Chương 295

Flash. Rudra stepped out of the Teleportation Circle. His boots hit the mud with a heavy, wet squelch. The Arc Kingdom swamps smelled exactly like he remembered. Rotting leaves, stagnant water, and damp earth. The humidity wrapped around him like a wet blanket immediately. He didn't mind. He had high enough stats to ignore the weather. Ding. [Your Echo Clone has produced 'Midnight Skewer'.] [This dish has reached its Stat-Growth limit for this recipe.] [No permanent stat gain will be granted.] Rudra read the floating text. He let out a deep sigh of resignation. Right. That thing. The ten-use cooking cap was a hard wall in the system. Every dish he cooked, or his clone cooked, only paid out permanent stats ten times. After the tenth time, the dish provided skill experience, however less, and respective dish buffs but he could no longer get any more stat boost. Ten stat boost for each recipe. Then the recipe stopped helping him grow.

Before he left Stormbreak, he had locked himself in the kitchen for two straight days. He drafted a set of recipes. Due to his Cooking following the path of a Cooking Saint, the dishes he creates doesn't depend on the ingredient to provide the buffs but rather the technique and the thought he had when cooking it. This allowed him to create a series of different recipes that gave similar buffs that would comprehensively help the entire territory.

Of course he was only able to create around 10 or so different [Genesis Series] recipes, based on the recipes he had on hand, but he tasked his clone to focus on constantly creating new recipes. He had also asked Cecilia to use her merchant group to scroll through the various kingdoms to find any and all recipes and bring it to him so that he could see if it can be referenced to create a [Genesis Series] dish. It was a starting point.

And when he also had the clone try to get the 10 times stat boosting using his other recipes whenever possible as well. He dismissed the blue window with a wave of his hand. He looked ahead. The Valiant Tribe's village was close. Rudra started walking. He didn't bother trying to hide his presence. The swamp was dense and miserable, but the mud seemed to naturally part around his black boots. The low-hanging mist rolled away from his shoulders before it could touch his coat.

A Level 200 swamp panther stepped out of the brush, took one look at Rudra's 5500+ Dignity and Charm, whimpered, and slowly backed away into the mud. It was a physical, oppressive weight. He stepped out of the tree line and approached the massive wooden gates of the Valiant Village. The gates were made of bleached monster tusks, driven point-down into the earth and lashed together with thick vines. Four Orc warriors stood guard. They were nine feet tall, corded with thick green muscle, and held jagged iron axes.

They saw Rudra. Clatter. Two of the axes hit the dirt. The Orcs stared at him. Their jaws went slack. They looked at Rudra like the sun had just landed in their swamp. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. One Orc dropped to his knees. He raised both arms, hitting a front double-bicep pose. His massive arms trembled. Tears welled up in his dark eyes and spilled down his green cheeks.

"Such... symmetry," the Orc whispered reverently.

"The proportions," another guard gasped. He flexed his pecs, desperately trying to mirror Rudra's posture.

"It hurts to look at. He is too beautiful." Rudra blinked. He looked down at his black trench coat. He hadn't even drawn his staff. He was just standing there. The gates swung open. More Orcs spilled out from the village. The reaction was exactly the same. A crowd of massive, battle-hardened warriors fell into a synchronized posing routine. They wept at the sheer aesthetic pressure radiating from Rudra's body.

"Move! Make way!" a loud voice boomed from the back of the crowd. A huge Orc pushed through the weeping warriors. It was Korag. Korag stopped dead. The breath hitched in his chest. He looked at Rudra, taking in the towering Charm and Dignity stats. Korag fell to one knee. He struck a side-chest pose, holding his breath to keep his core tight.

"Great being," Korag rumbled, his voice shaking with awe.

"You honor this humble mud with your perfect angles. We are unworthy." Rudra sighed.

"Korag, get up. It's me." Korag squinted. He leaned forward and sniffed the air. The scent of a cook he was familiar with clung to Rudra's coat. The awe melted into sudden, delighted recognition.

"The Aesthetic Chef!" Korag yelled. He dropped the pose and surged to his feet.

"Just Rudra is fine," Rudra chuckled. Korag laughed. It was a big, rolling sound that echoed off the wooden palisades. He didn't try to hug Rudra. The Dignity stat was still too high for casual contact. But he beamed with genuine joy.

"You feel different," Korag said, holding his hands out.

"You feel like a king now. Last time you were here, you smelled like a man who fought too many crocodiles for one week."

"I did fight a lot of crocodiles that week," Rudra said.

"You smelled like it," Korag said.

"Come. Sit. Eat something. We can discuss how to effectively develop our muscles." They walked into the village. They sat by one of the large cook-fires. Korag pushed a wooden plate of roasted, glistening meat toward him without asking. Rudra took a bite. It was heavy on garlic and a little too salty. It was exactly the kind of cooking he had missed.

"How's Valera?" Rudra asked. Korag's whole chest puffed out on reflex.

"Strong. Beautiful. She threw me over the fence this morning because I developed even better muscles."

"Healthy relationship," Rudra said.

"The healthiest," Korag agreed, completely serious. They ate in silence for a moment. Rudra looked around. The village was quiet. Too quiet. There were fewer Orcs working out in the fields or sparring in the training rings.

"Something's different here," Rudra said, pointing a piece of meat toward the tree line.

"Fewer people out." Korag's grin didn't disappear, but it went a little tight at the corners.

"Poachers," Korag grunted.

"Humans. A massive gang this time. A hundred heavily armed men. They have been circling our southern fields for half a moon. They steal the young swamp beasts we train, take what they can carry, and run before we can catch them properly."

"You want help?" Rudra asked.

"Give me ten minutes. I'll clear the swamp." Korag waved a huge green hand.

"No, no. We already hired outside help. A mercenary."

"One mercenary? For a hundred guys?" Korag wrung his thick hands together. The confident bravado slipped away.

"Yes. She arrived a few days ago. A beautiful woman. She looked capable. Very good posture. She offered to handle the poachers for a fee of rare swamp herbs." Rudra stopped chewing.

"She went alone," Korag said, his voice dropping low.

"A hundred men against one woman. The Chief is worried. I am worried. If she falls, they will push into the village. Please. I ask this of you. Find her. Make sure she survives." Ding. [A quest has been generated!] [The Valiant Tribe's Anxiety] [Difficulty: A] [The Valiant Orcs are deeply concerned about the lone beautiful mercenary they hired to fight a 100-man poacher gang.] [Condition: Locate the mercenary. Ensure she survives.] [Reward: Affinity with Valiant Tribe +10.] Rudra read the prompt floating in the humid air. It was an easy win. He needed their affinity maxed out anyway to convince them to pack up and move to Stormbreak. He also needed to feed them for his Cooking Saint quest.

"I'll go check on her," Rudra said cheerfully.

"Don't stress, Korag. I'll make sure she doesn't get turned into a pincushion." Korag let out a massive, gusting breath of relief.

"Thank you. Truly. We owe you a great debt."

"Just keep your posing trunks ready," Rudra joked, turning toward the eastern marsh.

"I brought some good food." Rudra left the village. He moved fast, following the coordinates Korag gave him.