Chương 51: Skull-Crusher Moen

The Hidden Valley lay on the southern frontier of the Dragon Blood City region—a remote, secluded place. Not far from it was a sparsely peopled hamlet called Clearspring Village, where a clear spring ran—its water crystalline, crisp and sweet—earning the village a modest fame around Dragon Blood City. On the strength of selling bottled spring water, the villagers got by comfortably enough. Farmer's Spring was the name they'd given their bottled water. But these past days, the villagers' lot was grim.

A bare-chested, savage-faced brute had come to the village and seized every soul in it.

"Bottle that water, now! Nobody slacks off!" The brute swung a meteor hammer the size of a clay pot, seated on a boulder by the spring, sweeping a hostile glare over the exhausted, gasping villagers.

"If you haven't filled ten thousand bottles by dawn, I'll smash every one of your heads to pulp!" The villagers seethed in silence and could only speed their hands, working the bottling like machines. Farmer's Spring wasn't merely water poured into bottles; it took special processing before it could be sold. Ten thousand bottles, for a Clearspring Village of fewer than fifty people, was a workload to kill them.

A little girl, dainty as a sculpted porcelain doll, was pale with exhaustion—yet she held on through gritted teeth, refusing to give up.

"Berry, let Grandpa do it. Go rest, don't wear yourself out." A white-haired, slightly stooped old man reached out a withered hand and caught the girl's little hands, rubbed raw and red from the ceaseless work.

"No! Berry wants to help Grandpa! Berry isn't tired!" Fighting the dizziness in her head, she clenched her silver teeth, a stubborn look on her face.

"Don't worry, Grandpa! Berry won't collapse!"

"But… you've worked through the whole night!" The old man's face was full of heartache; he stroked her head, powerless to do more. Two days ago, Skull-Crusher Moen had suddenly come to Clearspring Village, imprisoned every villager to labor for him, bottling water day and night with hardly any rest. Of a village that had numbered over a hundred, only fifty-odd remained now. The rest had either had their skulls smashed by Moen for resisting, or worked themselves to death in the endless toil.

For a whole day's labor, all they got was one bottle of water and a steamed bun—nothing more.

"You old bag! Did I say you could talk? Don't think being the village chief lets you slack! From now on I'll count yours separately—if you haven't bottled a thousand by dawn, I'll smash your head all the same!" Moen bellowed at the stooped old man.

"Quick about it, all of you! Mind your heads!"

"Grandpa, you…" Berry's pale little face was full of worry. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Sigh—it's all right. I'm just a bag of old bones; a little hardship is nothing. I've borne worse over the years—don't fret too much." He smiled bitterly, rubbing her head to comfort her.

"Don't worry, Grandpa—Berry already sent Pip to the city for help. Someone will come save us before long!" She clenched her fists, a thread of firm faith in her eyes. Pip was a wounded white-feathered pigeon she'd rescued in the wild, very obedient; when the trouble first struck two days ago, she'd quietly sent Pip to carry word to the city, so help should come soon.

"Sigh—let's hope so…"

"They say the city has many fine Beast Tamers; they're sure to understand Pip!" Berry kept cheering the old man on.

"Brat! Tired of living, are you? Whispering with this old thing since the start—fine, I'll grant your wish!" Moen's gaze sank, a vicious glint in his eyes. Damn—I've gone a whole day without killing for the sake of this water! My hands are itching! With the target of three hundred thousand bottles drawing nearer, he could hold back no longer. Why not start with this little girl? He looked at the porcelain-doll Berry and licked his lips, a vision of her brains bursting flashing through his mind.

"That flavor… must be delicious." Skull-Crusher Moen sprang down from the boulder and charged at her. Watching the ferocious Moen come, Berry froze, terror seizing her, her feet leaden, unable to move an inch.

"Berry, look out!" Seeing Moen's meteor hammer about to strike her little head, the old man threw himself forward with all his strength, wrapping his arms around her. A tearing pain shot through his back as a great chunk of flesh was ripped away by the barbed hammer. Blood spilled across the ground.

"Grandpa!" Coming to herself, Berry wept like rain, her pale little face full of dread. Grandpa was her only kin—if she lost him…

"You old thing! Since you want to die so badly, I'll send you off first!" Moen stepped over, glanced darkly at the stooped old man, and swung the meteor hammer like a gale at the back of his head.

"Grandpa!" At the last hair's breadth, Berry clenched her teeth, and somehow her hands filled with strength; she shoved the old man shielding her aside—leaving herself fully exposed beneath the screaming hammer.

"Hahahaha! How delightful!" Skull-Crusher Moen laughed madly.

"This little drama's the finest thing I've seen in days! Magnificent! Hahaha…"

"Berry!" The old man's face went white, old tears streaming.

"Grandpa, Berry can't keep you company anymore…" She was ashen, not a trace of color in her—shoving the old man had spent her last strength; now she could scarcely move a finger.

"Hahaha! Let me see just how pretty a little girl's brains can be!" The meteor hammer screamed down, an instant from her head. The villagers around shut their eyes, unwilling to witness so heartbreaking a sight. Clang! A crisp sound rang out. In a flash, an afterimage swept into the field; one arm scooped Berry up, while the other swung a golden battleaxe with all its might, blocking Moen's sure-kill blow.

"Who are you, kid?!" Skull-Crusher Moen's face sank, fury rising at the man who'd appeared from nowhere to ruin his fun.

"Your name's Berry, right? Thank you—if not for Pip, I might not have made it in time to save everyone." Ryan set her down with a smile.

"Damn, are you deaf? Didn't you hear me ask you a question?!" Ignored, Moen flew into a rage; face dark, he swung the meteor hammer and charged. He'd decided! Today he'd embark on a slaughter—smash every head here, then brew their brains into wine and drink it!