Half-elf Notebook

Chapter 162 Attack

East of Thunderstone, 30 miles away.

A border village is experiencing a rare bustle.

A few scattered farmers gathered around a few wandering merchants and their carts.

As one of the villages located on the bustling trade route between Blackstone Fortress and other cities

——In the past, caravans of all sizes, horse-drawn carriages and carts of wandering merchants would gallop past the not-so-wide yellow mud ground beside the village.

Bringing trade and goods to the fortress where tens of thousands of soldiers and their relatives were stationed.

From time to time, they would gather around the villages along the route, buy crops from the villagers, and sell their stock at low prices.

This kind of scene, which was very common in the past, is now rare.

Since the fall of the fortress, the Chamber of Commerce has cancelled its convoy plans for these trade routes.

For them, there is no profit at all here as they have lost their sales channels and orcs are rampant.

Only a few wandering merchants would travel back and forth on these almost abandoned trade routes because of the low purchase prices of wheat, corn and other commodities.

But this year there seem to be more such businessmen.

A dozen farmers rushed forward, holding sacks containing samples of their harvested crops.

The elderly village chief and his children tried hard to maintain order and prevent it from turning into a physical conflict.

They don't know the situation in nearby cities, let alone the prices of wheat and corn this year.

——Even the young people who came to the city to herd livestock from the village had been there for a year or so.

The merchant with the cart full of goods was beginning to have a lively conversation with the farmer who had already reached a deal. The glass in his hand was filled with light brown, low-quality beer.

This was the item he traded from a farmer.

The wheat used was left over from last harvest, and the taste was just so-so.

Farmers brew them mostly to reward themselves or to find some excitement in their boring lives.

He clinked his glasses with the other two farmers, took a big sip, and feeling the unique spiciness of alcohol and the bitterness of the drink, he said:

"You really don't know how difficult business is this year. Goddess, a seventh-level monster has appeared in the Earldom of Kersroy."

"Thanks to him, several caravans passing through the outer kingdom's main roads of the Monster Forest were attacked by unusually active monsters. Dozens of people will never see their lovely gold coins and silver coins stored in the safe of the Chamber of Commerce again."

An old farmer next to him, who was nearly 50 years old and had rough, light-wheat-red skin, was quite disdainful:

"Come on, the three of you only have your mouths. No matter how horrible your words are, you can still drink some beer, gnaw on some dried meat, and eat enough bread to fill your stomach, right?"

"We are different."

The old farmer pulled at his patched clothes, then glanced at the merchant, who was wearing an old, thick linen coat with only a few inconspicuous patches:

"The harvest was terrible this year because of the frost."

The old farmer snorted coldly and continued:

"I don't know many words, and I've never seen the world, but I know the harvest from the fields. If it weren't for the agricultural tax reduction in the frontline area mentioned by those soldiers, at least half of the people in this village would have to borrow money from your vampire-like greedy Chamber of Commerce this year!"

"Other villages are not much better, and what is your purchase price?"

"Wheat is four groats and seven coins a pound, and corn is four groats a pound. The price per pound is only a little more than two groats more than in previous years!"

"Don't say that, Mr. Bushi. Didn't I share this bottle of wine with you?"

The businessman filled the old farmer's glass and said with a smile.

A mature businessman will never allow the relationship between himself and his customers to become rigid.

This is also one of the important reasons why he is still active in this industry.

A bottle of beer does not contain much quantity; it is just one of the bottles dispensed from a jar.

The businessman in the old coat didn't drink much, and most of the wine went into the stomachs of the old farmer and another strong farmer.

He would be leaving the village soon, and the remaining wine in the jars was prepared for old customers from subsequent villages.

The merchants feel that their income and supply for this year and next year are secured.

Suddenly, a sharp scream broke the tranquility of the village.

"Orcs! Orcs!"

A farmer stumbled into the village street, his face showing a look of panic that almost made him lose his mind.

Some idle farmers were indeed attracted by his behavior.

But soon something even more amazing than him appeared before everyone's eyes.

A wooden spear instantly passed through the panicked farmer and pierced into the left chest and shoulder of the merchant who was still busy on his cart.

The spears were like large crossbows, and the arrows shot out directly penetrated the human body and nailed the merchants to the backs of the horses pulling the carts.

"Ahhhhh!!!"

"hiss!"

The merchant's heart-wrenching screams and the horse's neighing seemed to be the prelude to something. The "audience" who had been confused just now seemed to have just woken up from a dream.

They ran and scattered in all directions, like birds trying to avoid flying arrows.

Subconsciously stay away from this dangerous place.

The seriously injured horse used up its last bit of strength to pull the cart, and madly crashed into the farmers who were unable to dodge and the stuck cart in front of it.

The businessman is not dead.

It would be better to say that his pitiful life will not come to an end in a short time.

The spear just went right through his chest below the armpit and part of his lung.

This is by no means a lucky thing.

The tumbling of the horse would give the dying man the most painful punishment.

The wooden spear handle, as thick as the boy's wrist, stirred his wound, expanding the hole that was just big enough for a spear to pass through.

The merchant's clothes were quickly stained red with blood, while more blood flowed along the wooden handle, over the horse's back, mixed with the blood of the livestock, and flowed to the ground.

The severe pain made his nose and tears flow, and the instinct for survival prompted him to hold on to the wooden spear on his left chest tightly, trying to break free.

But for him, with half of his body hanging in the air, this made him feel so powerless and desperate.

The businessmen in their well-worn overcoats also noticed the chaos.

His half-drunk head suddenly cleared up, and he turned to look towards the village. At the same time, he grabbed the horse reins on the seat with one hand.

He first saw the fleeing crowd, and then his injured colleagues.

Finally, his gaze fell on the end of the village street, a hundred meters outside the village, and dozens of figures on the country roads and wheat fields.

Each of them was like a standing brown bear, standing there like a low city wall.

However, in the eyes of businessmen, they are more like demons and evil spirits walking out of the holy hell.

"Old Busy! Percy! Get in the car! Quick!"

The businessman shouted urgently to the two people beside him who were under the car.

But the next second, in his field of vision, a row of arrows had already broken away from the orcs and soared into the air...