Chapter 83: Men

Chapter 83: Chapter 83: Men

But now that night has just fallen, there’s still a long way to go till dawn. Who knows if something else unexpected might happen.

Renee Morgan worried for just a few seconds, but still felt that getting some sleep was more important at the moment. Otherwise, if danger arrived, she’d be useless without energy.

Taylor and Sean were outside. She sat with them around the campfire.

They tried to probe Renee Morgan’s identity, but Taylor and Sean kept their mouths shut. Still, the respect on their faces was impossible to hide.

For a moment, the Hall Master and his crew became ever more convinced Renee Morgan’s identity was extraordinary.

The other side had quite a few people, and they took turns resting.

Originally it was the Hall Master’s turn to rest, but when he saw Taylor and Sean, he gave up his chance to someone else, and instead sat by the fire to talk to them.

Taylor and Sean only then learned that two mysterious men had come to the tent opposite, looking like they came from somewhere big, and were told to stay alert.

For the Hall Master to say such a thing—it really showed the men weren’t ordinary. Sean secretly thought he should warn Renee Morgan if he had the chance.

Last night they’d been tossed about for half the night, and couldn’t get a decent sleep. Today they’d trudged so much mountain road and caused so much trouble—Renee Morgan really was exhausted, and soon fell asleep.

She slept deeply, but still felt uneasy inside, always sensing the night wasn’t safe. She wanted to open her eyes several times to check, but finally failed and drifted off, until Sean’s sharp voice rang out.

"Renee—" Sean’s voice suddenly got stuck, and went silent.

At first Renee Morgan thought she must’ve misheard. Sean was usually quiet, speaking in a deep, powerful tone—when had he ever lost composure like this?

Renee Morgan forced her heavy head awake, rubbed her eyes a few times, and only then cleared her thoughts. She hurriedly drew the knife at her waist, ready to rush out, but then thought—the people outside might be right at the door. If she got grabbed as she exited, she’d end up completely powerless.

Renee Morgan abruptly stopped herself and pressed against the tent flap, drenched in cold sweat. She stared wide-eyed into the darkness, rapidly thinking up ways to escape.

The group outside had all been taken down, forced into blowing their whistles.

Renee Morgan didn’t hear Sean’s voice anymore, just whistles sounding off again and again. She understood these people had all been eliminated.

Who were these people, who could wipe out even Zayed’s gang—the ones even he feared?

Renee Morgan didn’t know Merrick’s local powers, but she knew Zayed and his crew were bottom-rung, while The Godfather’s faction couldn’t be underestimated. The ones here were supposed to be The Godfather’s top experts—and yet they’d been wiped out with ease. Otherwise, Sean wouldn’t have failed to warn her in time.

Leaning against the tent flap, Renee Morgan had already pictured a group of vicious killers. Her hand clutching the knife actually trembled.

Should she blow her whistle now, and surrender? Or should she blow her whistle and walk out to see what happens?

"Come out." The opponent’s clear, deep voice rang out, calm as ever.

Renee Morgan found the voice pleasant enough, difficult to associate with any vicious killers. Her momentary daze pushed away her earlier plans—she simply walked out of the tent with her head held high.

The campfire in front of the tent was still burning, but Taylor and Sean had been eliminated and were nowhere to be seen. By the bright fire, two men stood, about the same height—nearly six foot three, thin and lean. One stared at her, holding a monkey by its leash. The whole scene felt weird.

The killers Renee Morgan pictured turned out to be... two slender men. They had long, deep-set eyes, like the ones drawn for comic book protagonists—handsome features that should’ve been shining and sunny. Yet, both of them had a shadowy, lazy aura. The man holding the monkey gazed at her with tilted, pretty eyes, but said nothing.

The other man had his hands in his pockets. Hearing her come out, he glanced at her casually and spoke: "Aethelian? From Z-country?"

Renee Morgan nodded calmly. "I’m from Z-country."

The man smiled—nice enough, but with something wicked about it. "You’re not afraid of us?"

Renee Morgan knew there was no escaping this. She kept a straight face: "If you want me to do something, just say it."

No need for them to act. She could eliminate herself by blowing the whistle.

The man hadn’t expected her to be so perceptive. That last group had suffered plenty, only forced into submission after tasting defeat.

The man looked at her—she was stunning, but her eyes were clear as day.

There are plenty of beauties in this world. They rely on their looks to get what they want, knowing their appearance is a huge weapon. Meeting men, they can’t help but radiate a certain allure—the vulnerability of being available. Even if they don’t see themselves as belonging to anyone, they hope every man desires them.

He’d seen enough—thought most beauties were like that, busty and brainless.

The clarity in Renee Morgan’s eyes couldn’t be faked. She was beautiful, but never used that as a tool—her straightforwardness was oddly comforting.

The man holding the monkey suddenly spoke: "You have food?"

Renee Morgan didn’t know how they’d guessed—or maybe they were just robbing her on a gamble?

Renee Morgan knew scheming was pointless, so she went straight back into the tent and pulled out three backpacks—one packed with tools, the other two stuffed full of apples.

Before Renee Morgan could say anything, the man’s monkey suddenly started jumping around restlessly.

The man lowered his head to rub the monkey’s head. He chuckled, "Pretty sharp nose, huh?"

Renee Morgan: "..."

So, tonight’s disaster came because of these apples?

Renee Morgan silently sympathized with the Hall Master’s crew—they hadn’t even tasted her apples, but still got eliminated because of her.

Seeing Renee Morgan hand over the food so straightforwardly, the two men suddenly regarded her differently.

Noticing their curious stares, Renee Morgan guessed they wondered about the apples’ origin, and spoke up: "I picked the apples. Just in the forest over there—a bit of a distance away."

She tried to explain the place, her survival instinct kicking in hard.

The man obviously got her meaning, and understood it. But seeing how clever she was, it didn’t feel right to force her out so quickly.

After Renee Morgan finished, the two just stayed silent, awkwardly making her blink.

The man probably felt hungry—he glanced at the apples in the backpack, then at her, his cold eyes so indifferent it was impossible to read his mood.

Renee Morgan sensibly went off to wash apples.

When she came back, the two men were already at the fire, the monkey gnawing apples beside them.

Hearing footsteps, one man looked up at her, a smile flashing across his face: "Confident, huh." You’re not running.

Renee Morgan had washed four apples. She handed two to each of them, and sat opposite, watching them munch apples.