Giving In

The lackeys were grateful, but they couldn't help wondering: 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 gave up. Whatever the reason, it was a good thing for lackeys like them.

Renard shifted his gaze from the two lackeys and immediately noticed an inconspicuous old man standing stiffly in a corner. He paused, then realized who it was. "Mr. Walker?"

The Walker he remembered looked quite different from the slightly overweight, balding old man before him, but he could still make out the man's youthful spirit in his features.

He couldn't help but reflect that time really was the finest whetstone. It reddened the cherries, greened the plantains, purpled the grapes, and softened the bananas.

Renard coughed twice, pushing the filthy thoughts out of his mind.

Old Walker, of course, had no idea what anyone else was thinking. He gave an equally awkward smile and replied respectfully, "I'm Old Walker, Young Master Renard. I didn't expect you to remember me."

Despite his considerable skill and the reputation he had made for himself among the adventurers of Saint Brieuc Fortress, and despite being able to ignore the lackeys under Renard, he was still an ant who could be crushed at any moment when facing a noble with real power.

Seeing that the other man was nervous, Renard tried to reassure him. "Don't be nervous. Make yourself at home."

Then he flopped down on the sofa and looked at him.

That was what Renard said, but Old Walker didn't dare relax at all. Like a new bride meeting her in-laws, he stood stiffly in the middle of the living room, unsure what to do with his hands and feet.

Even though he was curious about the castle's furnishings, he still didn't dare look around.

Renard was speechless. The lackeys had said this old man was one of the finest adventurers around, skilled and famous. So why did he seem like a man who'd been bullied all his life?

The reason was simple. Renard was a young man from the modern era, with little sense of class distinctions. The other man, however, had grown up in a medieval world where class divisions were stark. From birth, he'd been branded with the instincts to obey and submit.

To people like him, the lord was the master of their fate. No matter how strong they were, nothing could change that. Only if they became nobles someday would the innate sense of inferiority finally disappear.

Renard didn't dwell on it. The most important thing now was to get the medal and complete the task.

He took out two cigars and handed one to Old Walker, then got straight to the point. "Where's the medal?"

Old Walker hurriedly caught the cigar. With his skills, he could have caught it easily, but his excessive nervousness made him clumsy.

He didn't dare smoke in the lord's castle, so he tucked the cigar into his breast pocket and replied with utmost reverence, "I've brought the medal."

As he spoke, he took a gleaming gold medal from his other pocket. His expression was conflicted, but he didn't hesitate to hold it out respectfully.

Renard didn't take it. Instead, he tilted his head toward the lackey.

Tommy understood and stepped forward to take the medal. He examined it for a long while, then confirmed, "That's right. It's Mr. Wilson's family heirloom. I've seen him take it out to show off."

Only then did Renard reach out and take it. He bounced it in his palm and felt that it weighed more than half a pound.

He was secretly astonished. No wonder Old Walker had been tempted to take the thing. In the era he came from, the medal could have sold for at least eighty or ninety thousand yuan.

As he handed over the Medal of Merit, Old Walker reluctantly offered up a money pouch as well.

With a cigar between his teeth and a smile on his face, Renard looked him over and asked, "What's this for?"

Old Walker was smiling too, though his smile was stiff. "I beat Mr. Tommy the other day over the medal. This is my apology."

"An apology?" Renard took the pouch and weighed it in his hand. A look of disdain curled his lips.

He tossed the pouch back to Old Walker and exhaled a cloud of smoke with an expression of enjoyment. "Do you think I can't afford my subordinate's medical expenses?"

The question left everyone around them stunned. Old Walker was at a loss too. He'd heard from Tommy that Renard loved money more than anything, so why had he suddenly changed his tune today?

Is he trying to fool me? That makes no sense. Does he think it's too little?

At the thought, Old Walker couldn't help shuddering. There were eighty silver coins in the pouch, nearly half a year's savings from backbreaking work. If even that wasn't enough to tempt Renard, how much would he have to pay next?

The two lackeys also couldn't understand what Renard was up to. Ben clearly remembered that their young master had swindled even poor old Madam Tamara for money. Why had he suddenly done a complete about-face?

There's definitely a scheme, Selina thought.

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

"What is it?" Old Walker felt a flicker of wariness. It was unexpected that this wastrel would ask him for help. He was probably up to no good!

"You don't need to be so nervous. It's nothing difficult." Renard elegantly tapped off some ash, thought for a moment, then asked, "I hear you're the best adventurer in Saint Brieuc Fortress?"

At the words "the best," Old Walker's weathered face flushed slightly. But he quickly composed himself, his expression taking on a hint of pride. "I wouldn't say the best. I'm just a little well-known."

Renard tilted his head, thinking. "Is that modesty?"

Old Walker gave a dry laugh and modestly replied, "It's all thanks to the competition."

"Cough, cough!" Renard choked on the smoke and quickly stubbed out his cigar. "Are you familiar with the area around Saint Brieuc Fortress?"

"Familiar? I've been an adventurer for forty years—forty whole years." Old Walker sighed wistfully. He wasn't much of a talker, but once he started recounting his adventures, he had plenty to say.

He thumped his chest and declared, "I wouldn't dare boast about much else, but I've traveled all over the Barren Land, and even the Southern Great Wilderness. I've been into the dangerous Ambrisset Mountains dozens of times."

The more he talked, the more animated he became, with a bellyful of thrilling stories just waiting to be told.

Under normal circumstances, Renard would have been very interested in hearing about his exciting adventures. But he had something important to do now and couldn't waste time.

He raised a hand to stop him and snapped his fingers. "Excellent. I want you to draw me a map showing the distribution of monsters within ten kilometers of Saint Brieuc Fortress. And if you can find me a guide, even better."

Everyone looked confused. Selina gazed at him with wide, watery eyes and asked, "What does Young Master want a map for?"

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