Let go of that monster girl!

It would be hard for anyone not to panic sitting on such a cobbled-together flying coffin, floating more than 500 meters above the ground and ready to explode at any moment.

Molen glanced at the ground receding into the distance below and silently swallowed.

The mouse girl is small and light, making it easy for her parachute to open.

As long as the core of a Lemite is intact, it can be reassembled even if it is broken.

As for Moran, although he considers himself a strong athlete, falling from that height would probably result in more than just bruises.

It would be great if I could recruit a flying monster girl.

The flying mice busily operated various valves and levers, making the propellers spin faster and faster, and the airship continued to rise under their control.

The navigation mouse held a small fluorite pendant, illuminating a wind map that didn't have much content drawn on it.

The data above only shows wind direction at a few altitudes near the low mountain; large areas remain blank.

Operating an airship is like maneuvering a sailboat; it requires the crew to have a deep understanding of monsoons and currents, and finding the right wind path is key to fast navigation.

It was clear that only one or two of the flying rats had previously sailed a boat, and none of them had systematically studied the wind path near the low hill.

Fortunately, the wind direction was stable in the dark area, and the mice were lucky enough to find a suitable height after a short time.

The airship's triangular sail unfurled, and the entire vessel steadily flew northward.

Darkness surged in from all directions.

Looking down from 500 meters above, the dark zone is a pure black field, with only a few lights remaining on the low hills that are getting farther and farther away behind.

Molen stretched out his hand, feeling the wind high in the sky flow through his fingertips, cool and dry, and surprisingly, it was quite pleasant.

Lyme lay on the gunwale, his bangs fluttering slightly in the wind, looking down curiously.

Molen walked over and leaned against her.

"See that slightly flatter area? It used to be a village of rat girls called Mill Village. Every morning, a rat girl would climb up to the top of the windmill and sing to wake everyone up. Everyone called her Big Ben."

Lem turned his head and listened attentively.

"And over there, a little further north, there used to be an inn run by a catgirl. Their signature dish was grilled fish cakes, and passing caravans would always make a special detour to eat there."

The interesting story made Lyme's lips curl into a slight smile.

But it only lasted for a short while.

"So they're all dead now?" Lyme whispered.

"That's impossible."

Molen replied with a smile, pointing to the navigation mouse in front of him that was controlling the steering wheel.

"Hey, Big Ben."

"Hahaha." The flying mice heard this and turned around, bursting into laughter. The female mouse in front of the helm shyly covered her ears.

Listening to the laughter of the rat girls, Morren leaned against the ship's railing, looking up at the dark sky above.

The night breeze was cool, and he pulled his collar tighter and yawned.

She pulled down slightly, and her breathing soon calmed down.

A pair of tiny mouse-like hands rested on Moren's shoulders, shaking him vigorously to wake him up.

"Huh? We've arrived so quickly."

Molen yawned, his eyes not fully open yet.

Lyme, who had fallen asleep in his arms at some point and was covered with a dirty blanket, was also awakened and rubbed his eyes with his little hands.

"Your Excellency, look down there!"

Molen leaned on the gunwale to stand up and looked down at the ground below.

A winding procession moved slowly in the darkness, its outline barely discernible in the gloom.

They were a group of refugees, all sorts of beast girls dragging their mutilated bodies across the wilderness.

There was a dog girl with a broken leg leaning on a tree branch, a goat girl with her festering eyes covered by a strip of cloth, and a lizard girl being half-dragged and half-pulled forward by her companions.

There were also a few small figures, their races indistinguishable and wrapped in tattered cloth, crammed onto a wheelbarrow that was about to fall apart.

The entire group had no guards, no weapons, and moved at a speed barely faster than a snail.

?

It's normal for there to be elderly, weak, sick, and disabled refugees, but how come they are all elderly, weak, sick, and disabled?

Without time to think, Morren looked behind the refugees.

A black wave is rapidly approaching.

A small swarm of beasts, twenty or thirty chimeras of varying sizes, ran through the darkness.

Their speed far exceeds that of the disabled refugees, and the distance is rapidly closing!

"Your Excellency, they're about to be caught!"

"Fly over there! Lower your altitude."

Molen gave the order decisively.

The propellers whirred and spun faster, and the airship changed direction, flying towards the refugee column.

"Your Excellency! Should we throw the copper ingots from the cargo crates down to smash them? And pull the refugees up?"

"It's too late."

Molen reached into the corner of the cabin and grabbed a copper hammer used for maintenance, weighing it in his hand.

He then stepped onto the gunwale, grabbed the rope with his left hand to steady himself, and held the copper hammer in his right hand, aimed, and swung.

Throw!

The copper hammer flew out of his hand, carrying a gravitational potential energy of over four hundred meters, and crashed down!

In the next instant, the head of the leading chimera was struck squarely by the bronze hammer that fell from the sky. The entire head shattered instantly under the astonishing kinetic energy, with bone fragments and brain matter flying in all directions.

Its massive body tumbled forward, and the surrounding chimeras roared wildly, all looking up and stopping in their tracks.

Lyme and the flying rats turned on the glowstone lampshades and waved them vigorously on the ship's side, the light firmly attracting the attention of the entire horde.

The chimeras abandoned the group of refugees who were paralyzed with fear ahead and instead rushed toward the ball of light in the sky.

Chapter 33 Slave Traders

Monsters in lightless areas naturally have a tendency to chase light.

Once attacked, Chimeramon will fall into a painless and irrational rage.

The combination of these two factors means that for travelers in the dark zone, an encounter with a pack of beasts would almost certainly result in a deadly battle, leaving them covered in blood.

Almost.

This time it's not.

Moren sat on the gunwale, a hemp rope dangling from his hand, with a fluorite lantern hanging from the end of the rope, swaying in mid-air.

The airship drifted along with the wind, moving at a steady pace.

Their speed was just a tiny bit faster than the herd of beasts below.

Below, a swarm of Chimera Beasts chased after them, mouths agape and howling wildly at the sky, like a pack of huskies caught on a ham hook.

Of course, they can fight, but Morren isn't a mindless chimera.

There's no benefit in going head-to-head with these monsters; even if there are spoils, he won't be able to take them back.

Let's just keep fishing for these monsters.

You can see it, smell it, but you can't bite it—it'll drive you crazy!

Whenever the beasts below slowed down a little, he would grab a wrench, a cup, or other odds and ends from the surrounding area and throw them down, causing the chimeras below to howl and desperately accelerate to chase after the airship.

The flying mice lay on the ship's side, staring in disbelief as Moron leisurely flirted with them.

Molen glanced at them, and the rats quickly shrank back and returned to their posts.

After a while, the navigation mouse timidly raised its hand:

"Your Excellency, it's not a good idea for those Chimera Beasts following us like this. What should we do?"

This is a problem.

But Morren didn't think it was a problem.

“Just leave it alone.” Morren spread his hands, revealing a rather wicked smile.

"The wind direction is just right. Let's keep flying and take these chimeras directly to the slave trader camp."

Theoretically, turning off the glowstone lantern and then rising as high as possible would get rid of the Chimera Beast, but this could cause the horde to turn back and continue attacking the refugees.

Alternatively, Morren could pick up a few copper ingots from the cargo box and use their gravitational potential energy to name each of the Chimera Beasts below; there would only be about twenty or thirty of them anyway.

But copper ingots are very valuable; it's easy to throw them away but difficult to retrieve them.

It would be better to just pull the monsters and let the slave trader fight them.

A caravan that came from afar from the low mountains was just unlucky, with an unexpected herd of beasts chasing after it. This kind of development is quite normal, isn't it?

Molen wasn't worried at all that the foxes couldn't defeat this small herd of beasts.

If they couldn't handle these kinds of people, they wouldn't be able to run a dirty business in the dark zone.

He wasn't even worried about angering the fox.

Those profit-driven bastards only need to show off the copper ingots on the ship, and even if you slap the fox-woman merchant, she'll still smile and offer her other cheek.

"Uh, as expected of an idea from the Baron."

The airship moved forward steadily, its airbags swaying slightly in the night breeze.

In the far distance ahead, the lights of the new market were already faintly visible. Morren raised his monoculars and observed carefully.

The new market was incomparable in scale to the previous slave camps; tents were densely packed together, and buildings sprang up from the ground.

The entertainment venue under construction was only half-built, but it was already brightly lit and bustling with activity.

The caravans stretched out in long lines, with livestock laden with goods and travelers mingling together.

The lanterns and campfires illuminated the entire camp, creating a lively and bustling atmosphere.

Molen frowned.

It seems there's no problem.

But something seems off.

He thought for a while and suddenly realized the source of the incongruity.

Such a bright, large settlement, without walls or watchtowers.

There were no city defense facilities whatsoever!

The market, which was as bright as day, was like a dining table that had inexplicably appeared in a dark forest, with a little girl lying on it.

It's indescribably eerie.

"Baron, look! There are more refugees on the right!" the flying rat shouted, pointing to the right.

Molen turned his binoculars, and another group of refugees heading to the new market appeared in the viewfinder.

Just like the previous group, various beast girls, dragging their mutilated bodies, staggered across the wilderness.

In the darkness further away, several smaller groups of refugees could be vaguely seen, scattered across the open field, all moving toward the lights of the new market.

Oh no, there are refugees too!

The airship was followed by a Chimera Beast!

Seeing the situation suddenly change, Morren quickly looked down.

But then they saw the Chimera Beasts, who had been roaring wildly just moments before, slow down one by one as they gazed at the light of the settlement on the distant horizon, and finally all of them stopped in their tracks.

They hunched their necks, tucked their tails between their legs, and let out fearful whimpers.

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