Wilderness Manor (Upper)

After clearing the battlefield, Renard rode his fine horse around the area twice to confirm no valuable items were left behind before pulling the reins again and heading northwest.

While galloping, he took the opportunity to open the System's quest interface and glanced at it. The quest to slaughter goblins was only 22% complete.

Renard's lips twitched, and his good mood vanished instantly.

He increased the speed of his whip, catching up to a few goblins mid-way and cutting them down with a swing. "Twenty-three percent, twenty-four percent..."

The fine horse galloped on. Even with the slight delay, he still reached his destination by noon.

Looking around, the area was deserted. There were only a few inns built with a mix of old wooden planks and stones for passing merchants and travelers to rest. The inns looked somewhat dilapidated, estimated to be decades old.

This place was only three to five li from the Ambrisset Mountains, practically at its foothills. To make a living in such a dangerous location, the innkeeper's strength must be considerable.

Indeed, the Sworded Lord Howard Garden was a very famous bounty hunter in the Barren Land, having earned numerous honorary titles such as "Blue Spider Hunter," "Ogre Hunter," "Troll Hunter," and "Scythe Demon Hunter."

Over twenty years ago, when the Demon Disaster broke out, he single-handedly killed dozens of Demon Slayer Archers, earning the favor of the Kingdom Military Department. Later, due to his outstanding military achievements, he was enfeoffed as a Sworded Lord.

Demon Slayer Archers were extremely brutal demons from the Abyss, known for their cunning and speed. During the Demon Disaster, many lords died from their assassinations.

To hunt a Demon Slayer Archer, one needed at least the strength of a Battle Qi warrior, with highly refined Martial Arts, and even mastery of extraordinary Divine Archery Skills.

As for someone who could hunt dozens of Demon Slayer Archers, their strength would be enough to rank within the top one hundred in the Barren Land.

However, even the strongest warriors have their unlucky days. During a mission to clear out a minor demon nest, Sir Howard unfortunately encountered several Scythe Demons. A fierce battle ensued, and the opponent managed to escape with their life by sacrificing a limb.

Having lost his right sword-wielding arm, his strength greatly diminished, forcing him to retire from the military and withdraw from the bounty hunter circles.

Sir Howard returned to his hometown, Saint Brieuc Fortress, and used his life's savings to establish this inn, taking in apprentices to teach them Martial Arts, enjoying a simple and free life.

Looking back at his life, he had the valor to die on the battlefield for his country, as well as the tragic resolve of not needing his body to be returned home in a shroud.

Renard thought silently and, in the blink of an eye, arrived at the inn's entrance.

Wilderness Manor? The dilapidated sign vaguely showed these words, and it was indeed fitting.

He handed the reins of his horse to a servant and strode into the inn, immediately being hit by a mixed smell of decay and cheap tobacco and alcohol.

Looking up, the inn was not large. The front hall had only eight tables, but there were quite a few customers, around fifty to sixty people. They maintained a safe distance from each other, drinking while remaining on guard.

This was the last resting place before entering the Ambrisset Mountains. Adventurers about to enter the mountains or those who had just emerged would choose to numb their nerves with alcohol here.

Besides adventurers, there was no shortage of merchants in the inn, but they were all small-time traders who came to purchase goods from adventurers and resell them in other cities, making a profit of forty to fifty percent.

Here, very few people recognized Renard. After all, adventurers lived day by day, who would bother caring about others?

However, nothing is absolute. Not long after he entered, someone recognized him. "Renard, you're here."

The speaker was a thin middle-aged man, estimated to be around fifty to sixty years old, with a weathered face and a hint of honesty. He held a rag and a tray, dressed as a typical inn servant.

But anyone who treated him as a mere inn servant would likely suffer greatly. Renard bowed slightly and greeted him with a somewhat respectful tone, "Good afternoon, Mr. Eckert."

Eckert Winter, a Professional Thief, a close friend of Sir Howard, and an advanced warrior.

Thieves were not petty thieves or robbers but professionals similar to swordsmen or archers, often tasked with scouting terrain and gathering intelligence during adventures. Simply put, they were scouts.

"Came to see Howard? What a coincidence." Eckert put down the tray, wiped his hands on his rough clothes, and reminded him with great kindness, "There's joyous news today, but he's not happy. Be mindful of what you say."

Joyous news? Renard pondered for a moment, a helpless smile appearing on his face. "Lady Isa had another lovely little girl?"

"Yes, the fourth one," Eckert took a deep breath and said with certainty, "He simply doesn't have the fate to have a son."

Renard almost burst out laughing and couldn't help but tease, "If one of them can capture the heart of some Kingdom Aristocrat with her beauty, then Teacher Howard can leave this godforsaken Barren Land."

Of course, this was just teasing; it was impossible for it to become reality.

Those arrogant individuals would never come to this remote place. Even if they did, they wouldn't fancy a country bumpkin. The story of a prince and Cinderella never existed.

Even if, by some chance, a prominent figure took a liking to Sir Howard's daughter, she would likely only end up as a mistress. Given the teacher's temper and disposition, he would certainly not tolerate such humiliation.

As he had business to attend to, the two chatted for a while, and Renard took his leave, heading towards the backyard.

The inn's backyard was very messy, filled with the smell of horse manure. The servants were extremely busy, but as he passed, they would nervously bow their heads and greet him, no matter how busy they were. This showed how deeply ingrained the class system was in the Kingdom of Arthur.

Renard ignored them because he feared he would vomit his breakfast if he opened his mouth. The servants, on the other hand, naturally assumed this was the proper demeanor of a nobleman.

He quickly walked through the messy backyard. After putting enough distance between them, he took a deep breath.

Scum Renard had been pampered since childhood and rarely encountered such places. Likewise, when homebody Renard was at home, he kept his house very clean and couldn't stand such disgusting smells.

According to Scum Renard's memories, he passed through the narrow corridor between two walls and saw a spacious training ground.

It was called a training ground, but it was essentially a compacted dirt surface surrounded by a simple wooden fence. In front was a stone stump where Sir Howard usually sat, drinking tea and supervising the apprentices' training.

If the occasion happened to be one of his good moods, he would also impart exquisite combat techniques to the apprentices. Of course, most of it was verbal instruction, as he was no longer the spirited bounty hunter he once was.

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