My inventory is full of monster materials.

The ogres and the werewolf pack are locked in a silent standoff.

Mark was caught in the middle, somewhat like the eye of a storm, and for a moment, he even had a chance to catch his breath.

However, Mark did not relax; instead, he quickly used his brain to assess the situation on both sides.

Because the cannibals "grew brains" and didn't rush in to fight in a fit of rage, Mark lost his chance to take advantage of the chaos.

On the other hand, the other side is also strange.

Dire wolves are natural monsters, while werewolves are essentially beastmen, that is, people who have developed beast-like characteristics due to the power of a curse!

How did these two creatures end up together?

While Mark was lost in thought, the werewolf, who had taken the initiative, reacted.

It first glanced fiercely at Mark, then locked its gaze on the cannibal in front of it, letting out a hoarse and menacing roar.

"יְצוּרמְטֻנָּף，סוּרמֵאַרְצִי! (You filthy thing, get out of my territory!)"

"..."

Mark wasn't very knowledgeable about linguistics, but he knew that the voice didn't sound like animal language. Instead, it carried the obscurity and eeriness of the language of the abyss. He had no idea what it was exactly, but the tone of the voice implied a meaning—to expel.

But the ogre stood still, its fangs and jaws opening and closing several times, finally emitting a series of hoarse, chattering sounds.

"תֵּןאוֹתוֹלִי，וְאֵלֵךְ. (Hand it over, and I'll leave.)"

Clearly, the ogres had not given up on hunting Mark; even when surrounded by a pack of dire wolves, they kept their eyes fixed on their target.

But to everyone's surprise, the werewolf flew into a rage upon hearing this and let out a deafening roar.

"צא! (Get out!)"

At the same time, the surrounding dire wolves became even more agitated, baring their teeth and growling, leaning forward slightly, waiting for their leader's command to swarm and tear the enemy apart.

The ogre hesitated for once, instinctively clenching his fist, only to find that his familiar large spiked club was not in his hand—he had left it at the foot of the mountain while climbing the cliff.

Facing a pack of dire wolves and a werewolf whose strength is no less than one's own bare hands, it is clear that there is no chance of victory.

So the ogre decided to retreat.

Caught between the two sides, Mark looked around, observing their expressions and demeanor, and could basically determine the approximate outcome of the negotiations.

But Mark showed no joy whatsoever.

Werewolves drive away ogres because their territory has been invaded; once the ogres leave, they will be the next to suffer.

With that in mind, Mark quietly switched skills, holding a ball of white light in his palm, keeping it hidden and watching for an opportunity to escape.

The standoff between the two sides of monsters finally came to a conclusion.

After weighing the pros and cons, the brain-core cannibal gave Mark a vicious look, turned around angrily, and retreated step by step to the edge of the cliff, preparing to return the way it came.

Seeing the ogre leave, the werewolf's ferocity faded slightly. Then, looking down at Mark from his high position, he spoke fluent Common Continental language.

"I smell the death of my people on you, I will tear you to pieces—"

Just then, Mark slammed the white light in his hand onto the ground.

Bang!

Thick white smoke exploded from beneath his feet, instantly engulfing his figure.

1st Ring "White Mist"

Upon seeing this, the werewolf let out a low growl and charged into the white mist first, followed closely by several large dire wolves.

What they didn't know was that this white mist was not ordinary white mist, but a magical construct that could temporarily weaken perception.

"Whoosh—swish—snap! Awooo~"

After the werewolf pack entered the white fog, they could only wander back and forth, charging around aimlessly, howling, but they couldn't find Mark's trace like headless flies.

Suddenly, a figure shot out from the white mist and rushed toward the ogre at an extremely fast speed.

As the white mist gradually dissipated, the werewolf finally realized that he had been tricked by this insignificant human, and let out a furious roar at Mark's departing figure.

"roar!"

After the roar, the werewolf led the pack of dire wolves in a swarm.

At the same time, the ogre sensed the violent commotion behind him, stopped in his tracks, and turned around to see what was happening.

What came into view was a foot that seemed to grow infinitely larger in the field of vision, stomping hard on the ogre's face with a sharp gust of wind.

Mark stepped on the ogre's face, leaped off the cliff, and stretched his body in mid-air to make an international friendship gesture towards the ogre, silently saying...

"You shit!"

The cannibal was clearly stunned and stood there.

But the next second, the werewolves and the pack pounced—they didn't care whether the wolf was innocent or not, they just wanted to vent their anger on other things.

As Mark plummeted, he watched the ogres and werewolves fight and roar in a chaotic battle, a smug smile creeping onto his lips.

Then, he quickly inserted his fingers into the cylindrical hole on his back, switched skills and cast the first level of "Feather Fall Technique". His falling speed slowed down instantly, and he landed safely like a feather.

……

……

As the sky darkened, the forest was enveloped in twilight, and the evening breeze carried a slight chill.

The campfire in the center of the camp had long since gone out, leaving only a pile of dark red embers with a faint residual heat.

On the nearby perch, a small beige fennec fox was curled up, its chin resting on its fluffy tail, its large ears twitching gently from time to time, looking very comfortable and at ease.

Vera had a great day.

During the day, she easily completed the gentle human's "task" and then skipped back to the camp to ask for her reward.

But the campsite was empty at that time, except for a bowl of warm honey sitting quietly by the campfire.

Vera happily licked the honey, but was reluctant to leave. It was not only the delicious sweet drink, but also the rare sight of a "fellow countryman". So she drifted off to sleep.

boom--!

The fence outside the camp gate was suddenly smashed open.

Vera jerked her head up and pricked up her ears—

Henry and his men staggered into the camp, their faces covered in dust and blood, their expressions solemn and sorrowful.

When Vera the fennec fox recognized them, she immediately let out a soft "woof" and hopped quickly to Clyde's feet, rubbing her fluffy head against his trouser leg in a sweet and affectionate manner, hoping that he would stroke her head like he did during the day.

However, at this moment, Clyde's expression was terrifyingly cold, his eyes were full of resentment, and he exuded a chilling aura.

Vera was clearly intimidated by Clyde's aura, and timidly took a few steps back, her big ears drooping, as if she had done something wrong.

After hesitating for a moment, she turned and ran towards Emily—in her heart, Emily was the second "good person" after Clyde, and she would always treat her gently.

But Emily was also in pain; her eyes were red and swollen with tears, which she managed to hold back.

Seeing Vera run towards her, Emily hugged the little fennec fox to her chest. As she gently stroked its fur with her fingers, she could no longer hold back her tears. Large teardrops fell onto Vera's little face, cold and sharp.

The camp fell into a deathly silence; the heat of the campfire had completely died out, leaving only heavy breathing and suppressed sobs.

Finally, Henry could no longer hold on. His knees buckled, and he knelt heavily on the ground, head down, his fists slamming into the ground, sending dirt flying.

"Why—! Why did it turn out like this?!"

Henry's voice sounded like it was being torn from the depths of his throat, with a faint metallic taste.

But no one responded.