Task

Two days later, the sewer cleaning quest was finally complete. "Ding! Sewer cleaning quest complete. Reward: 100 dinar."

A crisp notification sound brought a smile to Renard's face. However, the quill in his hand didn't stop, dancing across the map with strokes that were sometimes round, sometimes straight, adding countless circles and lines of varying sizes and thicknesses to the originally clear map.

If Old Walker saw his meticulously drawn map in this state, he would probably vomit three liters of blood. After all, this was a detailed map he had spent ten days to create, and it was now so easily ruined.

Not long after the System notification, nine lackeys dragged their exhausted bodies back to the castle, each exuding a foul stench that forced the servants to keep their distance.

For the lackeys, the memories of the past few days were simply unbearable. Anyone would feel terrible after spending a week in a garbage heap and a sewer.

Raleigh, who was originally short and stout, had lost a full twenty pounds. He had been sloshing around in mud and filth day after day. Forget eating, he even threw up after drinking a sip of water.

The worst off was Fern, who was already a germaphobe. Now, he had even vomited all his bile dry.

Fortunately, the task the young master had assigned was successfully completed. Thinking of the potential rewards, everyone's minds began to buzz with anticipation.

They approached Renard with hopeful expressions, but the first words they heard were: "Get away from me, all of you."

After speaking, Renard couldn't help but gag twice, immediately covering his mouth and nose with a perfumed handkerchief. He glanced up at everyone before lowering his head to scribble on the map again.

His quill finally stopped at a corner of the map, where a red circle was drawn, marking a kobold camp.

Kobolds are the most numerous creatures in the Barren Land. They are small, only about a meter tall, with frail bodies and long, pointed tails like rats dragging behind them. They have dog-like faces, hence the name "kobold."

However, despite their large numbers, their individual strength is too weak and their intelligence too low for them to ever amount to anything.

They bully the weak and fear the strong, with capricious personalities. They particularly enjoy torturing their prey. Their living habits are similar to goblins and gnomes, but their intelligence is much higher than the latter. Larger kobold tribes even trade with other races.

However, only a small portion of kobold tribes engage in trade; the vast majority of kobolds still make a living by raiding and plundering. At least, this is the impression the residents of Saint Brieuc Fortress have.

According to the map's markings, there are over thirty kobold bandit groups lurking around Saint Brieuc Fortress. The largest scale has thousands of them, while the smallest has two to three hundred. Renard was targeting a kobold tribe with less than three hundred members.

"Kill quest: Kill 100 kobolds. Reward: 1 Potential. Completion: 0%."

After accepting the quest, Renard took a deep breath, almost passing out from the pungent smell. He looked up and asked with a frown, "Why haven't you guys showered yet? Get lost. There are more quests later."

More quests? The nine lackeys exchanged glances, then scattered like startled birds. They actually wanted to retort: "Go to hell with your quests."

Of course, they only dared to think it. If they had actually said it, their legs would surely be broken.

Half an hour later, the nine men reappeared before Renard. They had scrubbed themselves for a long time with soap and changed into clean clothes. Although a lingering fishy odor still clung to them, it was much better than before.

The group lined up according to a specific protocol, with Ben stepping forward nervously and asking, "Does the young master have any other instructions?"

His heart was pounding in his chest, fearing that the other party would assign another unreasonable task.

It wasn't just him; the other eight lackeys felt the same.

They prayed silently: Gods above, forgive our recklessness. Please make the young master revert to his old self, or strike him dead with lightning.

The gods apparently did not hear their prayers. Renard was still sitting comfortably on the sofa, tapping his fingers on the table. After a while, he asked, "Ben, you are the strongest among them. Tell me, how many kobolds can you handle?"

"Kobolds?" Ben's expression faltered slightly, unsure of what the young master was planning. He began to carefully choose his words.

Renard didn't interrupt, allowing the man to think seriously, as this was a matter of life and death.

After a long pause, Ben replied hesitantly, "At most sixty kobolds. More than that and I won't be able to manage."

In fact, Ben was being very conservative. With his Intermediate Swordsman strength, dealing with pitiful kobolds was as easy as slicing vegetables. Forget sixty, he could take down a hundred or eighty.

However, he didn't know what the other party was planning, so he left some room for error in his answer.

"Sixty?" Renard couldn't help but widen his mouth. What is showing off? This is it. Invisible showing off is the most deadly.

He then looked at the other eight lackeys, who, understanding his intent, gave their answers.

"Over thirty." "Around thirty." "Around thirty." "..."

Although they hadn't coordinated beforehand, everyone gave the lower end of their capabilities.

After answering, the nine men exchanged very subtle glances, a knowing smile passing between them.

Ben, with his Intermediate Swordsman strength, could handle sixty kobolds simultaneously. The others were Beginner Swordsmen. Although their strength varied slightly, the overall difference was not significant.

Renard counted on his fingers based on everyone's answers for a long time, then suddenly slapped his thigh and exclaimed excitedly, "The numbers are perfect!"

Upon hearing this, the corners of their eyes twitched. They didn't know what mischief their young master was planning now, but seeing him so happy, they could only force a smile to avoid displeasing him.

Then, they couldn't smile anymore. Renard extended his right hand and pointed gallantly at a spot on the map, saying, "I plan to lead you to exterminate this kobold tribe and restore peace to the residents of Saint Brieuc Fortress."

Silence. Unparalleled silence.

Even the servant wiping the cabinets showed an expression of disbelief. Was this something the arrogant second-generation brat, who only knew how to bully the weak at home, would say?

"What? Do you have any objections?" Renard's face darkened when no one spoke. He scanned the nine lackeys before him and asked sternly, "Or do you simply not wish to die for me, and everything you said before was a lie?"

Seeing his expression, Ben immediately mustered his spirits, raised his fist, and declared indignantly, "Exterminate the kobolds and restore peace to the residents of Saint Brieuc Fortress!"

The other eight lackeys hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly raised their hands and said listlessly, "Exterminate the kobolds and restore peace to the residents of Saint Brieuc Fortress."

A sparse oath echoed through the castle, lingering in the air.