Task System: Under

Before the man could show a troubled expression, the youth added, "Young Master Renard ordered it. If you do a good job, your criminal records will be cleared."

The man's eyes widened instantly, his face full of disbelief. "Is there really such a good thing? You're not tricking us, are you?"

The youth sneered and retorted, "Do I need to trick you?"

"Of course not. With your esteemed status, why would you trick us lowly scum?" The man realized he'd misspoke and immediately put on a smile. He then turned and waved to his five companions behind him, saying, "Hurry over, we're saved this time!"

Five burly men quickly gathered around, gazing expectantly at the youth before them, their pitiable expressions completely at odds with their physiques.

However, Ben was leisurely filing his fingernails, as if he hadn't noticed.

After a long silence, the leader of the men suddenly reacted. He quickly unfastened his money pouch from his waist and respectfully handed it over, saying, "This is a small token of our brothers' appreciation. Please don't disdain it, Master Ben."

The youth gracefully accepted the money pouch and skillfully tossed it. "It would have been better if you did this earlier, saving us all this wasted time."

He put away the money pouch and commanded in a condescending tone, "Young Master Renard has ordered that you find Madam Tamara's lost pet within two days."

Find Madam Tamara's lost pet? The six burly men exchanged glances. The leader pondered for a moment, then asked curiously, "What does Young Master Renard want with it?"

"You don't need to know the reason. Just do as you're told." Ben put on an air of being too lazy to bother, while also warning, "If you do it well, everything will be fine. If you don't, you'll be in big trouble."

Though he said this, he was secretly thinking: If I knew what the young master wanted, would I need to use you guys?

After giving his instructions, the lackey Ben, weighing the money pouch, happily left the gate, leaving the burly men scratching their heads.

Leaving the slums, several lackeys bumped into each other. They were all holding something valuable, and as they looked at each other, they shared knowing smiles.

Renard didn't care how much his subordinates profited from him or others; his ultimate goal was merely to complete the System's assigned tasks, and he concerned himself with nothing else.

In the castle's living room, he had just finished a rather hearty lunch and was sitting alone, drinking tea. This was his only pleasure at the moment.

The tea, of course, was not the bitter or clear tea from his former life in Huaxia Nation. It was made from dried herbs ground into powder, mixed with honey, and then combined with milk – in short, a vanilla honey milk tea.

Just as he swallowed the cloyingly sweet vanilla honey milk tea, a person came rushing into the castle.

Upon closer inspection, it was the tall, thin youth who had taken on the first task.

The man looked extremely disheveled, his hair a mess, the buttons on his collar and cuffs missing, covered in dirt, and with clear footprints on his backside.

The tall, thin youth immediately collapsed before Renard upon entering, tears and snot flowing instantly. His acting skills were top-notch.

There was no need to guess; the man must have run into trouble while carrying out the mission.

Renard blew away the vanilla specks floating on the milk and took a couple of sips, asking with interest, "Go on! What happened?"

Seeing his calm demeanor, the tall, thin youth's expression faltered slightly. He didn't rush to report the situation but instead gave a thumbs-up and exclaimed, "Young Master's composure is getting better and better."

Renard's face turned dark. He kicked out, "Speak plainly. Did you run into difficulties?"

The lackey nimbly dodged and got up from the ground, massaging his leg as he replied with a pained expression, "Young Master guessed correctly. We did encounter quite a bit of trouble."

He then proceeded to narrate the events in detail, emphasizing the part where he was beaten: "Mr. Wilson's Medal of Merit is with Old Walker. I explained the situation to him, but he refused to hand it over and even hit me. Like this..."

"Old Walker?" Renard ignored the youth's complaints, repeating the name and rapidly searching his mind for related memories.

Old Walker was quite a figure in Saint Brieuc Fortress. In his youth, he was a renowned adventurer in the area, reaching the level of a High-level Swordsman.

Now, old and frail, his skills were nowhere near what they used to be. Unable to continue a life of danger, he used his reputation from his younger days to open a shop that bought goods from adventurers.

Even though it was just a small general store, any involvement with adventurers meant there were many complexities involved.

As the saying goes: heroes defy laws with their might.

If adventurers caused trouble within the territory, even Baron Hamilton would find it a headache to deal with.

Seeing that his young master wasn't paying attention to him, the tall, thin youth wisely fell silent, but he maintained his pitiful expression, clearly waiting for a response.

According to past practice, Renard would surely fly into a rage, gather his men, and storm the place. Even if they didn't come out on top, they would at least vent their anger.

However, to his surprise, after waiting for a long time, Renard didn't get angry at all. Instead, he smiled, though it was a smile that sent chills down one's spine.

The tall, thin youth shivered involuntarily, thinking to himself: The young master seems to have become even more abnormal since being struck by lightning.

Renard was still smiling, a very strange smile.

Cold sweat beaded on the lackey's back. He kept glancing towards the sofa, looking at Renard's smiling face, feeling utterly uncomfortable, as if facing a cunning fox.

He began to speculate: The young master must have been provoked by that scumbag Gilbert, which is why he's become so gloomy.

However, this time he was mistaken. Renard had simply thought of a brilliant idea to complete the mission, hence his happy smile.

Selina, who was pouring tea nearby, shook her head slightly, knowing her young master had likely come up with another mischievous plan.

After a long period of contemplation, Renard took a deep breath and was about to speak when the lackey volunteered, "Young Master, how dare Old Walker disrespect you? Let's gather our men and smash his shop!"

Renard opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. He sighed slightly, leaning back on the sofa listlessly, and beckoned the other man over.

The lackey grinned and approached, only to be met with a sharp slap.

"Brainless fool, brainless fool!" Renard lightly punched him on the head twice.

He then lit two cigars, took a couple of puffs, and said, "We're all people of status. Don't just think about fighting and killing all the time. Besides, what's Old Walker's strength, and what's ours? Going to him like that would just be sending ourselves to be beaten."

If you think this book is good, remember to add it to your bookshelf to avoid losing it next time.