Chapter 99: ⁹⁹Tracks In The Silent Village

​Thick fog swallowed the moonlight at the border. The north wind howled, freezing the air to the marrow. The snow, which had been falling endlessly since evening, now piled up two fingers thick on the valley’s stone-paved road.

​At the edge of the ruined temple—which had just become a graveyard for the guardian demon and dozens of Serpent’s Tongue members—Ethan Valen stood frozen.

​His dark cloak fluttered gently. His long-sleeved black shirt was left slightly unbuttoned at the collar. His eyes glared sharply toward the east, tracking the faint rumble of a frozen waterfall at the end of the valley.

​However, the direct path to the main lair was completely cut off.

​A hill-sized pile of ice and rocks blocked the way, remnants of a previous battle or simply a natural trap. Forcing their way through by digging in the middle of this blinding blizzard was far too risky.

​Valera Voss stepped forward, stopping half a pace behind Ethan. The wind swept her short brown hair. Her golden-yellow eyes narrowed, scanning the terrain ahead.

​"Tch. The eastern route is completely cut off," Valera reported. The female knight was still wearing her sleeveless black armor, with her giant Zweihander resting sturdily on her back. "If we force our way through that landslide, our stamina will be drained for nothing. But... there’s a detour."

​Ethan didn’t turn his head. "Where to?"

​Valera pointed toward the southwest, piercing through the fog toward the lower valley basin. "There’s a small village down there. Based on a logistics route I once confiscated, that village is a gathering point. A dark path supplying food, poison, and even humans to Serpent’s Tongue."

​Ethan fell silent for a moment. His eyes narrowed slightly. His index finger tapped lightly against the hilt of his weapon.

​"Hmm. We detour through that village," Ethan decided, his tone absolute. "Not to rest. But to set a bait."

​Valera raised an eyebrow. "Huh? You mean we’re going to fish for information from their logistics leeches?"

​"More than that." Ethan pivoted, starting to walk down. "We make sure no rats slip past behind us. I want to cut off the snake’s blood supply before severing its head."

​An hour later, the steep rocky path began to level out.

​Behind the curtain of thick fog, spots of faded orange light floated like dead fireflies. An isolated settlement.

​The village was extraordinarily silent. Straw-roofed wooden houses bowed under the weight of the snow. Thin smoke billowed from several chimneys, blending with the candlelight behind the frosted windows.

​However, the moment the tips of their boots touched the village boundary, Valera’s steps halted. Her right hand reflexively gripped the hilt of the sword on her back.

​"The smell of corpses," she whispered softly, her nose crinkling slightly.

​Ethan glanced over from the corner of his eye. "Under the snow?"

​"Faintly. But yes." Valera sniffed the air once more. "The blood is frozen, but the scent is sharp. There are one... or two bodies buried haphazardly around here."

​They resumed walking, strolling down the main street. The deeper they went, the more suffocating the air felt.

​There was no barking of dogs. No snoring. Several house doors were left half-open, letting the snow drift into the living rooms.

​Behind those dark windows, human silhouettes stood frozen. Men and women with hollow cheeks and dull eyes. They peeked at Ethan and Valera’s arrival, holding back their trembling bodies with all their might.

​The silence of this village was not peace. It was terror.

​At the end of the ascending main road, a two-story wooden inn welcomed them. Its door was half-open. A worn signboard with peeling paint creaked in the wind.

​The Rusted Lamp.

​Without hesitation, Ethan pushed the door open. Valera followed, positioning herself right behind her master’s back.

​The air inside the inn felt warm, yet stuffy from a mix of burning lard, spiced tea, and stale sweat. A long dining table sat completely empty in the middle of the room.

​From the kitchen, a fat man wearing a shabby apron covered in meat bloodstains emerged. His eyes darted quickly, locking onto Ethan’s expensive shirt and Valera’s giant sword. The man swallowed hard, then forced a wide smile.

​"O-Oh! A very cold night, My Lords," he greeted while rubbing his hands together. "The north wind is raging. Are you looking for a room?"

​"A room for two," Ethan cut in coldly, radiating a thick aura of arrogance. "With a fully lit fireplace."

​"O-Of course! Upstairs, room number four." The fat man hurriedly placed a rusted iron key on the counter.

​Ethan snatched the key and immediately walked to the stairs without asking for the price. Behind him, Valera’s golden eyes caught a panicked exchange of glances between the innkeeper and a female servant at the kitchen threshold.

​The wooden stairs creaked loudly with every step they took.

​The moment they entered room number four, Ethan closed the door. Valera immediately turned the lock.

​The room was spacious but dusty. A large wooden bed dominated the room, facing directly across from a fireplace whose flames were beginning to dim.

​Soundlessly, Valera sprang into action. She knocked on the wooden walls, opened the rickety wardrobe doors, checked under the bed, and inspected the window frames.

​Her fingers suddenly stopped on a wooden panel beside the bed.

​A hole the size of a pencil tip. Its position was obscured by the shadow of the nightstand, but it pointed straight at the bed.

​Valera looked at Ethan. She pointed at the hole and mouthed soundlessly, "Spy."

​Ethan stepped closer. He glanced at the peephole for a moment. Instead of ordering Valera to plug it up, the corner of Ethan’s lips twitched into a faint smile. He shook his head.

​"Leave it be," Ethan replied softly.

​Valera furrowed her brows. Huh? But she didn’t argue. If her master left a peephole open, it meant a trap was being woven.

​They began their act. Valera stripped off her shoulder and chest armor, placing her Zweihander by the side of the bed. Ethan took off his thick cloak and blew out the room’s candle.

​The room sank into pitch darkness, illuminated only by the dim red glow from the fireplace. The two laid down, regulating their breathing rhythms as naturally as possible. Deep, steady, perfect.

​However, behind their closed eyelids, their killer instincts were awakened one hundred percent.

​Time crawled slowly. Only the howl of the wind could be heard, until finally...

​Tap... tap...

​A very soft knock echoed from the wooden wall where the peephole was located. Someone had just confirmed their guests were asleep, then signaled outside.

​Valera’s eyes fluttered open. She glanced at the window.

​Ethan was already sitting on the wooden chair near the window. The young man pressed his index finger to his lips, then gave a hand signal. Now.

​Valera got up without making the mattress springs creak in the slightest. She merely grabbed the short dagger from her waist.

​Ethan slowly undid the window latch, holding the hinges so they wouldn’t squeak, and leaped into the darkness of the night. Valera followed as lightly as a cat.

​The freezing air instantly stung their skin. Valera leaped onto the inn’s roof, crawling nimbly across the snowy tiles as a lookout. Below her, Ethan blended into the shadows of the narrow alleys between the houses.

​From her vantage point, Valera’s eyes caught movement.

​A man in a thick coat was walking hurriedly down the village’s back street. His hand held a lantern that swayed frantically. He was heading for a large, isolated warehouse on the western edge.

​As soon as the man went inside, Valera signaled downward. Ethan nodded from the shadows.

​Shortly after, two other figures emerged from different alleys. Both wore tightly hooded gray cloaks. Their steps were soundless. They followed the first man into the same warehouse.

​Ethan and Valera moved quickly to approach. They hid behind a pile of firewood on the side of the warehouse, pressing their ears against a gap in the loose planks.

​The pungent smell of cheap incense and chemical liquids stung their noses. Through the wooden gap, they saw a lantern placed on top of a coffin. Three people surrounded it.

​"Has the next offering been prepared?" A hoarse, low voice came from one of the hooded men.

​The villager bowed deeply, rubbing his trembling hands. "Y-Yes, My Lord! Four people from the northern hamlet. Two men, one young woman, one small child. They have been drugged in the basement of the main barn."

​"Good," nodded the second hooded man. "Make sure their blood is fresh. The Hollow will be very pleased with this week’s offering."

​Outside, Ethan’s eyes narrowed sharply.

​The Hollow. That title was spoken with a tone of pure terror, confirming who sat at the top of the food chain in this region.

​"And the poison shipment ordered by the lower city faction?" asked the first hooded man again.

​"Everything is already packed inside the fake wine barrels, Sir. We’re just waiting for the disguised caravan to pick them up in three days."

​Valera’s jaw clenched. Her left hand gripped the hilt of her dagger. She turned to Ethan, her eyes projecting a single question: Slaughter them now?

​Ethan grabbed Valera’s wrist tightly. He shook his head slowly. Slaughtering them here would only create blind panic.

​Ten minutes passed with technical chatter. One of the hooded men finally cleared his throat.

​"I have to take a piss for a second. Finish up the report," he said, then walked toward the back door of the warehouse.

​The wooden door creaked. The man stepped out onto the snowy ground, not far from Ethan and Valera’s hiding spot. He shivered, pulled down his hood, and began to unbuckle his belt.

​He never got to finish.

​A black shadow darted from behind the wood.

​In the blink of an eye, Valera was already behind the man. Her left hand clamped over the target’s mouth with a steel-like grip, yanking his head back. Her right hand swung her dagger.

​Slash!

​The steel blade sliced through his neck with deadly precision. His vocal cords and carotid artery were severed simultaneously.

​The man’s eyes bugged out in horror. Blood sprayed, painting the white snow with hot, reddish steam.

​Valera held the desperately struggling body in silence. Not a single scream escaped. Second after second passed until his convulsions subsided. Soundlessly, the knight dragged the corpse into a dark gap beneath the firewood pile.

​Valera knelt, wiped the blade of her dagger against the clean snow, and sheathed it.

​She looked at Ethan, whispering through the wind. "Hurry. In five minutes his buddy will notice and sound the alarm."

​Ethan nodded. Without a trace, the two retreated, blending into the darkness of the frozen streets, and climbed back into room number four.

​The window was shut tight.

​Inside the safety of the room, Valera lit a small candle. The snow fell heavily outside again, burying the remaining blood behind the warehouse.

​The female knight sat at the edge of the bed. She smirked faintly, adrenaline still pumping through her veins.

​"The Hollow," Valera muttered. "That’s not a real name, is it?"

​Ethan leaned casually against the wall near the window. "No. But it’s enough to be a valid target."

​"Tch, we could have just busted into that warehouse and slaughtered them all tonight, My Lord," Valera grumbled softly. "Why hold me back?"

​"It’s useless. That warehouse is just a small node." Ethan stared at his knight. "You heard them yourself, they’re only couriers and sacrifice preppers. The Hollow isn’t in this village. The snake’s head is hiding somewhere comfortable."

​Valera leaned her head against the bedpost, sighing. "And then? Are we going to wait three days in this corpse-smelling village until their caravan arrives, then tail them?"

​Hearing that, the corner of Ethan’s lips tugged upward. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, cold and piercing.

​"No," Ethan replied quietly. "Waiting only gives them time to erase their tracks."

​Valera raised an eyebrow. "Then what? How do we force the snake out of its nest?"

​"Tomorrow morning, we are going to cause a massive uproar in this place." Ethan walked slowly toward the bed. "We’ll let the spy behind that wall run away in terror, reporting to his superiors that their logistics have been destroyed. After that, we’ll set a bait they can’t possibly refuse."

​Valera chuckled low. Her hoarse voice was filled with anticipation. She knew exactly what the smile on her master’s face meant—the smile of a predator assembling the most sadistic trap for its prey.

​Ethan blew out the small candle on the table. The room returned to pitch darkness.

​"Go to sleep, Valera," Ethan commanded from within the darkness. "Because tomorrow morning, we are going to turn this silent village into the main stage for a slaughter."