The thick darkness was filled with shouts and cries of killing.
Occasionally, sparks from the clash of weapons flashed.
Alan's eyes also glowed faintly purple in the darkness.
The dark vision he inherited from his poisonous demon bloodline.
It allowed him to see clearly even in the pitch blackness, unaffected by his surroundings.
Snap!
Over ten meters away, a ball of fire ignited.
A bandit lit a spare oil lamp, exposing himself to the light.
Who allowed you to light a lamp?
Alan sneered and pulled the trigger of his crossbow.
A crossbow bolt pierced the bandit.
Amidst screams, the oil lamp fell to the ground, its light gradually dimming.
The wounded bandit, holding onto the wall, slowly slid down.
His moans gradually faded.
The crossbow bolt missed his vital point.
But the poison coating the arrowhead was enough to kill him in ten seconds.
Alan quietly shifted his stance and changed his sniper position.
He drew out a crossbow bolt and gently brushed it against the palm of his left hand.
The arrowhead struck a bone spur, instantly infusing the poison.
Reloading the crossbow, Alan shot and killed a mercenary.
Equally impacting.
Equally reducing the combat power of both sides.
Besides Alan.
There was another person in the cave, also possessing darkvision.
It was the half-orc Jason.
Thanks to his superior vision, Jason finally caught up with the mercenary captain.
After taking two more blows, he raised his axe and chopped off his opponent's head!
"Damn it! I feel good now!"
The orc finally let out a sigh of relief.
The intensity of his "beastly outburst" had passed.
The pain and fatigue weighed heavily on him.
Jason propped himself up with his battle axe, supporting his weakened legs.
His chest heaved violently, and he gasped for air.
As his mind calmed, he suddenly realized something was wrong!
Why was it so quiet?
The sounds of fighting had all faded.
He looked around.
The dark cave was littered with corpses.
The air was filled with the pungent smell of blood.
Aside from himself, there wasn't a single living person left.
No!
There's still one living person!
Footsteps could be heard from the opposite direction.
A tall, straight figure approached.
A black scarf covered his face.
Only a pair of sparkling, cold eyes were visible.
"Who are you?!" Jason demanded sharply.
The masked figure remained silent.
About ten meters away, he stopped.
He made a series of strange hand gestures.
"Tyávé!"
The masked figure softly chanted an incantation.
Oh no!
Jason's scalp tingled.
That mysterious figure... was actually a spellcaster!
As an apprentice to a violent sorcerer, Jason had decent martial arts skills, but he had yet to master a single spell.
He knew very well how terrifying a spellcaster could be!
Considering his current state of severe injuries and exhaustion,
He's not even worthy enough to challenge the spellcaster!
Without hesitation, the orc turned and ran.
But it was too late.
A familiar spicy taste instantly assaulted his mouth.
His taste buds and oral mucosa were subjected to an inhumane assault!
The intensity of the spiciness was beyond the human sense of taste.
It felt like swallowing a red-hot iron!
Jason couldn't help but open his mouth wide and scream.
At the same time, a black mass flew towards him.
Puff!
It hit Jason right in the face.
The paper bag shattered, spewing out lime powder mixed with poison.
"Ahhh—my eyes! My eyes!"
Jason's mouth burned like fire.
His only remaining eye was also burned by the lime.
The pain was unbearable, nearly blinding him.
Alan tugged at his mask.
Standing not far away, not too close.
Raising his crossbow, he aimed at the orc, who was covering his face and screaming, and pulled the trigger.
Swoosh!
A poisoned arrow lodged itself into the orc's back.
The bolt pierced through the leather armor, lodging more than two inches into the flesh.
Is there no way to dodge it even then?
It seemed he was truly at the end of his rope, with no more tricks up his sleeve.
Alan had a clue.
Sheathing his crossbow, he strode forward.
He suddenly unleashed his "Hound Step"!
His figure was lightning fast, almost teleporting to the orc's side.
A fist, infused with "bone-penetrating force," slammed into the orc's chest!
BANG!
The orc was sent flying by his all-out punch.
He flung himself a long way, lying flat on his back.
He spat out a large mouthful of blood and fell silent.
Alan drew his dagger and stepped forward to finish him off.
He slashed the orc's throat, ensuring it was completely dead.
He repeated the same pattern.
For each corpse on the ground, he first shot them with his crossbow, then slashed their throats.
Fake death and get away?
Sorry.
That's impossible with me.
Alan searched all the bodies present.
He found a purse on Jason.
It was filled with shiny silver coins—the commission Doberman had paid him.
Alan accepted it for him.
The other bandits and mercenaries had nothing of value on them.
The profiteer, Dubin, had given him a surprise.
"This is..."
Alan held the purse he had found on Dubin's body and felt a subtle fluctuation of magical energy.
Only a magical device could produce this feeling.
After a brief thought, Alan tried to inject magic into the purse.
It truly was a hidden gem!
The seemingly insignificant little pouch actually held a full cubic meter of space!
This was the legendary "storage bag."
"A good harvest."
Alan smiled faintly and turned to the corner.
Two sealed oak barrels, filled with dried peppercorns, lay side by side against the wall.
Alan stuffed the two barrels of pepper into the storage bag.
Next to them were two opened barrels of rum.
Alan walked over to the poisoned barrels.
A bone spur popped out from the palm of his left hand, absorbing the toxins in the wine.
The unscrupulous merchant, Doberman, had poisoned the wine.
It had a pleasant name: "Drunkenness, Dreams, and Death."
This substance itself was non-toxic.
However, when dissolved in alcohol, it became a deadly poison.
The effects of "Drunkenness, Dreams, and Death" would not be felt immediately.
After a while, as the alcohol took its toll, the toxin would take effect violently, killing the person.
For Allen, the delayed onset of "Drunkenness, Dreams, and Death" was extremely valuable, making it suitable for scheming.
Save this toxin in the system atlas so that he could synthesize it later using his own venom glands.
After completing the search, Allen overturned the barrel.
Let the strong liquor soak into the bodies scattered on the ground.
Strong rum, with an alcohol content of 60%, was the perfect fuel for disposing of the corpse.
One fire, and the entire cave instantly became a crematorium.
…
In the evening.
Alan returned home, his demeanor normal.
He locked himself in his bedroom and opened his storage bag.
He pulled out two large barrels of pepper and stuffed them sideways under the bed.
What to do with all this pepper?
Alan's first thought was to give it to his parents and keep it for their tavern.
In a flash, he dismissed this shortsighted idea.
Two barrels of pepper wouldn't last the tavern ten years.
Most of it would simply go bad and moldy.
Selling the unused pepper would be even more risky.
If word got out, he'd be suspected of robbing the pepper, leading to unnecessary trouble.
Alan stood by the window, gazing out at the vast night.
A reward was posted on the tree outside the window.
The owner, Marco's Company, was offering a high price for the stolen pepper.
Would you like to return the pepper to its rightful owner and claim the reward?