Isolde did not leave Grey Oak Village immediately.
She found the most ordinary tavern in the village, planning to rest for the night.
The tavern was close to the stables; its wooden walls showed signs of rot, and the stairs creaked when stepped on.
The owner was a plump woman with shrewd eyes. Seeing her enter covered in blood and mud, she gasped in surprise before asking uncertainly,
“Rena?”
Rena looked up at her, her voice raspy.
“A room, hot water, clean cloth strips, and a set of clean clothes.”
The owner stared at her for a moment but didn't ask questions. She simply stretched her hand out across the counter.
“Pay first.”
Rena fished three silver coins out of her pouch and slapped them onto the counter.
“Is this enough?”
The owner glanced at the silver coins, her eyes flickering.
Three silver coins were barely enough, but she wanted more.
But before she could speak, Rena looked up at her, carrying a murderous aura that felt as if she had just crawled out of a pile of corpses.
“If it's not enough, go to hell and ask Buck for it.”
The owner's expression shifted slightly, and she shut her mouth immediately.
Isolde walked into her room.
The room was very narrow, containing only a bed, a table, and an oil lamp.
The window was sealed with yellowed oilcloth, which fluttered gently whenever the wind blew.
Before long, her requests were delivered.
Once the owner left, Isolde first checked the door lock and the window cracks, then stretched an extremely thin Soul Thread across the foot of the bed, the window, and the door.
The Soul Threads sank into the gaps between the wooden boards, leaving almost no trace.
If anyone pushed the door open from the outside or climbed in through the window, she would notice immediately.
Only after doing this did she take off her tattered cloak and use the hot water to wipe away the excess mud and grime from her face.
After cleaning up briefly, Isolde sat down on the edge of the bed.
The wooden bedboard was very hard, covered with a layer of damp, old bedding, which could not compare to the soft, large bed in Crow Candle Castle at all.
Yet she merely looked down at it before lying down calmly.
In her past life, she had slept in mine shafts, abandoned houses, and bug-infested haystacks.
Having a flat wooden bedboard was already considered a luxury.
Besides, she cared far more about another matter right now than comfort.
The treant in the Mist-Dwelling Forest.
That was no ordinary monster.
A tree required a thousand years of accumulated time to mutate into a treant.
Even a single fallen leaf was a rare material that alchemists and craftsmen would fight over.
It could be said that its entire body was made of ultra-rare treasures.
Some of the materials would be more than enough to upgrade Goldie.
The best-case scenario tomorrow would be to use the treant to deal with those enemies from her past life first, and then have Moon step in to assist, taking down the treant altogether while it was weakened from the fight.
Her enemies had to die.
And she had to get the materials.
Since she was already here, she naturally had to claim all the best things.
...
The next morning.
Just as Rena stepped out of the tavern, she was stopped.
It was Milo.
He stood in the middle of the road, a cloth wrapped around his temple, his eyes bloodshot from a lack of sleep.
Compared to last night, he looked even more disheveled, yet he possessed a bit of forced courage.
The reason likely had to do with the person standing beside him in the dark green cloak.
That person was not tall, fully covered by the cloak, and wore a crude mask over her face.
The mask had little decoration, with only two round eyeholes cut out, looking rather strange.
Even more eye-catching was the weapon wrapped in thick cloth on her back.
The object was larger than her upper body, broad and heavy, with a hint of dark metal showing at the edge of the cloth wrapping.
Rena's gaze lingered on the weapon for a brief moment.
Then, she looked up at Milo, her eyes filled with disgust.
“You still dare to show your face in front of me?”
Milo's face flushed red.
“Because you're a fake! Don't think you can deceive me anymore!”
Rena raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
She took a step forward.
“Are you trying to say I'm not Rena? That I'm an undead that crawled out of the castle, specifically coming back to claim your life?”
Milo's pupils shrank, and he instinctively took a step back before forcing himself to stand his ground.
Isolde smiled inwardly as she watched his reaction.
It seemed he had indeed figured out some details last night.
But even if he had, it was useless.
Because his words carried no weight at all; they would only paint him as a madman with mental issues.
Milo whipped his head around and shouted toward the street,
“Everyone, come over here! I have something to say!”
A few people on the roadside glanced at him and quickly looked away.
The blacksmith's young apprentice continued to pump the bellows.
A few mercenaries walked out of the tavern. Hearing his voice, they merely sneered.
“Milo is at it again.”
“Didn't he embarrass himself enough last night?”
“Ignore him. The more attention you give him, the more dramatic he gets.”
Milo felt somewhat helpless. Clenching his fists, he continued to shout,
“Please give me just a moment, just a little bit of your time!”
Before he could finish his sentence, the dark green-cloaked figure beside him suddenly moved.
The figure reached back and unslung the cloth-wrapped weapon from her back.
In the next instant, the heavy weapon slammed violently into the ground.
Thud!
The dirt ground shook violently, sending pebbles and muddy water splashing half a foot into the air.
A crater was smashed right into the middle of the road, with several fine cracks spreading out from its edges.
The surrounding noise instantly vanished.
The mercenaries at the tavern entrance also turned their heads in unison.
Isolde's heart stirred slightly.
Although the weapon was still wrapped in cloth, the force behind its impact was incredibly heavy.
This dark green-cloaked figure had a petite frame and slender arms, yet possessed such terrifying strength.
Perhaps she could even match Lia in arm wrestling.
Just what was this person's background?
Isolde felt a flicker of interest, along with a hint of wariness.
Milo gave the person beside him a grateful look.
The dark green-cloaked figure simply slung the cloth-wrapped weapon back over her shoulder, her voice drifting out from behind the mask.
“Now they will listen.”
Milo took a deep breath, as if he had finally grasped his courage.
He raised his hand and pointed at Rena, who stood not far away.
“Rena, last night you said Buck and the others died in the Mist-Dwelling Forest, attacked by a treant, right?”
Rena looked at him coldly. “So what?”
Milo gritted his teeth. “If what you said is true, then we should go and avenge Buck and the others.”
The crowd grew quieter as Milo continued,
“The treant is very strong. If it could kill Buck and his group, it means it has become a threat to the forest. Crossing the forest to get to Blackthorn Ferry will become extremely dangerous in the future.”
These words were much smarter than what he had said last night.
Isolde's peripheral vision swept over the dark green-cloaked figure.
It seemed someone had given him some advice.
Milo's voice grew louder and louder.
“We can't just let this slide. We should gather people right now, head into the Mist-Dwelling Forest together, and kill that treant!”
Some people in the crowd quickly grew interested.
A treant was indeed dangerous, but it also possessed extremely rare materials.
Someone immediately asked, “Then who gets the loot?”
Milo froze.
He had spent the entire night thinking about how to expose Rena, but he had never considered how the loot would be divided if they actually formed a team.
As he hesitated, the dark green-cloaked figure beside him spoke up.
“To those who contribute the most, goes the most.”
Everyone looked at her.
She held her cloth-wrapped weapon, her tone very calm.
“Whoever contributes more gets more. Whoever hides in the back gets less. It's as simple as that.”
These words were very straightforward, perfectly matching the mercenaries' taste.
The mercenaries looked at one another, and some nodded.
“Now that's a straightforward rule.”
“It's much better than those Descenders dividing things randomly by party.”
“Who is she? She's got quite a bit of strength.”
The dark green-cloaked figure didn't explain. She simply took half a step forward.
“I'm in.”
Milo immediately straightened his back.
With her words, his confidence clearly surged.
He looked at Rena, a trace of uncontrollable provocation in his eyes.
“Rena, do you dare to lead the way?”
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