Two days later, Charles was waiting at the door of the empty inn, fully geared.

　　A familiar, pre-war thrill coursed through him, making his blood boil.

　　Soon, their target appeared. After a brief exchange, they walked together toward Beaconlin Forest. Laku glanced back, as if signaling other companions.

　　Beaconlin Forest lay north of Lelet Forest. Its terrain, topography, and residents were similar, except for three additional human camps. Each camp had two watchtowers, and two teams of guards patrolled the surrounding area.

　　Sairye Rigel’s patrol troops also departed from here, but his camp was usually empty, with soldiers returning only during handovers and sleeping in mobile tents the rest of the time.

　　Charles had been here before and knew which paths to take to avoid trouble.

　　Half a day into their journey, Laku grew impatient.

　　“Friend, where are you taking me?” he asked.

　　A mole pup suddenly jumped onto Charles’ feet. He scooped it up.

　　“Little guy, how did you come here?”

　　The mole pup shivered, as if trying to say something.

　　“Oh… I see…” Charles put it gently back on the ground.

　　Laku tilted his head, puzzled. “What did the little guy say?”

　　“It said it hid some corn behind a small stone, but later couldn’t find it.”

　　Laku froze. “Who the hell believes you can talk to moles… Wait, are you telling me we’re lost? We’re lost?!”

　　“Don’t panic, buddy. Cheer up! I’m a hunter. A few extra days won’t starve us. Just be prepared to pay for the food.”

　　“You bad guy! No wonder you have no friends. You’ve got a terrible personality.”

　　Charles recalled that ever since the war ended, he hadn’t made a single friend.

　　“It doesn’t matter, does it?” he muttered to himself.

　　Following the mole’s tip, they reached an eagle’s nest as night fell. The nest perched atop a dead tree, surrounded by withered bushes.

　　“This is it.”

　　Laku leaned against a nearby boulder, gasping.

　　“Gray Hunter, are you sure?”

　　“Of course. I caught this harpy right here once, when she was grooming her feathers.”

　　“Hold on… harpies aren’t eagles, and they don’t live in nests. Are you kidding me?”

　　“Shh… take a look,” Charles said.

　　Laku followed his finger and saw two adult gray-winged eagles hovering over the nest, scanning for danger.

　　Soon, the eagles landed on nearby dead branches, calling sharply to each other.

　　“Do these eagles always appear in pairs? And what are they saying? Do you understand?” Laku asked, full of doubt.

　　“Shut up, Greenie. We just need to wait,” Charles replied calmly.

　　“Okay… I trust you.”

　　As the sun set and the ringed moon rose, moonlight bathed the ground in silver.

　　A dark figure appeared.

　　A humanoid creature with feathers circled the nest before settling on the thickest branch.

　　The two gray-winged eagles greeted her like old friends, affectionately rubbing their necks against her wings.

　　Charles knew immediately—it was Periya. Only members of the Poison Feather Society given prior notice would come here.

　　He handed a rope to Laku.

　　“Hey, buddy. This is what you’re looking for. It’s up to you now.”

　　“I… I’m not a hunter,” Laku stammered.

　　“Okay, ten gold coins. You won’t lose money.”

　　“Wait… ten? My stomach hurts…”

　　“You’re not going to run away, are you?”

　　“Thirty minutes… no, twenty minutes. I’ll be right back.”

　　Laku clutched his stomach, pretending to back away, then disappeared into the nearby forest.

　　Excitement surged through him. Just seeing the harpy meant the mission would be complete. Whether she was truly a member of the Poison Feather Society didn’t matter.

　　“Sss… sss…”

　　He spat out a signal.

　　Behind a fruit tree, Cerei Reuthagor and his men emerged into the moonlight.

　　“Good job, Lizard.”

　　“Mr. Cerei, this proves our lizard people have nothing to do with the Poison Feather Society, right?”

　　“It only proves that the lizards and the harpies outside aren’t related.”

　　“Are you sure the harpy outside is a member of the Poison Feather Society?”

　　“Humanoids with long feathers are suspicious enough. Alright, your mission is complete. The remaining ten gold coins will be given later. Warriors, move out.”

　　“General, we’ve been waiting impatiently,” several soldiers echoed.

　　Minutes later, Charles heard rustling behind the trees. A human general and ten fully armed soldiers stepped into view.

　　“The lizard over there—step back,” Cerei Reuthagor barked, drawing his magic sword with a familiar, disdainful tone.

　　“General Cerei, why are you here? Trying on feathers too?”

　　“I’m not interested in orcs.” He tossed two gold coins into Charles’ hands. “Here’s your guide fee—enough for fried green frogs for a month.”

　　At his command, ten soldiers fired arrows toward the female harpy perched on the dead tree.

　　Periya was ready. She drew her short knife and immediately transmuted her weapon and body.

　　Even General Cerei and his soldiers were startled. No one expected a humanoid capable of magic in this place.

　　They were now convinced—she was a member of the Poison Feather Society.

　　“Shoot arrows! Don’t give her a chance to get close!”

　　The soldiers fired into the empty night sky, arrows whistling past.

　　Laku danced with joy. “See, Grayhunter? Looks like we can get more gold coins!”

　　Charles gripped the coins tightly, feeling a pang of distress. Sanpo’s betrayal had been motivated by greed—if misunderstood, he’d be branded a traitor like Sanpo.

　　“Was this your plan from the start?”

　　“Of course. Watch—this harpy isn’t a match for Mr. Cerei, is she?”

　　“Mr. Cerei? Are you two close?”

　　“We worked together this time. Friends for now. Hunter, don’t miss the opportunity.”

　　“Make friends with humans?”

　　“Is that bad? Look at what you have in your hand—shiny gold coins. Who wouldn’t like them?”

　　Charles resisted the urge.

　　“It’s too dangerous here. I’m afraid of getting accidentally hurt. What about you?”

　　“Thanks for reminding me. Let’s go inside.”

　　After walking a dozen minutes into the forest, Charles slowed down, one hand behind his back, channeling the Black Blade magic.

　　The target laughed, describing a beautiful future, his voice bright and carefree. Charles felt nothing but nausea, worse than drinking bear milk ten times over.

　　When the target turned, the black dagger, blending with the darkness, plunged into his heart. In an instant, Charles drew his steel sword and beheaded him with incredible speed.

　　As the head fell, its twisted tongue flopped onto the ground. Charles wiped the blood from his body and kicked the corpse to the ground on its knees.

　　“Confess your guilt. Getting down on the ground is the best way.”