Chapter 2: The Blunt Head Tavern

I have mentioned that we are strangers to Jianhe Port

When that hand, tightly wrapped in soft black lambskin, gently touched the priest's throat, she merely revealed a languid smile. She was so young, having never been rejected by anyone, especially since today belonged to Froh, a day when men and women could indulge in reckless drinking and feasting without restraint. She lifted her head, awaiting more caresses and squeezes, hoping that this hand would be strong enough, as she enjoyed being treated roughly. Moreover, today belonged to Froh, a day when men and women could indulge in reckless drinking and feasting without restraint. She lifted her head, awaiting more caresses and squeezes, hoping that this hand would be strong enough, as she enjoyed being treated roughly.

The tavern owner stood at the entrance of the alley behind the tavern, draped in a long waterproof cloak made from whale gut, as if there were a layer of air separating him from the rain. He carefully scrutinized the face of the person who had fallen from the window; it was still a child, with facial hair so fine it resembled downy fuzz.

I am not complaining, the soul from another realm argued, but this is what you made me wait for

After quite a while, the tavern keeper slowly climbed up the stairs. The fire had already gone out, as there was not much to burn here, with charred ashes and remnants everywhere, accompanied by a variety of foul odors. The acrid smell of flames scorching cobwebs and dust, the stench of burnt walls and cracked earth, the fishy odor of sea breeze and rainwater, the musty smell of rushes and wool felt, the hot odor of lamp oil, and the putrid stench of half-ogre blood, feces, and urine mixed together like shark meat buried underground for an entire year. Of course, you could completely open the wooden windows to disperse them, provided you wouldn't freeze to death or drown. The acrid smell of burnt walls and cracked earth, the fishy odor of sea breeze and rainwater, the musty smell of rushes and wool felt, the hot odor of lamp oil, and the putrid stench of half-ogre blood, feces, and urine mixed together like shark meat buried underground for an entire year. Of course, you could completely open the wooden windows to disperse them, provided you wouldn't freeze to death or drown.

Perhaps it is because you are not as foolish when you feel embarrassed

I know who you are talking about, the priest of Fro, regarding that problematic bottle of mead

A frail dog-headed creature timidly poked half of its head out from behind a stone bar adorned with shimmering shells, presenting them with a steaming jug of almond milk. Its ribs protruded starkly from the bare patches of its fur, and it wore a collar with a chain attached, the other end of which was fastened to the wall. It was the tavern owner's slave, assisting in transporting barrels of ale, painting the walls, cleaning the floors, and lending a hand in the kitchen. Whenever the tavern owner had to leave for various reasons, it helped keep watch over the towering stacks of beer and wine barrels.

At the very least, you could remind me. The soul from another world said in its heart, perhaps we can find a way to avoid this unnecessary conflict, but it forgot that in the realm of consciousness, there is no such thing as "saying in the heart." The lich then let out a sharp sneer

Consider them as the monsters in your game, the lich said bluntly. Although they cannot be resurrected, they will respawn. The only commendable aspect of the inferior races is that you never have to worry about lacking a pair of hands in your pockets or a stick eager to knock on your head. The cheapest things in Sharpjaw Harbor, apart from the gravel in the sea, are lives. They are, and so are you. Given that you have already died once, I thought you would cherish it a bit more. Do not forget, death in our world is not the end. The faithless will be used for wall building, consumed, or traded. The only commendable aspect of the inferior races is that you never have to worry about lacking a pair of hands in your pockets or a stick eager to knock on your head. The cheapest things in Sharpjaw Harbor, apart from the gravel in the sea, are lives. They are, and so are you. Given that you have already died once, I thought you would cherish it a bit more. Do not forget, death in our world is not the end. The faithless will be used for wall building, consumed, or traded. And you, a soul from another distant plane, may still have more and more important uses.

The dark brown wooden door was flung open again with a speed that matched how quickly it had been closed, and the priestess of Vro was violently pushed against the wall, screaming and weeping behind the heavy planks. A rough and strong fellow stood confused at the doorway, the candle that had fallen to the ground still burning, its flickering light illuminating his jaw. His head, resembling a briefly digested skull, stretched forward like a wild dog, snorting through his plump nose, his eyes glimmering in the dim light like embers about to extinguish. His ochre skin was covered in warts, a characteristic of ogres, but a typical ogre should stand nine to ten feet tall, not seven and a half. Furthermore, the features of his face were discernible, indicating that one of his parents was likely human, probably an unfortunate woman.

A thumb-sized bug fell into the half-ogre's red eye. He grabbed the bug, crushed it in his mouth, and quickly blinked to restore his blurred vision. Suddenly, the flames fueled by the lamp oil surged up his ankle and skillfully climbed upwards. As he hurried to extinguish the fire on his leg and dog-skin shorts, a slender sword drawn from his cane pierced through the smoke, stabbing into his back, penetrating that plump heart and stirring rapidly. As the flames fueled by the lamp oil surged up his ankle and skillfully climbed upwards, he hurried to extinguish the fire on his leg and dog-skin shorts, when a slender sword drawn from his cane pierced through the smoke, stabbing into his back, penetrating that plump heart and stirring rapidly.

He shouted uncontrollably, releasing his fingers, and the crossbow fell along with his unbalanced body. The window was only fifteen feet from the ground, making a safe landing quite easy, if not for a silver rope entangling his feet, indeed.

How terrifying this will be, the soul of another world murmured

We have no rooms available

"This one!" shouted the little goblin who was collecting the bodies, his voice sharp and high-pitched

What a terrifying piece of news this is, there are no rooms left, the Lich maliciously taunted, you will die because of this, won't you

The third person who climbed up the uneven exterior wall of the tavern only saw a flickering white light. He pushed aside the wooden window with his fingers, and a wisp of smoke immediately stung his eyes. The steel crossbow he was holding began to heat up, and within two breaths, it became too hot for him to grip.

Never, the soul from another realm interrupted him, I have never forgotten, every single word, which is why I am able to cut a throat or pierce a heart

You will get used to it, the Lich said calmly

The halfling hidden outside the door raised a dagger, hesitating whether to join in the chaos.

Is it my illusion, or do you seem quite pleased to see me embarrassed

The back of his head made solid contact with the hard gravel ground.

The tavern owner lifted his cloak, revealing the long and short weapons on his belt

This unadulterated hybrid first extended the wooden stick into the room, followed by its head and body

The soul from another realm erupted in a deep, melancholic laughter within consciousness

The front room of the tavern was empty, and fresh firewood had been added to the hearth, with the flames burning brightly.

There is truly no room left now, he said, shaking his head

I thought you would show her some mercy

Before he realized what he had stepped on, he had already fallen. His weight caused the entire tavern to tremble slightly, and the wooden club slipped from his hand. "Hoo hoo hee hoo hoo," he called out loudly for his companions while trying to climb up from the greasy floor.

The small goblins are only one-third the size of ordinary goblins. A lazy red-robed wizard, who is reluctant to clean up the remnants of his experiments, created them using the brain of a six-year-old human child, the stomach of a demon from the abyss, the body of a lizard, the skin of a toad, the tongue of a cat, and the teeth of a goblin. Later, some lords with particular tastes would purchase them to deal with the overabundance of rats in towns and those unclaimed corpses. When they exceed half a dozen, they pose a certain threat to the elderly, pregnant women, children, and critically ill patients, but they may not be a match for a well-trained, strong mercenary equipped with weapons. Later, some lords with particular tastes would purchase them to deal with the overabundance of rats in towns and those unclaimed corpses. When they exceed half a dozen, they pose a certain threat to the elderly, pregnant women, children, and critically ill patients, but they may not be a match for a well-trained, strong mercenary equipped with weapons.

The half-elf desperately widened his eyes as the damp cattail emitted a large amount of smoke, only smoke, without any light. Just as he was thinking this, he saw a light, a searing white light, and his eyes were instantly blinded. A tiny crystal followed closely behind, slicing through his trachea in the darkness. His throat emitted a hissing sound, slowly deflating like an inflated bag, while the unused dagger fell to the ground.

They stepped into a corridor still shrouded in a slight haze, where the atmosphere was both silent and dark, as if there were no inhabitants behind those doors or they had all perished. A corner of a coral-colored robe swiftly vanished from their line of sight, and the priestess of Fro miraculously escaped with her life from beneath the ogre's club and flames. Although she could not be considered unscathed, she had managed to heal her crooked nose.

However, living beings can make you so nervous that you cannot speak, and you would prefer to face a small gadget that can be downloaded, copied, and deleted at any time, wouldn't you

"Give this to us," the little goblin argued. "Too hard, very smelly." He pointed at the half-ogre: "Too small," and then at the halfling: "We want this one, human, tender, plenty, delicious." He extended his gray-green tongue, and thorn-like white spines stood upright, with translucent acidic saliva dripping onto the ground. If it weren't raining, the ground would surely have many small pits. Around him were four or five companions, all emitting uneven gurgling sounds to express support and threat. The thorn-like white spines stood upright, and translucent acidic saliva dripped onto the ground. If it weren't raining, the ground would surely have many small pits. Around him were four or five companions, all emitting uneven gurgling sounds to express support and threat.

The half-ogre stood up, dizzy and disoriented, and shouted angrily, "Hoo Hoo He!" He found his wooden club among the shattered pieces of the chair. His knees ached, and he could not locate his prey. The unexpected setbacks and the increasingly intense urge to kill caused a roar to roll deep in his throat. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, the stench emanating from his tooth-filled pig's mouth could practically serve as a second weapon. He paced around the room, the heavy, thick club had already smashed everything within reach in the time it would take an ordinary person to finish a complete sentence. The bed tilted and collapsed under the weight of the half-ogre as he jumped on it. The wicks slipped out from beneath the wool felt, ignited by the burning lamp oil, and hundreds of small insects scrambled out in panic from their hiding places and the dining area, waving their antennae, wings, and limbs in the choking smoke, their shadows chaotically covering the entire wall.

The creation of the red robe retreated, dragging the corpses of half-orcs and halflings away from the alley filled with dark, foul water, cursing humans, rain, and temperature fluently in the language of goblins along the way

As she wished, this hand was indeed extremely powerful, grasping the priest's neck and effortlessly lifting her up, as if pulling a deep-sea fish out of the water. She barely had time to show half a look of astonishment before being thrown out by a sheer force. Her back collided with the heavy door, which was only slightly ajar, and the sound of the door hitting the frame was loud enough to shake every piece of furniture in the room. She barely had time to show half a look of astonishment before being thrown out by a sheer force. Her back collided with the heavy door, which was only slightly ajar, and the sound of the door hitting the frame was loud enough to shake every piece of furniture in the room

"This won't do," said the tavern keeper, a hint of subtle anxiety crossing his broad face

He opened his mouth, wanting to let out a painful howl, but the smoke surged into his throat, and thus the last sound he left in the world was a muffled and agonizing cough

Oh heavens, I apologize, I mean, I never thought that, um, such a somewhat vulgar expression could have this kind of subtle and literary way of expression. Yes, I have praised it, but.

You praised her legs, believing that they could fulfill the most captivating fantasies of the vast majority of men and a small number of women