Bowing Down

The henchmen were grateful, but also somewhat confused. Their young master had always been stingy, so why had he become so generous after being struck by lightning?

They thought about it for a long time but couldn't figure it out, so they stopped thinking about it. After all, it was a good thing for them, the henchmen.

Renard's gaze shifted away from the two henchmen and immediately noticed a nervous old man standing in an inconspicuous corner. He was stunned, then reacted, "Mr. Walker?"

Although the Walker in his memory was very different from the slightly overweight, balding old man before him, he could still see the youthful vigor in the man's brows.

He couldn't help but sigh, Time truly is the best whetstone, turning cherries red, plantains green, grapes purple, and bananas soft.

Renard coughed twice, casting aside the lewd thoughts in his mind.

Old Walker naturally had no idea what others were thinking. He also gave an awkward smile and replied respectfully, "I am Old Walker. Young Master Renard, I didn't expect you to still remember me."

Even though his strength was decent, and he had made a name for himself in the adventurer circles of Saint Brieuc Fortress, and he could ignore the henchmen under Renard, when facing a powerful nobleman, he was still an ant that could be crushed at any moment.

Seeing that the other party was a bit nervous, Renard said to comfort him, "Don't be nervous, make yourself at home."

Then he himself fell back straight onto the sofa, his gaze fixed on the other man.

Though Renard said that, Old Walker didn't dare to be presumptuous. Like a young bride meeting her in-laws for the first time, he stood stiffly in the middle of the living room, unsure of where to put his hands and feet.

Even though he was very curious about the castle's arrangement, he still didn't dare to look around rashly.

Renard was speechless. The henchmen said this old man was a top-tier adventurer, strong and famous. Now, he looked like a bullied pushover.

The reason was simple: he was a young man living in a new era with little concept of class, while the other had grown up in a medieval society with distinct class divisions. From birth, his heart had been branded with the marks of obedience and submission.

To them, the lord was the master who decided their fate. No matter how strong they were, they couldn't change that, unless they too could become nobles one day. Only then would this innate humility be completely eliminated.

Renard didn't dwell on this matter. The most important thing now was to get the medal and complete the mission.

He took out two cigars, offered one to Old Walker, and then got straight to the point: "Where is the medal?"

Old Walker hastily caught the cigar. In reality, with his agility, he could have caught it with extreme ease, but due to his excessive nervousness, his hands and feet seemed very clumsy.

He didn't dare to smoke in the lord's castle, so he put the cigar in his coat pocket and replied devoutly, "I've brought the medal."

As he spoke, he took out a shining golden medal from another pocket. His expression was a little strained, but his movements were continuous as he respectfully handed it over.

Renard didn't take it. Instead, he tilted his head and gestured to his henchmen.

Tommy, understanding immediately, stepped forward and took the medal. He looked at it for a long time before confirming, "That's right, it's Mr. Wilson's family heirloom medal. I saw him show it off once."

Only then did Renard reach out and take it. He weighed it in his hand, feeling it was over half a pound.

He was secretly surprised. No wonder Old Walker had been bewitched into taking this thing. If it were in his own era, this medal would have sold for at least eighty or ninety thousand yuan.

Along with the Medal of Merit, Old Walker reluctantly handed over a money bag.

Renard, with a cigar in his mouth, looked at him with a smile and asked, "What is the meaning of this?"

Old Walker was also smiling, but his smile was a little stiff. "Because of the medal, I hit Mr. Tommy the other day. This is my apology."

"An apology?" Renard took the money bag and weighed it. The corners of his mouth curled into a look of disdain.

He threw the money bag back to Old Walker and put on an expression of enjoyment as he smoked, "Do I look like someone who can't afford his subordinate's medical expenses?"

This question stunned everyone around. Old Walker's head also felt a bit fuzzy. He had learned from Tommy the henchman that his young master loved money the most. Why had he suddenly changed his tune today?

Was he trying to trick him? There was no reason for that! Was it because the money wasn't enough?

Thinking of this, Old Walker couldn't help but shiver. The money bag contained eighty silver coins, which he had painstakingly saved for nearly half a year. If even this couldn't move him, how much would he have to pay next?

The two henchmen also couldn't understand Renard's intentions. They clearly remembered that their young master had even swindled Madam Tamara, that pitiful old woman, for money. How could he have made a complete 180-degree turn today?

There must be a conspiracy, Selina thought.

Renard didn't care what others thought. He said to Old Walker kindly, "I don't want the money, but you have to do something for me."

"What is it?" Old Walker felt a hint of vigilance. It was quite unexpected that this fop would ask him for help. He suspected ill intentions!

"You don't need to be too nervous, it's not a difficult task." Renard elegantly flicked the ash from his cigar, pondered for a moment, and asked, "I heard people say you are the most skilled adventurer in Saint Brieuc Fortress?"

Hearing the words "most skilled," Old Walker's old face blushed slightly, but he quickly became serious, showing a slightly proud expression. "I can't say I'm skilled, just a little famous."

Renard tilted his head in thought, "Is this considered modesty?"

Old Walker gave a dry chuckle and said modestly, "It's all thanks to the others in the same profession."

"Cough cough!" Renard choked, quickly extinguishing his cigar and asking, "Are you very familiar with the area around Saint Brieuc Fortress?"

"More than familiar. I've been an adventurer for forty years now, a full forty years." Old Walker's expression was wistful. He wasn't a talkative person, but when it came to his adventuring career, he became quite talkative.

He patted his chest and guaranteed, "I wouldn't dare say anything else, but I've set foot in the entire Barren Land, even the Great Southern Wilderness. I've even entered the dangerous Ambrisset Mountains dozens of times."

Speaking of this, he became even more animated, with a mind full of exciting stories to tell.

Normally, Renard would have been very interested in hearing about his exciting adventures, but he had important matters to attend to now and couldn't waste time.

He gestured for the other man to stop and snapped his fingers, "Excellent. I want you to draw me a map of monster distribution within a ten-kilometer radius of Saint Brieuc Fortress. Of course, it would be even better if you could find me a guide."

Everyone looked bewildered. Selina asked with her big, watery eyes, "Why does young master want a map?"

Renard smiled mysteriously, "To go on an adventure, of course."