Warriors will die if they charge.

When Marcus shared the clues he found on the map with the team and expressed his intention to confront the snake people, Trish put on a stern face and stared at the gamblers who were about to strike it rich:

"You'd go head-to-head with snake people for thirty gold coins? Are you crazy?"

"Let's take a gamble. Anything that the snake people are eyeing must be very valuable. What do you say, dwarf brother?"

Bardin chewed on his pipe and pondered for a while. He was certainly willing to see what the snake man was looking for, but Trish's attitude was also important. She possessed a keen insight that the two tough guys lacked.

The mixed-race drow seemed to care a lot about Marcus, his eyes always darting towards his healed arm, so he probably wouldn't run away easily if danger came his way.

But persuading women is such a troublesome task; let the tough guys handle it. I don't want to get involved.

The dwarf put down his pipe and mumbled his opinion: "Well, who wouldn't want to see the treasures hidden in the rainforest? But the snake people are really dangerous. These cunning reptiles aren't goblins you can just crush with a finger."

"So we're going." Marcus nodded, ignoring the violent trembling of Zhuo'er's twin swords, cleared his throat twice, and began a new round of leadership remarks:

"The plan is this: I'll wake everyone in the camp later, and they'll definitely be eager to beat me up. I observed earlier that the water snake people hardly react to provocations. These comical clowns will blindly follow the crowd and pretend to be something they're not. Bardin will stand next to me and shout, and Trish..."

He glanced at Zhuo'er, who was about to breathe on her breath; the red light in her big eyes could have skinned him alive.

"Find a safe spot to keep watch, and shoot an arrow if you see anything suspicious."

Trish's high breasts, constricted by her sleeveless blouse, heaved several times as she closed her eyes with difficulty and took deep breaths to calm herself.

Whether it was searching for the snake man or provoking the adventurers in the camp, Marcus's plans were utterly absurd.

She gritted her teeth and said, word by word:

"Then why don't you just mock the snake people? There are over eighty adventurers in the camp. Provoking everyone could get you killed."

"Because it feels so good."

"Hmm?" Trissy asked in confusion, opening her eyes to see Marcus's smug expression.

He raised his light beer, clinked glasses with Bardin, took a sip, and exclaimed how delicious it was.

"It feels really good when you insult someone and they have to thank you in the end."

Marcus glanced at Jenny, who had a furrowed brow: "You're right, aren't you, you idiot?"

"You're the fool, your whole family are fools!!! I'm the future Archmage! Roar, my wrath, hellfire!"

A comical magic trick flew past their shoulders, and after discussing the plan, they decided to act that night.

This wasn't Marcus's idea; the initial 1.0 version was to immediately start mocking the snake hunters.

But Trish grabbed his arm, led him to a corner of the hall, put her hands on her hips, and said without the slightest embarrassment, with a matter of course:

"The sunlight is too bright during the day, and I can't see clearly with my infrared vision."

Marcus stared in surprise at the expressionless Zhuo Er, whose eyes flashed with murderous intent, and muttered, "No wonder you always seemed like a fool at first, running into pillars like that..."

The gambler was beaten badly, and Zhuo Erha's angry punches and kicks made him sigh, as if he had raised a black cat that said one thing but meant another.

-

Three adventurers arrived today, increasing the probability of them being monsters from one in ninety to one in ninety-three, which put him in a bad mood. In the afternoon, he spent a lot of money on a fresh iguana and ate it with gusto.

His companion, Peggy, was a bard who always liked to sing in a splendid style to boost morale. In the past, the bard was the most active fellow in the group. Whenever they arrived at a new place, he would visit the lovely ladies and learn some beautiful notes.

But ever since the mysterious deaths of her two companions, Peggy has become silent, no longer enjoys singing, and even the notes she plays on her lute have become dull and lifeless.

Azaquil wanted to say something, to ask Peggy, who was leaning against the wall in deep thought, to sing a song, but when he opened his lips, only a silent sigh came out:

"Sigh, let's chat for a bit, Peggy, it's been so long since we last talked..."

"You bunch of cowardly cowards hiding in your rooms! You're not even afraid of a water ghost or snake-man? If a water ghost could turn into a human, the first person it would turn into would be your wives. Anyway, none of you have the guts to lift the covers and see if there's a fish inside!"

The man's rough shouts ripped open the thin walls, like a flood pouring into the listeners' eardrums.

Azaquie sat bolt upright in bed, his confusion preceding his anger. He grabbed the longsword lying beside the bed: "Who? Has someone found the monster?"

Before he could figure out the situation, the man's voice came into the room again.

"Did I say something wrong? Of the eighty-seven of you, who dares to pat their chest and say that I slept like a log last night? No one, right? Every night you're all listening intently for any sound from the door, afraid that when you open your eyes you'll see a strange face buried next to your pillow."

"You fool peeking through the crack in the door, that sword of yours is practically rusted into jagged edges. Are you planning to use it to slay a water ghost or scare away rats? If you encounter a monster tonight, I suggest you put on your knee pads, kneel down, and lick its cunt, then call it 'daddy.' Maybe it'll think you're pretty good and let you go!"

Azaquie subconsciously looked at the sword in his hand, the fine steel longsword that had accompanied him through many adventures. He spent time maintaining it every day, keeping its surface spotless and its blood groove smooth.

In the dim light of the room, the light seemed to be distorted by the sound, his sword became rusty, and his tongue began to slide unconsciously, as if he were really giving the monster a blowjob.

"Damn it! I want to see who's talking!"

"etc!"

Peggy raised her hand to stop him, but Azaquie shoved her away.

In the camp, which resembled a broken pine needle, came countless curses and the sound of doors slamming. People rushed out of their dwellings with swords and sticks in hand, and soon at the entrance of the union, they saw a strange man holding a large tin megaphone.

Marcus, holding a megaphone made of sheet metal, continued to broadcast his message to the enraged crowd:

"There are invisible enemies lurking among us, and all you do is cower in your houses. It's a fucking disgrace! Look at you, wielding swords and axes like tough guys, but you're just a bunch of hairy goblins!"

Bardin stood to the side, like a lackey, waving his fist and shouting, "Yeah, hairy goblins!"

The long-suppressed atmosphere in the camp, ignited by the extreme stench of the tongue-borne grand gesture, provided an outlet for people's emotions. Azaquie roared, sword raised:

"Cut him down!"

The crowd surged toward Marcus, but he couldn't bear to see so many warriors die in the charge, so he had no choice but to retreat, muttering some witty remarks as he did so.

"Come and chop me up! I'm just waiting for you guys to lick my boots and call me daddy!"

Azaqui slapped the stunned Peggy on the back and roared at his teammate in a fit of rage:

"What are you waiting for?! Go for it!"