The First Wave of Casualties

The following days in Buena Village were eerily calm.

What surprised Lynch the most was the change in Kuma.

Ever since her failed attempt to skip class and being dragged back by Felsy, the hyperactive beast-eared girl—who used to be able to do pull-ups on the ceiling beams—had undergone a complete personality shift.

Every day after breakfast, she would obediently take a small stool and sit at her desk, clutching a sheet of paper covered in words. She swayed her head as she memorized them.

Loyalty... Obedience... Silence...

She was reciting with such intensity and focus that there was even a hint of... tragic determination, as if she were facing certain death.

This child has finally grown up.

Lynch stood outside the window, looking at the small figure inside. He felt the gratification of an old father. It seems Felsy's talk with her worked wonders. As expected, women communicate better with each other. Felsy might look cold, but she is actually quite good with kids.

He had no idea that at this moment, Kuma’s ears were plugged with the noise-canceling earplugs Felsy had gifted her, accompanied by a mental transmission: If you don't memorize these fifty words, you'll be hanging outside in the wind tonight.

Under the life-threatening pressure of a top-tier predator, let alone learning to read, Kuma would have mastered advanced calculus within a week.

...

Besides Kuma’s reformation, another piece of good news was Felsy’s health.

As the temperature dropped, the first light dusting of snow covered the distant mountains.

A month ago, Felsy would have been shivering under a thick quilt.

But this year, she still wore her relatively thin dress and could even stand in the cold wind helping Lynch hang the freshly washed bedsheets.

Your hands are still warm.

That evening, while performing his routine God-level Massage Technique, Lynch held Felsy’s palm and nodded with satisfaction. It seems the black chicken soup wasn't in vain.

On the system panel, the progress bar for the advancement task had quietly climbed to 0.99%.

Just one step away.

It should happen in the next day or two, Lynch thought expectantly.

Once it hit 1%, it wouldn't just mean Felsy’s physical condition had reached the baseline for a normal person; it meant he would advance to Rank 2, gaining more abundant mana to deal with unknown dangers.

After all, danger always follows the cold.

The supplies provided by the Church were truly a godsend.

The flour and cotton clothes were distributed fairly to every household by the village chief, bringing a touch of warmth to the originally impoverished winter.

Whenever the villagers mentioned the new Bishop, they would give a thumbs-up and praise him as a Living Saint.

However, supplies could fend off the cold, but they couldn't fend off hungry beasts.

Quick! Go find Lynch!

A series of urgent shouts broke the afternoon silence.

Lynch had just finished storing the last batch of medicinal herbs when he saw several villagers rushing into the yard with two stretchers.

What happened? Lynch immediately went to meet them.

Two young hunters lay on the stretchers, covered in blood and pale-faced.

One had a large chunk of flesh torn from his calf, exposing the bone. The other had several terrifying puncture wounds on his shoulder, and the skin around the wounds was tinged with an eerie greenish-black hue.

“It’s a magic beast... cough... it’s a magic beast!”

The old hunter who had brought them in was panting heavily, his face pale with terror. “We were patrolling the northern defense line when those things suddenly lunged out... they looked like weasels, but they were too fast! We couldn’t even draw our bows before Zhuzi and Qiangzi were bitten!”

“Wind-Ripping Weasels?”

Lynch understood immediately.

They were Rank 2 magic beasts, infamous for their incredible speed and venomous fangs. Usually, such creatures stayed deep within the mountains, only appearing near human settlements during the peak of a beast tide.

But winter had only just begun.

“Don’t panic. Get them inside and onto the beds in the side room!”

Lynch regained his composure quickly and began directing the crowd. He ran back to the pharmacy and retrieved the hemostatic powder and antidotes he had prepared earlier—concoctions derived from the mutated Buena No. 1.

He set to work cleaning the wounds, debriding the necrotic flesh, applying the medicine, and bandaging the injuries.

Lynch’s movements were as smooth as flowing water. While he wasn’t a professional surgeon, he had become quite adept at treating such trauma.

“Argh!!”

As the purple powder was sprinkled onto the wounds, the injured hunters let out agonizing screams. However, almost immediately, the blood that had been gushing out stopped in its tracks, and the dark, greenish-black venom was forced out, flowing away as foul, black blood.

“It’s a miracle medicine...” the surrounding villagers whispered, staring in wide-eyed shock.

“Alright, they’re out of danger.”

Half an hour later, Lynch wiped the blood from his hands and let out a long sigh of relief. “Now they just need to rest for half a month. Keep the wounds dry, and they’ll recover.”

After seeing off the grateful villagers, Lynch stood in the courtyard, staring at the crude wooden fence surrounding the village with a deep frown.

Buena Village’s defenses were essentially just a ring of two-meter-high wooden stakes and a few makeshift watchtowers.

It was enough to keep out ordinary wolves, but against magic beasts with elemental attributes, it was no better than wet paper.

Today, it was only two Wind-Ripping Weasels, and two men were already injured.

What would happen if a pack of Shadow Wolves arrived next, or even that big fellow?

Could he really save everyone with just the medicine in his hands?

“No, I have to find a way to strengthen the defenses.”

Lynch was a pragmatist. He had no desire to be a savior, but he lived in this village. If the village was overrun, his peaceful life would be over.

“I wonder if there are any alchemical items or specific blueprints for defenses...”

Lynch’s thoughts turned to the Adventurers' Guild.

That was the place where information flowed most freely. Perhaps he could find news about simple fortifications or buy some secondhand defense scrolls.

After giving Felsy a quick heads-up, Lynch threw on a thick cloak and walked toward the tavern at the village entrance.

Even though it was afternoon, the tavern was packed.

Most of the patrons were hunters and miners who couldn't work because of the freezing weather, huddled around the hearth to stay warm and swap stories.

As soon as Lynch stepped inside, he was greeted by the pungent odor of cheap tobacco.

He found a seat in a corner and ordered a mug of hot apple cider, his eyes scanning the room.

He didn't see the familiar dwarf, old Barton; he was likely still putting in extra hours at the mine.

However, Lynch's attention was quickly drawn to a stranger’s back at the bar.

It was a tall man clad in heavily worn leather armor, with a greatsword wrapped in tattered cloth strapped to his back.

Even looking only at his back, Lynch could sense a coldness about the man that wouldn't thaw even in the warmth of the tavern. It wasn't the chill of the weather, but a murderous aura born from years of living on a razor's edge.

A true veteran adventurer.

As if sensing Lynch’s gaze, the man turned around.

A hideous scar ran across his left cheek, stretching from the corner of his eye down to his chin, marring what would have otherwise been a resolute face.

"What are you looking at? Never seen a living soul before?"

The man’s voice was raspy, sounding as though it had been ground against sandpaper.

Lynch wasn't intimidated. Instead, he approached with his glass in hand, a friendly smile on his face.

"My apologies, I didn’t mean to offend. I just noticed you're a new face in town, and with gear as fine as yours, I figured you must be a veteran adventurer from the outside world."

"I'm Lynch, the village apothecary. Let me buy you this drink. How about we be friends?"

The man glanced at Lynch, then down at the cup of warm wine pushed toward him, and his tensed muscles relaxed ever so slightly.