Warriors will die if they charge.

The next day, under the indifferent gaze of Drow, Marcus, whose injuries had healed, left home and went to the residence of the thief Lawson.

As he passed by the crevices along the way, he went in to take a look. The blood that had flowed on the field last night had been washed away by the light rain that fell in the early morning.

He heard people talking about yesterday's cockfight, saying it was a great match.

As for who died and where the young master whose tongue was cut out came from, everyone said they couldn't remember.

A noble young master joins a cockfighting competition, a prostitute steals business from Japas in the red-light district, and a mysterious mage of unknown origin—it all feels like the town has suddenly become lively.

Lawson's residence was a second-hand villa, with open spaces planted with parsley, onions, and cinnamon trees. This skilled halfling thief was perhaps no less adept at kitchen cooking than at lock picking.

As soon as Marcus arrived on the street, he saw Lawson standing quietly by the yard fence, gazing absently at the clouds drifting by in the distance, muttering incomprehensible dialect.

"Lawson, I've come to collect my payment."

Lawson was jolted awake by Marcus's words. He seemed to wake up from a dream, his eyes under his short black hair wary like those of a beast.

The halfling took off the small pouch from his waist, tossed it to Marcus, and continued to indulge in his dream of gazing into the distance.

The small bag was heavy. Marcus shook it for a while, but there was no crisp sound of gold and silver clinking together; instead, there was a restless rustling echo.

He untied the leather strap, and the leather bag was filled with pebbles about the thickness of a little finger, just like the stones that children throw when they playfully fight.

It was dusty and smooth from being polished by the water.

Filled with barely suppressed rage, Marcus threw the bag full of stones at Lawson's feet:

"Lawson, you shouldn't have forgotten what you promised yesterday. Prepare a generous reward to repay me, Marcus Norfitz, for helping you take Tira away."

"She took everything—my heart, my hands, a shawl adorned with gold bars—and left without looking back. She didn't hear my calls; she ran against the wind, faster than a deer. No sound in the world could stop Tira." Lawson murmured, gazing intently at a white cloud drifting across the sky.

"She crossed the steaming swamp, leaped over the honeycomb-like mine pits, and walked on the water leading to freedom. She was free, and I followed her to the destination of my soul."

Are you kidding me? My friend, I'm talking to you about payment, and you're spouting nonsense and absurd stories.

Marcus thought to himself, then waved his hand and questioned:

"Listen, Lawson, I don't care how that woman has fooled you, but you have to be honest. I've held you back and taken over a hundred sword wounds, so you have to hand over your payment."

Lawson pointed to the bright courtyard, where a drop of dew fell from the green leaves of a laurel tree, sprinkling onto the petals of a dahlia under the shade of the tree. Yellow butterflies fluttered from the low-lying flower bushes, clustering around the halfling's shoulders, buttons, and palms.

"This is my last possession, a mundane thing that Tira can't take with her. You can take it. I'm going to find true freedom. I'm going to run to the ends of the earth, following behind that gentle fragrance..."

The halfling wandered aimlessly along the street, surrounded by clusters of yellow butterflies, lost and disoriented, following the direction of the drifting white clouds.

Where will he go? Marcus doesn't know.

Clearly, this fool has willingly fallen into the curtain of desire of the courtesan Tira, preparing to serve the goddess of pleasure. Hopefully, he won't get his ass kicked.

Therefore, it's better to be honest and straightforward, and not to fantasize about unrealistic things.

How to save an innocent woman who has gone astray?

Marcus is very experienced in this matter; Trish is an example.

He shouted at Lawson, who was about to disappear into the crowd, "So this yard is mine now?"

"Yes, this is your reward, Marcus Nolfitz. You rescued Tira from her misery, and no amount of praise can express my respect. You are a hero! A true tough guy!"

The halfling disappeared into the crowd, and Marcus felt a ding in his mind, noticing that a rare-level coupon had appeared in his account balance.

Instead of rushing to draw the prize, he looked around at the small courtyard that Lawson had given him after he vowed to become an ascetic.

Marcus pushed open the fence, stepped into the yard, and discovered a hidden world inside.

The courtyard was spacious, with a two-story living room, training hut, storage room and kitchen. In the center of the open space was a beautiful plantation built of brick and cherry wood, filled with withered onions, bay leaves, peppers and cassava.

But strangely, everything that was usable had disappeared.

Bed, bedding, firewood, food... The chili pepper plant was bare, without a trace of red. Even when Marcus pulled out a cassava vine, the edible parts buried in the soil mysteriously disappeared.

Desire... Perhaps Tira was the most bizarre member of last night's trio.

Grandmother Camilla uses illusions to satisfy her desires, the knight Hutt arouses her desires, and this courtesan may be the one who takes away her desires.

"That was terrifying. Luckily, I stuck to my principles and didn't go into the tent." Marcus looked at the quaint little courtyard, his mouth practically stretched to his ears in a grin.

He looked at the small cart under the awning and muttered, "Let's move. What does it matter to me where Lawson went? There are too many strange things in this godforsaken place. Asking questions will only cause trouble."

And so, Marcus pulled his little cart out of the yard and back to his home on the muddy road. He repeated Lawson's words to Trish, and then excitedly began packing his few belongings.

Trish frowned, finding the whole thing strange: "This could be a trap. That courtyard is cursed, and if we move in, some evil god will be after us."

"Even if that courtyard is cursed, Rivertown itself is a cursed place. Even the drow, who are naturally fond of fighting and betrayal, have laws, while we use cockfighting to solve problems." Marcus was overjoyed and told Trish to get off the bed quickly, as he was going to dismantle the bed frame.

"I'm serious. You can't underestimate any god; they always take pleasure in the suffering of mortals."

Marcus, dampened by the naturally calm Zhuo'er's enthusiasm, also admitted that making do was troublesome:

"Okay, let's talk about the current situation in detail. Right now, you're sleeping in the same room as me. Putting aside the strange rumors in town, which I believe you don't care about, you're starting to adapt to the surface environment. You need your private space, and so do I."

I'm not talking about those weird curses, safety concerns, or gods. Let's take the simplest example: how have you been taking showers this past month?

He dismantled the bed frame, his back to the silent Trish: "I know you secretly wipe your sweat off with a wet towel at night. Although I really want to open my eyes, you'll definitely stab me blind with a dagger..."

"You saw it?"

"What did you see? You're wiping your sweat under a cloak, who could see you?"