The wolves came to a halt. It was just as Ujicha had been told — a man was sitting down right in the center of the bumpy forest road.

“I am Ujicha, the chief warrior of the Garung tribe,” Ujicha shouted pompously as he got off his wolf’s back. “I am searching for the thieves who dared to steal our tribe’s prey. You, have you seen any elves with just one leg?”

The man didn’t respond. His body was wrapped up in a large cloak, and he even had the hood pulled up, so his face couldn’t be seen clearly.

“Answer me,” Ujicha demanded as his voice lowered into a growl.

Even though he had made sure to use the common language, the man didn’t respond. Ujicha took the man’s silence as confirmation of his guilt.

The moment that Ujicha raised his hand, the wolves began to growl. Dozens of warriors surrounded the man and blocked his escape routes.

“A hunt? Are we going to be hunting?” Dajarang’s voice rose slightly in excitement.

Dajarang, who only felt desire for women with physical impairments, had no interest in running around on his own two feet to hunt, but he did like watching others hunt and examining the corpses of their prey.

“Bron, Bron! I want to get closer too. If that bastard tries to take me hostage, make sure you stop him. Got it?”

“Yes, young master.”

Bron had no intention of trying to stop Dajarang. It wasn’t the first or the second time Dajarang tried to do this sort of thing, so Bron was used to it.

“Tell me about your comrades,” Ujicha ordered as he grabbed the hilt of the great sword that was strapped to his back, “Where are they taking the elf? If you tell me what you know about them and lead me to them, I might just spare your life.”

“This bald bastard! What gives him the right to decide whether this guy lives or not? There’s no way, no way! Kill him! Tear...