Before the man could look troubled, the young man added, "Young Master Renard gave the order. Do a good job, and your criminal records will be cleared."
The man's eyes widened, disbelief written all over his face. "Is that really possible? You're not pulling our leg, are you?"
The young man sneered. "Why the hell would I lie to you?"
"Of course you wouldn't. Why would someone as esteemed as you lie to lowlifes like us?" Realizing he'd said the wrong thing, the man immediately put on a smile. Then he turned and beckoned to his five companions. "Come on over! We're saved this time!"
The five burly men hurried over and gazed at the young man with pleading eyes. Their pitiful expressions didn't suit their imposing builds at all.
Ben, however, leisurely picked at his fingernails, as if he hadn't noticed them.
After a long silence, the leader suddenly caught on. He swiftly untied the purse at his waist and respectfully held it out. "This is a small token of appreciation from all of us. Please don't turn it down, Master Ben."
The young man accepted the purse with practiced ease and gave it a toss. "Much better. Would've saved us all some time if you'd done that earlier."
He pocketed the purse and gave his orders in a condescending tone. "Young Master Renard has instructed you to find Madam Tamara's missing pet within two days."
Find Madam Tamara's missing pet? The six burly men exchanged bewildered looks. The leader pondered for a moment, then asked curiously, "What does Young Master Renard want with it?"
"That's none of your concern. Just do as you're told." Ben looked as if he couldn't be bothered to explain, then warned them, "Do a good job and everything will be fine. Fail, and you'll be in a world of trouble."
That was what he said aloud, but inwardly he muttered, If I knew what the young master was up to, why would I need to use you lot?
Having given his instructions, Ben, the toady, weighed the purse in his hand and left through the gate, looking delighted. The burly men were left behind, scratching their heads.
After leaving the slums, several of the toadies ran into each other. Each had picked up a few valuables, and they exchanged knowing smiles.
Renard didn't care how much his underlings had managed to pocket from him or anyone else. His sole objective was to complete the missions issued by the system. He paid no attention to anything else.
In the castle's sitting room, he had just finished a fairly sumptuous lunch. Now he sat alone, drinking tea—the only pleasure he had these days.
It wasn't the bitter or plain tea he'd had back in the Huaxia Nation. This tea was made by drying vanilla, grinding it into flakes, adding honey, and mixing it with milk. In short, it was vanilla honey milk tea.
He had just swallowed a mouthful of the cloyingly sweet vanilla honey milk tea when someone came rushing into the castle.
A closer look revealed the tall, lanky young man who had taken on the first mission.
He looked utterly disheveled. His hair was a mess, the buttons at his collar and cuffs were missing, and he was covered in dirt, with several clear footprints stamped on his backside.
The lanky young man rushed in and threw himself down in front of Renard, bursting into tears. His performance was first-rate.
There was no need to guess: he had clearly run into trouble while carrying out the mission.
Renard blew the flecks of vanilla off the milk, took a couple of small sips, and asked with interest, "Go on. What happened?"
Seeing how calm he was, the lanky young man paused. Instead of reporting what had happened, he gave a thumbs-up and praised him. "Young Master, you're getting better and better at keeping your cool."
Renard's face darkened. He kicked at him. "Get to the point. Did you run into trouble?"
The toady nimbly dodged, then scrambled to his feet. As he massaged Renard's leg, he replied with a long face, "Young Master, you guessed right. We've run into quite a bit of trouble."
He then went into detail about what had happened, putting particular emphasis on the part where he'd been beaten up. "Mr. Wilson's Medal of Merit is in Old Walker's hands. I explained the situation to him, but he refused to hand it over. Then he started hitting me, and then..."
"Old Walker?" Renard ignored his toady's complaints and repeated the name, quickly searching his memories for anything associated with it.
Old Walker was something of a local celebrity in Saint Brieuc Fortress. In his youth, he had been a famous adventurer in the area, and his skill had reached the level of a High-level Swordsman.
Now old and frail, with skills far diminished, he could no longer make a living by risking his life. So he had used the reputation he'd earned in his youth to open a shop specializing in buying adventurers' goods.
It might have been only a small general store, but anything involving adventurers was bound to be complicated.
As the saying went, "The strong break the law with impunity."
If adventurers caused trouble on the estate, even Baron Hamilton would probably have a headache dealing with them.
Seeing that his young master wasn't paying him any attention, the lanky young man tactfully fell silent. But he kept up his pitiful expression, clearly waiting for a response.
In the past, Renard would certainly have flown into a rage, gathered his men, and stormed over there. Even if they didn't come out on top, he'd still have made them pay.
But to his surprise, after quite a while, Renard didn't get angry. Instead, he smiled—though there was something unsettling about it.
The lanky young man shivered involuntarily and thought, The young master seems even more unhinged since he was struck by lightning.
Renard kept smiling, his grin growing more and more sinister.
The toady's back grew damp with cold sweat. Every so often, he glanced toward the sofa. Renard's beaming face made him deeply uncomfortable, as if he were facing a cunning old fox.
He began to guess to himself, The young master must've been rattled by that bastard Gilbert. That's why he's become so brooding.
But this time he was wrong. Renard was simply delighted because he'd just thought of a brilliant way to complete the mission.
Selina, who was pouring tea nearby, shook her head slightly. She knew her young master had come up with another nasty trick.
After pondering for a long while, Renard took a deep breath and was about to speak when the toady volunteered, "Young Master, Old Walker dared to disrespect you. Let's gather our men and smash up his shop!"
Renard opened his mouth, at a loss for words. He sighed faintly, slumped back against the sofa, and beckoned the other man over.
The toady smiled and approached. A sharp slap was waiting for him.
"You brainless fool! You brainless fool!" Renard lightly rapped him twice on the head.
Then he lit two cigars, took a couple of puffs, and said, "We're all people of standing. Stop thinking about fighting and killing all day. Besides, look at Old Walker's strength, then look at ours. If we went over there, we'd just be giving him punching bags."
Before you continue