Goblin Dependency

Xia Nan did not deliberately hide his presence.

He just slightly adjusted his position towards that broken wooden door after perceiving the situation, making it easier to observe everyone's location.

Because of this, the captain of the Blood Blade Squad, "Marcus," managed to catch a glimpse of that fierce figure carrying dual swords in the crowd.

His wary gaze met the dark eyes that seemed like a deep forest pool.

A brief exchange and then apart.

"Gorg, I told you to stop, are you deaf?!"

Turning sharply, Marcus chided the half orc beside him, who was still itching to act against the girl in the secret compartment, in an unusually severe tone.

Not knowing what had happened, but the captain's abnormal behavior, bolstered by the vicious means they had accumulated over time, restored some reason to the almost desire-driven half orc Gorg.

"Chief, how can...?"

The burly pale green body awkwardly froze in place, emitting a confused and frustrated growl.

"I said, stop."

Marcus's voice was lowered further, yet it carried an undeniable force when it reached Gorg's ears.

Growl—

The low growl was filled with unwillingness, a submission to the squad captain derived from violence and survival instincts, as the half orc's chest heaved violently, breathing like a bellows, glaring at the trembling girl ahead.

Only then did he seemingly sulkily turn his steps towards the cabinet, choosing to eat instead of breed, to fill the void within.

Striding forward, with two scimitars hanging at his waist, he kicked aside the equally stunned Mountain Dwarf "Stone Belly" and leaned forward to grab the girl's collar, dragging her straight out of the secret compartment.

Before the crowd, he directly walked to the village chief Clapam and threw the trembling girl towards him.

"You, Clapam, right?" The vicious scar on his face reflected in the torch flames held by the villagers, looking like a twisted living creature, Marcus placed his right hand on the hilt, a calm yet deliberately suppressed raging fury emanating from his voice.

The villain stood right in front, the old man trembled, barely supporting his almost collapsed body as he croakily moved forward a few steps.

"Sir..."

"Listen, old thing, we're not here to massacre the village."

Marcus spat out the words in a cold tone, barely glancing at the so-called "village chief" in front before once more scanning the crowd, his gaze brushing past that fierce figure.

"We're just passing through, needing a place to stay and replenish a bit."

He uneasily twisted his neck, seeming unaccustomed to speaking like this to civilians ahead.

Then he extended two fingers in front of Clapam:

"A place to spend the night, and some supplies, enough for a few of us to eat and drink."

"Besides, we'll leave as soon as it's daybreak tomorrow. Keep an eye on these villagers, keep quiet, don't cause trouble."

Upon hearing this, Clapam suddenly looked up, filled with disbelief.

The abrupt turn of events almost made this elderly village chief think he was mishearing, instinctively observing the man's fierce face lit by flames, trying to find traces of jest and mockery.

Only discovering an extraordinary vigilance and wariness, even his arm muscles tensed, poised to exert force at any moment.

Clapam's heart suddenly leapt, seemingly reminded of something, a small spark named "hope" quietly igniting within him.

"Yes, sir, I'll surely restrain them, definitely won't disturb you."

He loudly assured.

To this, Marcus impatiently waved his hand, his tone granting begrudging generosity: "Have everything ready before dawn, meat, bread, and clean water! Don't try any tricks!"

Saying this, he abruptly turned and strode back to the wooden chair placed in the living room, sitting heavily as if each second of conversation was unbearable.

Watching the fierce figure disappear beyond the door frame, Clapam's previously upright frame suddenly shrank, his already weary face appeared even older, his clothing soaked with sweat.

"Tom, how is Abel?"

He asked with concern the condition of the landlord who was slapped out of the wooden hut by the half orc.

After learning there's no major problem, only a brief fainting, he let out a sigh of relief.

Called over Mike from the crowd.

"I still have some cured meat in my house, come over later to take it away, then fetch some provisions from the village warehouse, use an ox cart to transport it, I'll deliver it to them."

Seeing him nod, then turned towards the woman still in panic comforted by the village farm ladies, and the pale crying girl.

"The two from Abel's family, there's still an empty house on the east side of the village I recall, arrange for them to stay there."

"Remember what the adventurer just said, don't come near here."

"Everything else can wait until tomorrow, everyone disperse now."

Witnessing the whole ordeal, seeing Clapam arrange everything properly, the villagers drawn by the commotion, fearing for their lives, naturally didn't dare linger any longer.

Helping Tom and the others, they carried the unconscious wounded Abel, intending to treat him back in his own house.

Clapam turned his head to both sides, trying to find that young figure seemingly not involved but probably influencing the fierce adventurer's thoughts, to personally represent the village, represent Abel's family and express gratitude.