Sacrifice's Rise: I Became Invincible After Entering Godslayer Temple Chapter 681 Eager to Help

Ali's words caused Rudo to falter.

Though he and Monka possessed a general understanding of the assault's truth, it was evident they couldn't be the ones to reveal it to the subhumans, carrying as they did far too many secrets.

Their intentions might have been noble, but one falsehood necessitates another, and so on.

Should these deceptions be unearthed now, Monka's reputation would undoubtedly suffer a severe blow.

Thus, Rudo found himself unable to dismiss Ali's proposal, needing instead to feign keen interest.

This was precisely the expected conduct of a battle-hardened leader.

"What intel do you possess? If it's merely fabricated tales, prepare to forfeit something before leaving here!"

The mere revelation of a concealed location promised considerable future complications.

"Calm yourself, do I appear to be one who spouts baseless claims?" Ali inquired with a chuckle.

"Allow me to inform you, the perpetrator of the attack you suffered is none other than a prosperous merchant named Gick, currently residing at the sole inn within Oak Village!"

"Tonight, my intention is to execute a surprise offensive and end his life!"

"Should you have no objection to the murderer of your kin perishing by another's hand, I would be pleased to assist you in exacting vengeance. After all, I am precisely the sort of individual who relishes aiding others."

This was undeniably a provocation, yet it invariably proved effective against half-orcs and orcs alike.

For orcs and half-orcs, who hold the sacred code of battle above all else, the act of revenge is never delegated; every adversary must fall by their own blade!

This principle embodies the honor and inherent dignity of both orcs and half-orcs.

"Naturally, should you desire to lend your strength, rendezvous with me at the north gate of Oak Village as dusk descends."

"If you harbor suspicions of me being a spy or orchestrating a trap, then regrettably, there is little more I can say. After all, I possess no concrete proof. And for the timid soul, no amount of evidence will ever suffice."

With her statement concluded, Ali turned, presenting her back to the half-orcs, offering a casual wave as she departed.

Ali understood the delicate art of negotiation, recognizing that pushing too hard could jeopardize the outcome; she knew haste rarely led to success.

Furthermore, with Monka's absence, and although Rudo held the position of combat leader, he lacked the profound spiritual authority that Monka commanded.

Had Monka been present, Ali might have intensified her efforts, but with Rudo alone, merely delivering the message with clarity was sufficient.

They would undoubtedly work themselves into a fervor on their own.

Such was the inherent passion of half-orcs.

However, a lingering question remained: where was that cunning old fox, Monka?

As the main thoroughfare began to pulse with activity, Monka finally laid his eyes upon the entrance to Oak Village.

To label them 'gates' might be an overstatement; they were merely two rudimentary wooden fence panels affixed to a boundary wall standing approximately a person's height, offering minimal defensive capabilities.

Indeed, such rudimentary wooden barriers could scarcely impede larger beasts, let alone formidable spellbeast subspecies or spellbeasts themselves.

Were it not for the subhuman settlement discreetly managing the overabundance of wild beasts, Oak Village would not be experiencing its current state of tranquility.

Ultimately, the two settlements maintained a symbiotic coexistence.

Even though the forest settlement found itself at a disadvantage, the loss of either would prove significantly detrimental to the other.

"So, it is finally time to thoroughly survey this place. After all these years since my departure, this marks my inaugural return."

Monka adjusted the hood shielding his head, effectively concealing his distinctive wolf ears.

While the inhabitants of Oak Village posed no direct threat, he could not be entirely certain about the transient merchants, who might suddenly decide to adopt the role of bandits or engage in the slave trade.

Monka had unfortunately experienced such predicaments firsthand in the past.

In the eyes of some humans, subhumans were reduced to mere chattel, perhaps not even valued as highly as livestock, their existence treated as disposable commodities.

The living conditions endured by subhumans within human societies were appallingly dire, a reality that demanded rectification.

And for such change to manifest, bloodshed was an inevitable precursor.

Historically, no revolution has ever occurred without the shedding of blood.

Navigating the considerably expanded streets of Oak Village, Monka observed the surrounding shops and residences with a discerning gaze.

Although the thoroughfares remained unrefined, composed merely of compacted earth, and the dwellings constructed in a somewhat haphazard fashion, there was an undeniable undercurrent of transformation.

Owing to its escalating strategic significance and advantageous environmental position, Oak Village was gradually evolving.

He did not actively seek out his longtime friend.

After such an extended period, it was uncertain whether the friend would even recognize Monka, or if he was still among the living.

However, if he indeed remained alive, it was highly probable he would not fail to perceive Monka's reappearance.

That individual possessed the characteristic semblance of an aged spider, appearing inert at the epicenter of its intricate web, yet exhibiting an uncanny sensitivity to the slightest perturbation.

Should he seem unresponsive, it merely signified that one was not even deemed worthy of the minimal effort required for him to lift a finger; his self-erected security apparatus would autonomously neutralize the perceived threat.

Acting upon intelligence acquired from his clandestine network, Monka located the village's singular inn.

Its identification was uncomplicated; the Nameless Inn stood as the village's most elevated structure, a four-story wooden edifice, distinctively constructed, likely the product of architectural ingenuity from a more developed urban center.

While not intending to insult the carpenters or builders of Oak Village, the difference between large cities and small settlements was immense in areas where mana was absent.

Technologies that were commonplace in major cities appeared almost mystical and wondrous in smaller villages.

Oak Village, being a frequent stop for many travelers, had not lagged in this regard, resulting in respectable construction standards.

Pausing before the inn, Monka gazed up at the four-story structure, a slight curve gracing his lips.

Even without stepping inside, he could perceive a powerful presence within, reminiscent of individuals who command respect wherever they venture.

This person emanated an aura of confidence and authority with every movement.

Only this individual could possess such an aura; his brother, while more powerful, lacked this imposing air, exhibiting a more tranquil and focused disposition.

How long had it been since that time?

Monka stroked his chin thoughtfully.

The duration wasn't truly significant, considering that sub-humans generally possessed longer lifespans than ordinary humans.

Half-dwarves and half-gnomes typically lived for nearly forty years longer than humans.

Half-orcs had lifespans approximately double that of humans, whereas the lifespan of half-elves could range from three to five times that of humans, contingent on their specific bloodline.

With a pure and noble lineage, some individuals could even approach the longevity of high elves.

Pausing at the entrance, Monka shook his head and began to turn away.

"Sir, are you seeking lodging for the night?"

A figure stepped to intercept Monka's path.

Looking down, Monka could only discern a pair of well-made linen trousers and some delicate hunting leather boots.

This was someone of considerable means, Monka deduced instantly.

Perhaps the boots alone wouldn't lead to such a conclusion; fine leather boots, though costly, were within the reach of a merchant who was willing to save up, especially since a decent pair was crucial for travel.

However, the seemingly simple linen trousers told a different tale.

Linen, subject to its quality, varied considerably in price.

With Monka's experienced eye, he immediately identified the quality of the linen used for these trousers.

Without exaggeration, those trousers could command the price of a carriage!

"I had planned to, but it appears there is no space available for me."

Monka raised his head, his gaze falling upon Gick's face, which still retained a youthful appearance.

Although there were some differences from his recollection, the determined spirit of the young man he once knew was evident in his features.

"I apologize, but I have secured the entire establishment. You will need to find alternative accommodation elsewhere, sir. If you permit, I can assist in finding you temporary lodgings within the village."

Upon seeing Monka's face, Gick's expression remained unchanged, still conveying sincerity and solemnity, as if he were addressing a distinguished elder rather than an orc ostracized like a city rat, maintaining impeccable noble manners.

"No matter, I have simply reconsidered," Monka stated with a smile.

"I am not yet so frail that I cannot walk. If there are no rooms here, I shall continue my journey; I am confident I will find a fitting inn. And if not, constructing one myself seems like a viable option."

"Sir, you possess foresight! Indeed, having only one inn along this route is insufficient."

Gick's demeanor grew even more humble, a glint of deference in his eyes.

"However, if you intend to establish an inn, sir, you will be challenging established interests. Particularly the current proprietress of this establishment. She may appear amiable, but interfering with someone's source of income is akin to causing their demise."

"And you are...?"

Monka suddenly regarded Gick with a sideways glance.

Caught by surprise, Gick responded with a smile, "A patron."

"Since you are a patron, kindly mind your own affairs!"

Monka retorted sharply with a cold chuckle, adjusted his cloak, and departed without a backward glance.

Observing Monka's resolute departure, Gick slowly stood upright, his expression returning to a state of calm.

Despite the intervening years, the old man remained astute; age had not diminished his sharp mind in the slightest.