RoleplayNovel Chapter 32 Creatures in the Bushes
Chapter 32 Creatures in the Bushes
The early spring breeze stirred up ripples on the surface of East Lake.
As darkness fell, the wooden fence entrance to Duanpo Village became faintly visible at the end of the bumpy dirt road.
Rogge and his two companions spent the entire day running around, accomplishing virtually nothing, but they did witness the entire duel that would determine the fate of the village, which they considered an eye-opening experience.
But for the villagers of Duanpo Village, this day felt like half the sky had fallen.
Old Yar's helpers haven't even shown up, leaving the village in a passive position. Their only chance to turn the tide, the duel, is now almost lost, leaving them with nothing...
Rogge's gaze fell on the makeshift stretcher at the front of the line.
Two villagers carried the stretcher, their steps slow.
Old Jarl, lying on the stretcher, showed no signs of waking up from beginning to end.
"Could he really not be able to hold on like this?" Roger thought with some worry, his brows furrowing unconsciously.
As early as when Old Jarre won the first game, he had already noticed that Old Jarre's heart condition was abnormal and that he was at extremely high risk of sudden death...
But he was ultimately an outsider, and not only could he not stop the old man from continuing his desperate struggle, but even the people from his own village couldn't stop him...
I wonder how old Yar is doing. He's not dead yet, but he's hanging on by a thread.
He genuinely hoped that old Jarl would wake up.
Putting aside the fact that this old man is an upright person and one of the few reasonable people in the village.
To put it simply, these three outsiders were taken in by Old Yar. If they wanted to open a blacksmith shop and do business in Duanpo Village, Old Yar would have to mediate between them.
Who knows what attitude the newly appointed Yar will have towards outsiders if they really don't make it through...
The thought only lasted a moment, and this worry only lingered in Roger's mind for a fleeting instant.
Now that the three of them can forge weapons and produce high-quality equipment, in the current state of Duanpo Village, it should be the other side begging them to stay.
Now that their reputation is spreading, even if they rise to power in New Yar, they will never easily offend these three blacksmiths.
Rogge's concern for old Jarre was, in the end, nothing more than the goodwill of an ordinary person who sincerely hoped that another respectable person could survive.
……
The procession walked for a while longer, when suddenly, an uncontrollable gasp erupted from the front of the procession:
"He moved! Old Yar moved!" the villagers carrying the stretcher shouted at the top of their lungs.
The exclamations were like a boulder thrown into a still lake, instantly igniting the previously subdued atmosphere of the crowd.
Roger was overjoyed and strode forward.
When he arrived at the stretcher, it was already surrounded by villagers.
Roger was quite tall, and he stood slightly on his tiptoes.
Through the gaps between the villagers' necks, he noticed that old Yar, who had previously been on his last breath, was now breathing heavily, his chest heaving, no longer appearing as if he were on the verge of death.
The villagers surrounding the area seemed to have forgotten their sorrow at losing their land, and their faces broke into ecstatic joy.
The once lifeless procession seemed to come alive again at this moment!
Rogge's Eye of Insight focused on old Yar, and what was originally a "probability of sudden death" has now become "in a coma"!
……
Old Yar showed signs of waking up, and the villagers seemed to have found their pillar of support again, no longer so lost.
As they approached Duanpo Village, the villagers in the front row entered the village one after another.
Just then, Roger suddenly noticed a faint, crisp bird call.
Looking up, I saw three or four villagers gathered by the bushes near the village gate fence, pointing and whispering among themselves.
Curious, Roger went over.
Only upon closer inspection could one see that a small owl, or rather, a mutated grey owl, was huddled among the dead branches and fallen leaves of the bushes.
Judging by its size, it was only a little over a month old. Roger couldn't tell exactly how big it was, only that the little guy hadn't shed its downy fur yet...
The baby owl is covered in a layer of fluffy white down, a round ball, with its neck almost invisible.
One of its wings drooped as if it were injured. It was surrounded by several villagers, its round, golden-orange eyes wide open, staring blankly.
Perhaps frightened, its whole body trembled slightly, and it occasionally let out a few weak moans.
"That's strange. All the owls around East Lake are grayish-brown, but this one is so white it looks like it rolled out of a snowdrift..."
A villager squatted on the ground, frowning as he examined the baby owl, his tone full of confusion.
"I think this is definitely a mutated, deformed thing!"
"Those with deformities generally don't live long!"
Look at its white coat! It can't hide in the wild. Even when it's dark, it's still dazzlingly bright. Forget about catching mice!
Everyone nodded in agreement, but as they looked at the baby owl more closely, they felt something was amiss.
It's round and plump, with pure white feathers all over its body. It's a miracle that it has lived to be this old!
In the eyes of villagers who know how to hunt, mutations and deformities are never a good omen.
A man next to him spat, his face full of disgust: "Deformed things, bad luck!"
"No wonder we lost today! Maybe this thing brought bad luck beforehand!"
"In my opinion, we should just stomp him to death!" the man said, and was about to step forward.
Just as the man lifted his foot, the baby owl in the bushes stirred.
It seemed terrified, and with all its might, it flapped its other intact wing and scrambled out of the bushes.
"Auntie, auntie."
It let out a soft, mournful whimper as it stumbled along, finally crashing headfirst into Roger's trouser leg.
The tiny creature huddled at Roger's feet, seemingly exhausted, its little head raised, its round, golden-orange eyes staring unblinkingly at him.
Roger froze for a moment, looking down at the fluffy little thing at his feet, his heart filled with surprise.
The startled baby owl suddenly charged towards him!
Roger instinctively took a half step back, but something even more surprising happened.
Seeing him retreat, the little thing actually got up again, took small, unsteady steps, and followed him once more!
This little thing actually squatted right on Rogge's instep!
The little creature emitted a soft, low hum, and Roger's heart melted instantly in surprise.
He didn't know what kind of magic he possessed that made the frightened baby owl so dependent on him.
The only thing that has any magic about him is that griffin pendant!
Looking at the round, fluffy little creature on the back of his foot, its wings still drooping, Roger could no longer ignore it.
Even in this desolate place, the early spring nights can still be freezing cold.
It was also injured and left in the wild; it definitely wouldn't survive the night.
"Alright, let's take it back and see how it goes. If it doesn't work, we'll release it..."
Roger didn't think too much about whether it was deformed or not. He had seen many strange and mutated species on the internet in modern society, so this was nothing to him.
Roger sighed inwardly, bent down, and reached out to scoop up the furball.
He had expected the little thing to struggle.
Unexpectedly, it neither resisted nor pecked at people, but simply squatted obediently in Roger's palm, its sharp little claws gently scratching the skin of his hand.
"Everyone, disperse. I'll handle this bad luck!"
Seeing the villagers looking at him with suspicion, Roger quickly added a sentence.
Although the villagers still looked displeased, no one wanted to offend anyone easily, so they ultimately stopped paying attention and turned to go back into the village.
Virgil and Gold joined them.
Gold's rough face was full of curiosity. He stretched out his short, stubby fingers, as if to flick the baby owl's round head: "Hey, this little thing is really good-looking!"
Roger reacted quickly, immediately moving to the side to avoid his fingers.
"Get out of my way! You reckless idiot, you might just kill me with that!"
If the baby owl had been flicked on the head by God's short, thick, and powerful fingers, it would probably have died on the spot.
Gold wasn't annoyed at all. He scratched his head and chuckled, "This little thing is quite intelligent. I feel like it's glaring at me..."
Rogge looked at the baby owl in his palm, still with the same blank stare, but when he looked in Gold's direction, his head tilted slightly, giving him a genuinely angry glare...
Looking into the clear, golden-orange eyes of the little creature in his palm, a legend of the ancient Pandemon gods that he had once read suddenly flashed through Roger's mind:
It is said that the "Goddess of Order" "Yonomia Stabilitis," worshipped by the ancient Pander people, always has an owl perched on her shoulder...
The owl was both the goddess's messenger and her manifestation before mortals.
In the eyes of the goddess's followers,
They believed that the hooting of owls in the wilderness was never just ordinary bird calls, but a harbinger from the goddess of order to her followers, hinting that something was about to happen!
The thought flashed through Roger's mind, and he shook his head with a chuckle.
But when he looked down, he found that the little guy in his palm was staring at him intently with his round, golden-orange eyes.
Roger's heart skipped a beat, and he subconsciously activated his Eye of Insight to look at the little guy in his palm.
The next second, Roger, who had seen the results of his observation, was struck dumb as if by lightning!
……