Battle Pig

The large white pig in the pigpen was still in shock.

This morning, it had enjoyed a rare feast, with plenty of cooked corn porridge and swill to fill its belly. But before it could rest, it was suddenly caught in a large net, then bound by several people working together, unable to move. After that, it was a bumpy ride to this place filled with the stench of blood.

And just now, it had been badly thrown by a murderous-looking guy.

It didn't know why all this was happening. The fall wasn't exactly harmful to its thick skin, but the sudden arrival in this unfamiliar environment and the terrifying strongman made it aware of an unprecedented danger.

The pig carefully shrank into the corner, trying to give itself a sense of security in this way, waiting for the humans it knew to appear.

Those were the good people who fed it. Maybe they would soon realize it was missing and bring it back to that safe den with endless food.

But it didn't wait for familiar faces. Instead, it saw a person holding that bloody, ominous thing walking towards it.

The pig sensed danger. It continued to howl menacingly, trying to scare the other party away with this method. But unexpectedly, a pair of somewhat familiar hands reached out from where it couldn't see, calling out to it in a friendly voice: "Oink, oink, oink."

It was the sound that meant it was time to eat.

The pig was a little confused, but the desire to eat still outweighed the unease in its heart. It followed the sound forward.

Maybe it would soon see the people it knew.

But he didn't wait for acquaintances, nor did he wait for food, only a sudden, life-threatening stab.

Blood spilled out, and the fear of death overwhelmed everything. The pig howled in pain again. It used all its strength to lurch forward, jumping away from the spot where it had been injured. A pair of small eyes full of fear looked at the young man in the pen with it, and then it shrank back into the corner, howling with all its might, trying to call out to the familiar person who had just called it.

Du Pont didn't know what it was thinking. He was just startled to see the pig, stabbed with the knife, still running, and couldn't help but take a step back.

"Damn, it's not dead yet?"

Earlier, he had asked a farmer to help distract the pig. While it was ignoring him, he followed the Butcher's instructions, came to its side, and tried to stab the dagger into the fat pig's heart.

But maybe the pig was too fat, or maybe because of the difference in height, he didn't use enough force. Du Pont's attack only went in about six or seven centimeters, giving the pig a wound that looked intimidating, but in reality, it didn't even cut the main artery. The sharp dagger was still stuck in its body.

Judy, who was also watching from the side, was immediately amused by the scene: "Du Pont, kid, you're not good enough. You actually got your weapon taken away while killing a pig. If word gets out, you'll be laughed at. If those nosy reporters find out, it'll definitely be on the front page of tomorrow's newspaper."

The Barbarian also laughed loudly: "I've already thought of the headline: 'Northwest Academy Apprentice Wields Magical Weapon in Decisive Battle Against Big Fat Pig, Unable to Overcome Despite Best Efforts. Is the Younger Generation Really This Incompetent? A Question Worth Pondering.'"

"What nonsense are you talking about? I call this a compassionate heart. You really don't understand," Du Pont said, blushing, without turning his head. His eyes were fixed on the fat pig.

If he really got bitten by this pig and had to go to the infirmary for treatment, he would lose a lot of face.

But the worst expectation didn't happen. Even though it had been stabbed, the pig had no intention of attacking. It just ran to a corner and grunted, as if threatening him not to come forward.

Without a weapon in his hand, it was almost impossible for Du Pont to kill the pig with his bare hands, but it was too embarrassing to borrow another weapon, so Du Pont had to find another way.

Using Light Spell again would also work, but it would more or less prove that he was at his wit's end, and he didn't want to do that unless it was the last resort.

The pig had been yelling, but it didn't seem like it wanted to attack. It was afraid of him.

Thinking of this, Du Pont had a plan in mind. He first took a few steps in front of the pig, and when the pig was nervously staring at him, he suddenly jumped forward, spread his arms, and let out a loud roar.

"Kill!!!"

The pig was already scared, and this sudden roar directly frightened it out of its wits. It dodged the strange man in front of it with all four hooves and fled with all its might, successfully finding a small path without obstacles near the strange man's legs.

But what it didn't know was that as it moved and exerted force throughout its body, the dagger originally stuck in its left hind leg was directly squeezed out by its muscles, and a large amount of blood slowly gushed out from the two-centimeter-wide wound.

The Butcher was a little disappointed when he saw this scene and shook his head.

The outcome had already been decided.

This pig was too timid. Even when injured, it chose to run away to save its life, returning the weapon that posed the greatest threat to it.

Now, even if Du Pont did nothing, the pig would bleed to death.

But this was normal. After all, it was just a domestic pig with no experience surviving in the wild. Even if it had some intelligence, it wouldn't have thought that humans would harm it. In addition, its ferocity had been greatly reduced after being castrated, so it failed to put on a good show.

"Alright, come over here. It'll be dead in a while," the Butcher called out. Du Pont shook his head and walked up with the dagger.

This time, his movements were much bolder.

Although the domestic pig was still making threatening grunts, Du Pont ignored it and quickly took a few steps, came to the wound from before, raised his arm, slightly changed the angle, and stabbed it again.

The entire blade went in, and the pig let out a deafening cry, but this time Du Pont wasn't frightened away. His hand also firmly grasped the hilt of the knife and directly pulled the dagger out. A fountain of blood spurted out of the wound, flying more than two meters before falling to the ground.

The pig ran away in pain again, but this time it no longer had endless strength in its body. It only ran a few steps before its hooves went soft and it knelt down, staring in fear at the human who had once again walked in front of it.

But this time, Du Pont didn't deliver a final blow. He just looked at the pig and sighed: "There's a saying in my hometown, 'treating you like a pig to be slaughtered.' I know it's an insulting thing to say, but I never really understood what it meant. Now I finally understand."

"Yeah, it clearly has good strength and physique, but because of its cowardly personality, it doesn't even dare to fight back. It's a very sad thing, but who told it to be a pig?" The Butcher finished speaking and smiled evilly: "In fact, this kind of thing is never rare. Just like some novice adventurers who are full of ambition before going out, but when they really start fighting, they realize it's not what they imagined at all. Some people become timid, drop their weapons, and kneel down, begging for the monster's mercy. Unfortunately, there aren't many examples of them surviving. Their results are mostly similar to this pig."

"What about you Barbarians?" Du Pont shook his head and asked, "I don't believe your tribe is full of warriors who fight to the death."

"Of course not. The Northlands only has so many resources. Every few years, tribes go to war. The winner takes all, killing the resisters. The remaining weaklings join the other party's tribe, changing their names and surnames. This is also the law of survival in the Northlands." The Butcher shrugged, looking indifferent: "The elders in the tribe call this the wisdom of survival, saying that this is how the Barbarians have lived for thousands of years, but I just feel it's stupid, so I left there and became a free adventurer."

While the two were talking, the pig swallowed its last breath, and a row of words appeared here for Du Pont.

[You have killed a domestic pig and gained 12 Experience Points]

He only gained a total of 22 Experience Points. Du Pont was a little disappointed.

It seemed that the 24-30 Experience Points per class at school were really a lot. The Experience Points that ordinary livestock could provide were simply pitiful, but the good thing was that they wouldn't resist.

"Alright, stop thinking about useless things like a woman," the Butcher said, then yelled at the farmers: "Alright, you guys, stop slacking off and come over here to work!"