I'm not a Witcher anymore.

As they emerged from the other side of the cave, both of them gasped for fresh air, as if they were drowning people finally surfacing.

"Damn it," Geralt coughed a few times, "I'd rather fight a ghoul than go back into that place a second time."

Ziegler deeply agreed.

The two continued forward, walking along the mountain path for a while longer.

This section of the road was significantly easier to walk on than before. Although the ground was rugged, it was not as steep, and some tenacious shrubs even grew on the rock walls on both sides.

Sunlight streamed through the sparse clouds, making the two, who had just experienced the darkness of the cave, feel exceptionally comfortable.

Suddenly, a silly-sounding voice came from above, with a heavy accent and broken grammar:

"Get out of here, witcher! This is the mountain of trolls!"

Sieg and Geralt stopped and looked up.

Three simple-minded trolls stood on the steep slope in front of them, looking down at them.

These trolls were so massive that their width and height were almost identical, making them look like three enormous stone pillars swaying from a distance.

Each of them is over two meters tall and probably weighs several hundred kilograms, yet they are surprisingly agile.

Trolls have a very distinctive appearance.

The skin on the front of their bodies—between their chest and abdomen—appears relatively smooth and soft.

However, the skin on the back of the body, the sides of the neck, and the top of the head is as rough as a rock surface.

Pebbles of varying sizes and uneven surfaces are embedded in the skin, as if they were born there, forming a natural armor resembling a tortoise shell.

Their round heads had two small eyes, which were now watching the two witchers warily.

The troll at the front was holding a thick wooden club, looking ready to fight at any moment.

Geralt's eyelids twitched, and he quickly stepped aside to block Sieg.

"I'll handle this, Zieg." His tone was clearly tense.

He was genuinely afraid that Zieg would do what he did to Old Spearhead: draw his sword and charge into a fight without a word.

Long ago, the ancestors of the Witchers hunted trolls extensively.

At that time, trolls preyed on humans and posed a threat to villages and caravans, so they were considered monsters that had to be eliminated.

However, this has become increasingly rare over time.

One reason is that trolls gradually discovered that eating ordinary animals was much easier than eating humans, and it wouldn't attract the attention of witchers.

On the other hand, and more importantly, after centuries of hunting, the number of trolls has been greatly reduced, almost to the point of being endangered.

Trolls nowadays often congregate in remote mountainous areas, and they usually do not attack humans unless threatened.

Moreover, trolls are intelligent beings. Although they are not very smart and speak with a stutter, they can understand complex concepts and can even trade and negotiate.

Geralt has met many trolls who live peacefully with humans, some of whom even help towns build bridges and roads, as long as they are given enough food as payment.

Therefore, avoiding a fight would be the best outcome.

Sieg gave Geralt a reassuring look, indicating that he didn't need to worry.

Then he looked up at the trolls on the steep slope and shouted, "No, this is the Witcher's Mountain. The land you see is the Witcher's land."

The troll in the lead paused, pointed around with its short, stubby fingers, and stammered.

"But the witchers haven't come for a very long time. The trolls have lived on this mountain for decades."

It speaks slowly, with distinct pauses between each word, as if it is struggling to organize its thoughts.

The three trolls all looked very serious, clearly believing their logic to be perfectly reasonable:

Since the Witchers haven't come for so long, this place should naturally be their territory.

"If someone were to break into your cave and live there for decades, even if the cave belonged to them, would you accept it?"

Zieg used the simplest and most straightforward metaphors to ensure that these lowly trolls could understand.

The leading troll scratched his already bald head with a goofy expression.

The stone outer shell made a cracking sound.

It seemed to be seriously considering the question, its small eyes revealing great confusion: "This...it seems I can't recognize it?"

However, as soon as it finished speaking, the slightly more intelligent troll next to it suddenly stretched out its fan-sized hand and slapped it on the back of the head.

Snapped!

The sound was so loud that it startled several crows in the mountains, and the echo lingered in the valley for a long time.

The lead troll staggered forward, nearly tumbling down the steep slope.

"Fool! Don't be fooled by the Witcher!" the troll grumbled. "Witcher, cunning, cunning! Everything you say is a trap!"

The troll leader was jolted awake by the slap.

"Witchers, you want to drive away the trolls? Make them homeless? The trolls don't want to leave the mountains!"

Its voice became excited, and it even stomped its feet hard, causing the gravel on the hillside to tumble down.

The troll beside it, which had woken it up, even brandished its fist, the size of a casserole dish, as a threat: "Trolls won't leave! Trolls will fight for their homeland!"

Zig looked up at them, his tone unchanged.

"I don't intend to kick you out. As long as you listen to me and keep an eye on this mountain, you can continue to live here. If you don't cause trouble, the witchers won't bother you."

The three trolls simultaneously showed confused expressions, looking at each other, clearly unfamiliar with this new concept.

"Listen to me?" the leading troll repeated.

"Not causing trouble?" the other troll asked.

The third troll simply started scratching its head.

"What do you want me to do, troll? Trolls don't know how to do complicated things."

"It's not complicated. You'll continue to watch over this mountain. Anyone who dares to go up besides me and my friends, just throw stones at them. You all know how to do that."

The three trolls immediately nodded; this was indeed something they excelled at.

Trolls are incredibly accurate and powerful when throwing stones; a stone the size of a human head thrown from their hands has the power of a catapult.

"If I move you to another place in the future, you will still do the same thing."

"Guard the gate and watch the path up the mountain. Don't let anyone who should be stopped sneak in."

"As long as you work for me, you're all one of us."

"Witchers do not kill the trolls who guard their mountains."

The three trolls exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with doubt.

Seeing that the trolls were still hesitating, Sieg took the wine pouch from his waist.

As soon as the cork was pulled out, a strong aroma of alcohol wafted out on the mountain breeze.

The three trolls' noses twitched a few times simultaneously, and their previously wary little eyes suddenly lit up.

"Since you're working for me, there are bound to be benefits." Zieg re-corked the wine flask and tossed it over. "Take this first."

The lead troll hurriedly caught the wine sac, held it to his chest, and made gurgling sounds in his throat.

It asked cautiously, "If I recognize a master, I'll get wine?"

Zig nodded: "Yes, guard the mountain well, and you'll have plenty of meat and wine in the future."