves, and the other was day laborers.
The former were easy to manage. Under the laws of the Golden Lizard Kingdom, slave owners had the right to dispose of their slaves however they pleased, so long as they could provide a notarized contract as proof.
The latter, however, were far more complicated.
Some were hiding out to escape blood feuds, while others were traveling merchants or mercenaries who had encountered marauders, lost all their luggage, and narrowly escaped with their lives.
Just like that fellow just now.
That gaze of his...
It was as if he had crawled straight out of a pile of corpses...
At this moment, as he walked up toward the mine, Battlefield Guy had no idea what the overseer—who looked as hideous as a gnawer—thought of him. In his head, he was silently calculating how many gold lizard coins he would need to reach Oasis No. 9.
This place was One-Third Town. The origin of the name was unknown; all he knew was that it lay on the northeastern edge of Sunset Province, at the southernmost tip of Oasis No. 8, and along with the oasis itself, belonged to the territory of the Golden Lizard Kingdom.
It was rich in coal, iron, and the most common commodity across the wasteland: slaves.
The locals didn't capture slaves themselves, but travelers who lost their fortunes for various reasons and couldn't scrape together enough travel fare to leave the desert often had no choice but to sell themselves to nearby mine owners or wealthy locals.
This place was somewhat like the predecessor of the Red River Alliance.
Except because its output wasn't high, it had never developed a futures market.
Furthermore, its level of development was extremely low. Unlike the southern part of River Valley Province, there was no nutrient paste to buy. The town's sole generator sat right at the mine, and a time-clock robot converted from an automated vending machine was probably the peak of high technology here.
The cheapest food was dry, hard black bread, which cost about one gold coin per jin. Then came milk, which was so cheap the locals drank it like water.
Battlefield Guy calculated that walking to Oasis No. 9 would require at least two weeks' worth of food and water—and for two people, at that.
Even if they ate nothing but bread every meal, factoring in the cost of fresh water, he would need to prepare at least thirty-two gold lizard coins.
A full day of work paid four gold lizard coins. He was an Awakened; although he was an Agility-type, his Strength attribute wasn't low either. If he pushed himself, hitting six gold coins shouldn't be a problem.
"...Calculating it like that, it'll take at least five days."
"Wait, no, I almost forgot to factor in daily living expenses... In reality, I can only save about two to three gold lizard coins a day."
Battlefield Guy counted on his fingers, suddenly realizing to his dismay that even if he mined with all his might, it would take nearly two weeks to save up enough travel fare.
"Garbage game! How the hell am I supposed to play this?!"
Cursing under his breath, he swung his pickaxe fiercely, slamming it hard against the rock face.
*Damn it!*
The flying sparks startled the nearby miners, who scrambled out of the way in fright.
*Holy crap.*
*Is this bastard trying to bring down the whole tunnel?!*
*Better stay clear of him!*
Perhaps his exaggerated motions were too terrifying, or perhaps his facial expression was too alarming, but before long, Battlefield Guy was the only one left in that entire mining section.
Channeling his grief and indignation into sheer power, Battlefield Guy transformed into a veritable pangolin. Clang after clang rang out ceaselessly, and before long, the dislodged ore had filled an entire mine cart.
He rolled up his sleeves and worked the entire day.
Finally dragging himself out of the tunnel completely exhausted, Battlefield Guy collected his day's wages from that annoying overseer at the entrance.
The overseer had intended to skim a little cut for himself, but thoroughly cowed by that ferocious glare, he didn't dare reach out his hand.
Weighing the measly six gold coins in his palm, Battlefield Guy couldn't help sighing with emotion.
Compared to these bloodsucking vampires, their Administrator was practically a saint—so conscientious, so gentle!
The Alliance's minimum hourly wage was one silver coin.
Working twelve hours a day earned at least twelve silver coins. And that was just minimum wage; ever since the Alliance was established, almost no one lived on minimum wage anymore.
Thanks to rapid economic growth, coupled with the Alliance's unsparing investment in industry, domestic incentives for production, and bond issuances to attract foreign investment, every factory in the Alliance's industrial zone was hiring.
As long as one was literate, finding a job paying 500 to 600 silver coins a month was a breeze. Those who couldn't read could enroll in night school, taking on odd jobs while learning cultural knowledge.
And for skilled technicians with a trade, wages started in the four digits with no ceiling.
The only thing he couldn't figure out was: since *Wasteland OL* always touted its realism, where was all this money coming from?
He had never seen the Administrator fleece anyone or milk the players. All he saw was the Alliance Bank throwing money around everywhere, and quest rewards were never stingy.
With such an absurd degree of quantitative easing, just how on earth was inflation being suppressed?
Unable to make heads or tails of it, Battlefield Guy decided to put the complicated question out of his mind for now.
He couldn't figure it out anyway; he might as well just do his job as a proper pangolin.
Pocketing today's earnings, Battlefield Guy didn't return to the shack, heading instead toward the nearby town.
There was still a deadweight waiting for him to feed there.
He swore.
The moment the task given by the Administrator was complete, he was definitely going to chop that bastard to pieces!
Taking a deep breath, Battlefield Guy suppressed his negative emotions and pushed open the tavern door.
Stepping into the tavern lobby, before he even reached the stairs, he spotted Korwei slumped drunkenly over the counter, drool pooling across the tabletop, a half-empty mug of beer sitting beside him.
Noticing the shadow falling across the table, Korwei opened his half-slit eyes and saw Battlefield Guy standing nearby.
Grinning, he waved a hairy arm.
"Ah... Pangolin, you're back... *hic*—"
"The beer here really packs a punch... Come, have a drink with me. Oh right, got any cash on you? Cover my tab for the drinks, will ya? I'll pay you back once we're home."
Battlefield Guy took another deep breath.
Not good.
His blood pressure was fucking skyrocketing!
Suppressing the urge to commit murder, he looked at the innkeeper behind the counter and asked through gritted teeth, "How much?"
"F-Five gold lizard coins."
Under that murderous glare, the innkeeper's voice stammered, his hand already inching toward the gun hidden beneath the counter.
*Five?!*
Hearing that number, Battlefield Guy nearly spat blood. His eyes turned crimson in an instant, and he lunged forward, grabbing Korwei by the collar.
To hell with rank and status.
He hauled the dead-drunk Korwei right up, yanking him right in front of his face, his nose practically jabbing into the man's eyes.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?! Five gold lizards?! Do you have any idea how much I broke my back to earn today?!"
"Six! Six coins!"
"I worked an entire fucking day for those bloodsucking bastards who eat people without spitting out the bones, without even eating a single bite of food, and you spent the whole damn day drinking beer here!"
"Do you still want to get back to the Legion or not?! Are you still a fucking man?!"
Battlefield Guy roared in fury, cursing and screaming at the top of his lungs, to the point where his usually halting Human Alliance language became completely fluent out of sheer rage.
The entire tavern fell dead silent. Everyone stared dumbfounded in their direction... including the innkeeper behind the counter.
*The Legion?*
*These two... are from the Legion?*
His shoulders heaved violently like waves crashing against the shore, his eyes wide as copper bells.
If looks could kill, the guy clutched in his grip would have died a thousand times over; he had never shown mercy when killing Legion soldiers.
*Fuck!*
*Son of a bitch, I can't take this anymore!*
At this moment, he felt as aggrieved as a young wife working two jobs to support the household, while her deadbeat husband drank, gambled, and whored around all day without lifting a finger.
By the way, the Legion was red-named, right?
They *were* red-named!
Red names could be killed, couldn't they?!
Safe zone or not, it didn't matter anymore. He had made up his mind: kill this bastard, then commit suicide. Three days in cooldown was only three days—it was a hell of a lot better than wasting three months here!
*If you damn NPCs refuse to act like human beings—*
*Don't blame yours truly for not acting like one either!*
"What the hell are you—"
Grabbed by the collar, Korwei was momentarily stunned. He was about to snap in anger at Pangolin for grabbing his collar when he suddenly noticed that look of bitter disappointment, that burning exasperation at seeing him fail to live up to what he should be. The words died on his tongue.
A surge of deep shame rolled through his chest.
While his subordinate was rolling up his sleeves in a dirty coal mine to scrape together travel expenses to return to the Legion, he had actually taken that hard-earned sweat and blood to get drunk, using alcohol to numb himself, fleeing from failure, fleeing from reality.
As a noble Wilun, his loyalty to the Legion and to His Excellency the Marshal was actually outmatched by a wasteland barbarian born of the wilds...
Shame turned into bitter remorse. Korwei closed his eyes in agony, letting out a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry..."
"..."
Battlefield Guy's chest heaved violently, his teeth grinding in hatred.
He had just been pondering what manner of death to grant this bastard, but never expected to hear the words "I'm sorry" leave his mouth.
"...I know. This cowardly, evasive look of mine is pathetic. My weakness and incompetence have betrayed your loyalty. I am not a worthy leader."
Looking at the furious Pangolin, Korwei's Adam's apple bobbed, the remorse in his eyes growing even deeper.
Suddenly, as if having made up his mind, he spoke.
"Pangolin."
"What?" Battlefield Guy snapped viciously.
Hearing the name Pangolin right now made his blood boil; he was angry enough to chop himself in half.
Korwei looked at him.
"Kill me."
Battlefield Guy froze, utterly thrown off by his expression and words.
Seeing that he didn't speak, Korwei continued in a calm tone, "Take my head back to River Valley Province. The survivor settlements there... should give you a sum of money. I am ashamed of my despondence and despair. I am unworthy of your loyalty. This is the last payment I can offer you. I hope it can make up for your disappointment."
Looking into those earnest eyes, Battlefield Guy fell silent. The hand clutching the collar loosened slightly, then tightened again.
*This bastard...*
"...I walked for a fucking week... no, two weeks, just for a centurion's head?!"
*Who the fuck wants your head?!*
*Do you really think the Alliance is a bunch of scalp-taking savages?!*
Staring fiercely at the man, he squeezed words out from between his teeth.
"...If there is even a shred of pride and self-respect left in your heart, slap yourself twice and stand up from here! You lost, but you're still alive! There are still things you can do! Even if you die, you die on the road back!"
Battlefield Guy let go and shoved him back onto the barstool.
Killing a man was easy.
But a dead man was worthless.
Battlefield Guy admitted he had acted impulsively just now, feeling ready to throw in the towel out of frustration.
It was just a game.
Did he really need to take this crap?
Yet thinking it over after cooling down, he ultimately let go of his inner malice.
Especially when he recalled that night in the forest, when several young girls had fought valiantly against the Legion pursuers, his face flushed with shame.
People who had joined the game later than him, people weaker than him, could still persevere with optimism and fight bravely to the very end...
What right did he have to give up so easily?
He had done great along the way. Not only had he successfully won the trust of a Legion officer, but Korwei had even promised to introduce him to General Griffin. He was only a step away from success...
He was still far from being at his wit's end.
"...Seems I'm still not strong enough," Battlefield Guy muttered inwardly, glancing at Korwei, who was lost in thought.
For different reasons, both of them seemed to have fallen into deep reflection, and both had coincidentally calmed down.
Just then, however, Battlefield Guy suddenly realized that everyone in the tavern was staring at them.
Also noticing the gazes from all around, Korwei's expression turned awkward, and he whispered, "...Did you mention the Legion just now?"
Denying it now would be futile; everyone around had clearly heard it.
Battlefield Guy's Adam's apple bobbed, and he gave a slight nod.
"Yeah..."
*Dammit, that was careless.*
There were over twenty people in the hall, every one of them armed with guns. Though they had had a drink or two, none of them looked like pushovers.
With his skills, he could probably take down half of them at most before being turned into a sieve.
And that was an optimistic estimate.
Yet to his surprise, nobody made a move.
Could they be waiting for an opening?
Just as he was pondering this, a man dressed like a traveling merchant at a round table near the door exchanged a few words with two mercenaries beside him, then rose and walked over toward them.
Battlefield Guy's nerves strung tight. He stared unblinkingly at the man, his right hand already brushing the steak knife on the counter.
Not just to guard against this newcomer.
He also had to watch the innkeeper behind the counter.
The movements beneath the counter were obvious. Between the click of a safety and the cocking of a hammer, the bearded middle-aged man had already gripped the gun hidden there.
And it was a revolver.
Battlefield Guy calmly surveyed the room, calculating in his mind.
If the owner drew his gun, he would slit the man's throat with the steak knife in an instant, shove Korwei behind the counter, and use it as cover to engage the rest of the tavern.
This was the border of the Golden Lizard Kingdom. Camels were tied up in the tavern's backyard; stealing supplies from other caravans and fleeing into the desert shouldn't be difficult...
"Easy there... We mean no harm."
The merchant approaching them wore a friendly smile, raising his hands to show he held no weapons.
"My name is Adan, from the Bugra Free State... Are you two with the Legion?"
Battlefield Guy blinked.
"Yes."
The merchant named Adan continued with great interest, "How curious... This is Oasis No. 8. Have your forces already pushed this far?"
Battlefield Guy exchanged a glance with Korwei.
The latter cleared his throat and stood up from the bar, reclaiming the demeanor and presence of an officer as he took over the conversation.
"We ran into some trouble and got separated from the main force."
Hearing this, the patrons in the hall relaxed, looking away. Still, the clatter of clinking glasses now carried murmurs regarding the frontline fighting.
The merchant named Adan nodded in understanding, his gaze sizing up the man before him as if discerning his identity.
Stroking his chin, he said thoughtfully, "I see... In other words, the fighting over at Oasis No. 9 isn't over yet?"
Korwei's expression turned somewhat awkward.
Originally, the *Heart of Steel* had planned to return to Oasis No. 9 to link up with frontline forces. Yet no one expected them to encounter a band of suicidal natives who managed to shoot down an unsinkable airship.
Deprived of the *Heart of Steel*'s fire support and high-altitude reconnaissance, the joint forces of the Falcon Kingdom and the Legion had clearly fallen short of expectations at Oasis No. 9.
Had they successfully linked up, Oasis No. 9 would likely have fallen long ago.
Seeming to misread the expression on Korwei's face, Adan smiled. "Don't worry, we mean no harm. In fact... we happen to have a shipment of supplies bound for Oasis No. 9. If you don't mind, we could travel together."
A stranded officer.
That identity alone was packed with possibilities.
If he could return this unlucky fellow to the Legion, the Legion was never stingy with rewards.
What's more, for a merchant doing business with the Legion like him, earning such a favor was purely beneficial. Many people in the Bugra Free State had made a fortune off those big-nosed Wiluns.
Korwei's eyes lit up, but caution quickly took hold, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"How do I know you won't sell me out to the Lion Kingdom?"
Though drunk, his intellect remained intact.
Adan made a helpless gesture. Under their watchful gazes, he reached into his coat and produced an order manifest.
"You should recognize this order, shouldn't you?"
Korwei squinted at the writing on the manifest, surprise instantly flashing across his eyes.
Noticing the shift in his expression, Battlefield Guy—who lacked a translation tool and couldn't read the script—asked in a low voice, "What does it say?"
"Eight thousand rifles, 1.2 million rounds of ammunition... It's a procurement contract stamped with the Legion's seal and signed by the logistics officer. I recognize his handwriting."
Korwei looked at the merchant named Adan, the caution in his eyes replaced by excitement.
"You're heading to Oasis No. 9?"
"Of course, and it seems you are as well," Adan smiled as he tucked the manifest back into his coat, then extended his right hand toward Korwei. "In that case, if you don't mind, we can head out together."
Korwei shook his hand, his eyes unconsciously darting around before asking in a hushed tone, "Are these people going to be an issue?"
Reading the concern in his eyes, Adan chuckled. "What issue could there be? In accordance with the teachings of the Spirit of the Sand Sea and ancient covenants, the desert kings all sent declarations of war to the Falcon Kingdom, but the Lion Kingdom is the only one that actually mobilized troops."
"The Camel Hump Kingdom is at the southernmost end of the desert—too far away, and they have no desire to fight. As for the royal family of the Golden Lizard, they lost their piety long ago... It might not be fitting for me to say this here, but rather than ethereal beings, they prefer the nerds who bring them curious gadgets. You know who I'm talking about."
Korwei frowned. "The Academy?"
"Exactly."
Pausing, Adan smiled and added, "In short, it's fairly safe here. The locals might not care for your nose, but they don't want trouble. Our trade route has been running for a while now. The kingdom's guards know where these munitions are headed, but nobody inspects them closely. Everyone turns a blind eye."
Hearing that, Korwei breathed a sigh of relief, his face slackening in utter relief.
"Seems I worried for nothing... Thank you for the intelligence."
These past two days, he hadn't even dared show his nose while drinking, keeping it concealed behind a scarf.
It had been agonizing!
"You're welcome. You're our valued clients," Adan nodded slightly, speaking in a pleasant tone. "Quite a few caravans here are heading from the Bugra Free State to Oasis No. 9... General Griffin is very generous. Thanks to His Excellency, we've made quite a profit."
Watching Korwei converse pleasantly with Adan, Battlefield Guy was quietly astonished.
*Holy crap.*
*Isn't the Bugra Free State a vassal of the Great Rift Valley?!*
*The merchants there are doing business with the Legion?!*
What was even more absurd was that the war situation in Sunset Province differed from the official intel posted on the website.
There was no allied coalition of kingdoms at all; from beginning to end, the Lion Kingdom had been holding out entirely on its own! The other kings had declared war on paper while secretly pursuing appeasement.
The Golden Lizard Kingdom in the north was the most outrageous of all.
Those clever bastards turned a blind eye to enemy supply lines traversing their territory, tacitly allowing equipment from the Bugra Free State to be funneled from northern River Valley Province straight to the frontlines of Oasis No. 9.
Did they think having the Academy's backing meant they wouldn't get beaten up?
That was slick as hell!
"Sir... I'm exhausted. I'd like to go up to the room and lie down for a bit," Battlefield Guy said in a low voice, putting on a weary expression.
He wasn't tired at all.
The urgent priority was logging off immediately to share this bombshell news on the official forum.
Ever since the last update, the official website forum had added a quest board. Reporting major intel like this didn't just earn silver coins—it yielded massive contribution points!
Hearing Pangolin's voice, Korwei turned back.
Showing not the slightest resentment over his subordinate's earlier insolence, he gave a gentle nod and said in a warm tone, "Go ahead... Oh, and you don't need to work tomorrow. I cannot have my loyal subordinate doing such menial labor."
That gentle gaze gave Battlefield Guy a whole layer of goosebumps.
Failing to notice the peculiar look on his subordinate's face, completely trusting his loyalty, Korwei turned back to Adan.
"Could you lend me some money? On my honor, I will repay you double once we reach the Legion's outpost."
"You're far too polite. Merely worldly possessions; consider it a token of friendship." Saying so, Adan smiled and placed a pouch of gold coins on the counter.
Inside were a full two hundred dinars.
Being able to recognize the signature on that procurement order was enough reason alone to invest in this man.
Grabbing a handful of gold coins from the pouch, Korwei slapped them onto the counter and looked at the innkeeper behind it.
"Is this enough?"
Staring at the gold coins on the counter, the innkeeper's eyes bugged out. Forgetting all about how repulsive that prominent nose was, he bowed and scraped with a fawning grin.
"Enough, plenty enough... In dinars, ten is more than enough!"
Earlier, he had only reached for the gun under the counter out of fear that these men might skip out on the bill.
Now, there was no need to worry about that at all. A whole pouch of gold coins was enough to lodge them until the end of next month.
Watching the innkeeper count the coins with utmost care, the drunken despondence vanished from Korwei's face, the glory of the Legion returning to his posture.
He lifted his chin, looking down his nose at the innkeeper and saying nonchalantly, "Stop counting. Use the rest to book another room for my warrior—the most spacious one in the house!"
"Also, prepare a tub of hot water and clean towels, along with one jin of cooked beef and the finest beer, and send them up to his room!"
"Remember: the *finest* beer," Korwei tapped an index finger on the counter, pointing at the half-filled mug before narrowing his eyes at the innkeeper. "If you dare try to pass off that swill to my man, the next time I pass through here, I'll bring troops to tear your tavern down!"
"Right away, my lord!" Not caring in the slightest about the threat, the innkeeper beamed with joy at the sight of money, hastily sweeping the gold coins into his embrace before hurrying toward the kitchen behind the counter to direct the servants.
Korwei turned back to Pangolin, his voice soft and warm.
"Thank you for scolding me awake, for reminding me that there are things in this world more important than life itself... Go rest. Take a hot bath, eat your fill, and get some sleep."
"We set off first thing tomorrow morning."
Under that tender gaze, Battlefield Guy felt his goosebumps tumbling to the floor, his scalp tingling as if he had stuck his finger in an electric socket.
*Damn it.*
*I definitely need to lock my door tight tonight...*
Chapter 418