Ark Undead

"I need historical documents, and also..."

Old Setu added a strange comment.

He needs firewood.

Banga felt like he had a few more questions in his mind. Just as he was about to ask something, he heard the sound of the door opening.

Ding ding ding.

The bell rang in the wind and snow, and a dark brown figure appeared in the doorway in the candlelight.

He was carrying something on his back, and it wasn't until he closed the door and went into the inner room that Banga could see what it was.

That one glance almost made him spit out all the hot milk tea he was drinking.

That was a huge sword; perhaps a club would be more appropriate than a sword, because it was far too thick and too big.

Banga swore that if that thing was really made entirely of iron, he wouldn't even be able to lift it.

The man was carrying a black cloth bag. Liquid should have been flowing from the bottom of the bag, but it had been frozen into ice crystals by the low temperature.

As soon as he entered the room, he took the greatsword off his back and placed it on the ground next to him, with the hilt resting on the bar.

When Banga saw him wielding the greatsword with one hand, he thought it might be a fake. But when the wooden planks below creaked painfully and even developed a small crack, he realized it was the real deal.

"Be gentle! I've told you so many times, do you have to ruin my floor before you're satisfied?"

Old Seto said a few words of distress, but by the time he came to his senses, the cloth bag had already been placed on the bar.

"Things, here."

The liquid beneath the cloth bag thawed slightly in the warm room temperature, mixing with the melting snowflakes and emitting a faint rusty smell.

"Wow? That was fast?"

Old Setu was amazed, but without even looking at what was inside, he took the bag and threw it into the inner room.

There is no need to verify the authenticity of this person's work, because his task completion rate is 100%.

His mission this time was to kill the bandits who had been blocking the road and robbing people outside the village.

They were clever; they didn't provoke the large merchant groups, nor did they target the bounty hunters. Instead, they targeted villagers who were away on business, which allowed them to survive the previous year.

Until a newly minted bounty hunter happened to pass by, saw the notice while choosing a mission, and accepted the mission, which didn't pay very well.

"You got the task in the morning and came back in the evening. That's incredibly efficient. If you were any more diligent, I'd be envious of your income."

Old Seto sighed, wiped the bloodstains off the bar with a rag, then took out two books and a key from the cabinet next to him and tossed them to the taciturn bounty hunter in front of him.

"These are two books I recently looked out for for you. The firewood is ready for you in the woodshed in the back. Just like before, it's all bundled up for you. After you get the key, put it on the lamp stand outside the woodshed."

Old Seto seemed to trust this bounty hunter a lot.

Banga looked at the guy with curiosity.

The dim candlelight barely illuminated his figure hidden under the hood, and Banga could vaguely make out an iron helmet.

The clanging of metal emanating from his body as he moved seemed to confirm this.

His entire body was made of iron armor, even his hands, which were used to release things, were covered with a layer of iron chainmail.

Just as Banga was looking him over, the man also turned his head and glanced at Banga.

In that instant, he felt a chill run through him from head to toe, as if he had returned to the icy, snowy outside world.

Banga quickly looked away and took another sip of the hot milk tea in his cup to suppress the chill.

"Ah."

Withdrawing his gaze, the bounty hunter took the two books, put them into the bundle hanging on his chest, and nodded to old Seto.

"Thank you."

"Hey, the best way to thank you is to give me more tasks."

Old Seto waved his hand.

"Let's go, let's go, it's about time I closed up shop."

As the Undead walked out of the inn, Banga couldn't help but look back once more before turning his head back to look at old Setu in front of him.

"it's him?"

"uh-huh."

Old Seto made a muffled sound in his throat and cleared it.

"Well, it's about time. You should go."

"..."

Banga, unusually, didn't ask any further questions. He obediently drank the rest of the hot milk tea, lowered his head, turned around, and left.

Old Seto chuckled as he glanced at the door Banga had closed. He knew it was yet another guy scared off by a bounty hunter.

After extinguishing the candles in the main hall one by one, old Seto added a few more pieces of wood to the stove to ensure that the whole house would be warm when he went to sleep at night.

He went to the back door and, through the narrow crack in the door, saw that the light behind the woodshed was off before returning to his own room.

He took out the money bag that was supposed to be given to the bounty hunter from the cabinet, weighed it in his hand for a moment, and then tossed it back into the cabinet with satisfaction, locking it securely.

"He's an interesting guy who doesn't make money when he has the chance."

After muttering a few words, old Seto blew out the candle in his room and prepared to drift off to sleep.

Outside the window, the wind and snow continued to rage, even obscuring the moon's light.

All the lights in the village had been turned off, and in the absolute darkness, someone stepped out into the snow and ice.

The bounty hunter, carrying his firewood, left the inn and then walked out of the village.

Cold snowflakes fell on his robe, accumulating little by little until they soon formed a thick layer.

But he remained silent, his steps unchanged, as if he couldn't feel the cold at all, and even his breathing was very steady.

Following the path outside the village, the bounty hunter walked for about half an hour until he reached the cave where firelight was emanating from.

He quickened his pace, heading towards the cave filled with firelight, driven by his instinctive affinity for the campfire.

The hot wind that rushed in melted the snowflakes on my robe.

He put down the firewood on his back, placed the greatsword against the wall, sat down by the campfire, and carefully placed the two books in his arms behind him.

The bounty hunter pulled another book from the scattered pile of books nearby.

That was the part he hadn't finished reading yesterday; he planned to finish the rest of the book today.

The dozens of books scattered around him were all books about history and culture that he had collected over this period of time.

If you want to understand the history of the world, you can see everything in the development of nations and in people's lives.

He took off his hood, dried the water droplets on his gauntlets, and then removed his helmet.

Black hair was disheveled and draped over his head, covering the few wrinkles on his brow.

Her thin lips were tightly closed as if they would never open.

His gaze shifted from his deep-set eyes to the books resting on his lap.

He reached out and randomly picked a piece of firewood from the pile next to him, then threw it into the fire in front of him.

The night was long, and he had plenty of time to peruse this weighty history.

The firewood crackled and popped, accompanied by the all-night snowstorm and flickering flames outside the cave.

He opened the book and began to study it carefully.

60. A dangerous guy

As the wind and snow subsided, the first rays of sunlight shone on the snow-covered mountains and forests.

The cubs emerged from their hiding places, enjoying the precious moments of sunshine each day.

Because they knew that in a few hours, the dark clouds would gather again, the snow would continue, and the wind and rain would never stop—that was Shelag.

Inside the cave where firelight was rising, someone gently turned the last page of a book, pausing their reading that night.

He always felt a sense of familiarity with the history and culture of Shelag, but when asked to explain it in detail, he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

Perhaps it is a kingdom influenced by God that has existed since ancient times.

The Undead picked up a piece of firewood from beside him and threw it into the fire in front of him. He glanced at his side.

The campfire was kept burning day and night, and even the firewood obtained through bounty hunter channels would soon be burned up.

Even though he still had enough firewood for two days, Undying Man still planned to go out to work again today and take on a job.

There's no guarantee I'll have a suitable task tomorrow, and if I don't get one, I won't have enough firewood.

The undead, who had been sitting all night, got up, picked up the greatsword beside him, slung it on his back, and walked out of the warm cave.

Outside the cave, the sun shone brightly. The Undead squinted slightly, gazing at the sun in the sky.

After a long while, he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

The silent knight put on his helmet and pulled up his hood, hiding his face beneath it.

Under this brief moment of clear sky, the snowfield reflected the sunlight, as if it were sprinkled with golden grains.

Looking along the ridge, you can vaguely see villages in the distance, with smoke rising from their chimneys.

The Undead took a step and entered the snowfield.

"Hey, let me tell you, last night, it was snowing heavily outside, right? I even heard someone screaming."

"Really? What did you hear?"

"Someone was shouting? I couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, it was a mix of crying and yelling. But it stopped quickly, it almost kept me up all night."

"You must have heard someone screaming in bed, right? How long has it been since you've been with a woman? You can mistake that for screams?"

"I bet this idiot has never been with a woman! He's still a virgin!"

"Hahaha!!"

The inn was filled with cheerful smiles as bounty hunters arrived in droves that morning to accept missions. Most of them knew each other and had probably been on missions together before.