Chapter 56: Battlefield Situation
Fisher looked down at the name engraved on the handbook for a long time. Besides knowing the “codename” of the author who left behind this Supplement Handbook for Sub-Humans, there was nothing else.
The only thing he could be certain about now was that there was more than one handbook, and the person who created them was certainly not from this world. He might get more information from Cal’s Soul Supplement Handbook later, but that required Fisher to have strong soul energy; after all, others couldn’t see these handbooks, and he couldn’t ask Renee for help.
Feilon’s words left for Fisher before his death were also quite intriguing. When he was dying, he handed over the handbook. At that time, Fisher was not the owner of the Soul Supplement Handbook but saw the handbook itself. He even advised himself not to tear these handbooks apart; otherwise, they would be reborn elsewhere.
These magical tools are filled with secrets, just like the legendary murals engraved on stone walls.
Feimabaha Dragon Court, how long ago was that in history?
Hundreds of years? Thousands of years?
Fisher closed both Supplement Handbooks this time, placing one on the left and one on the right, to avoid the earlier situation of them repelling each other.
He temporarily set aside the questions he hadn’t fully studied yet. He had already gained a lot today and didn’t intend to continue.
He turned around and studied the map. After leaving Feilon City, he was not far from his final destination, Krit Port. If the carriage traveled quickly, it would take two or three days to arrive.
Fisher stepped out of the carriage. He realized he had been sitting inside for several hours. His wounded body started to ache again, so he decided to get some fresh air. The dragon men were all asleep, and the sun outside was gradually setting, casting an orange hue on the clouds, reminiscent of oranges.
Seeing that they still showed no signs of waking up, Fisher prepared to go back into the carriage to take out the supplies he had stocked up in Feilon City for dinner. Those supplies were locked in the fourth room, which is why they hadn’t been opened for use that morning, so they had randomly hunted outside and roasted what they caught.
Apart from the supplies, the fourth room also housed some weapons, such as firearms and meat saws. He took out the meat he had bought, then went to get the fire pit and pot, preparing to make a dish that met Saint Nali’s standards for dinner, though it wasn’t for the dragon men; it was for himself.
The dragon men only needed to eat meat. He still needed some vegetables and fruits to follow their diet.
After setting up the fire pit for dinner outside, Raphael had just finished changing her clothes; she could only put on rough linen clothes as the dress Fisher had given her had gotten dirty. She had just washed up and re-cleaned it, and it would be usable again soon because the dragon men’s bodies were very hot, allowing that clothing to dry quickly over the sleeping Ral.
Why was Ral sleeping so soundly?
“What are you doing?”
Raphael glanced at the vegetable soup simmering in the pot in front of Fisher, instinctively furrowing her brows as if she could smell the scent of vegetables in the air.
“I’m making soup. Vegetables can provide some essential nutrients for humans, though I’m not sure if you dragon men need them,” Fisher said while stirring, suddenly remembering something as he spoke to Raphael, “By the way, how is your Nali language study going?”
Raphael sat by the fire pit, hugging her knees, cleared her throat, and spoke,
“Respected Mr. Fisher, may I have the honor to ask you to dance? Your graceful figure reminds me of the lotus flowers in a pond under the moon, so elegant, so beautiful.”
Fisher glanced sideways at the proud Raphael, then stirred the soup in the pot.
“Pronunciation: 60%, Vocabulary: 90%, Grammar: 80%, Common Knowledge: 0%.”
“Huh? Why?”
“That’s a phrase for a man asking a woman to dance; you’re a woman, you reversed it.”
“Who knows why you humans dance? We prefer to call people down to duel during our banquets.”
“Tradition, let’s respect it.”
Though he was ruthless with his words, he was still amazed by Raphael’s absurd learning ability; mastering a language in just over a month was impressive.
“Keep it up; you’re learning quickly.”
“I can read your writing, but some pronunciations are strange, and I still can’t speak very well.”
Fisher curled the corners of his mouth, aware of her desire to prove herself, but just as he was about to speak, he seemed to notice something. Raphael was also looking in the same direction as him.
“Who?!”
In that direction, it was quiet, only a bit of rustling in the grass. Raphael stood up and leaped towards that side. As she dove into the bushes, she heard some crying. Moments later, Raphael emerged, holding a boy covered in fluffy hair, with a pair of spiraled horns on his head.
Her expression was peculiar as she said to Fisher,
“It’s a child of the sheepkin race.”
The boy felt a bit fearful being suspended in the air. He immediately spotted Fisher sitting by the fire and, of course, noticed the delicious soup in the pot. The enticing aroma made his throat swallow, but he quickly looked down due to fear.
Raphael set him down on the ground, and he immediately crawled, timidly stuttering to Fisher,
“Sorry, please, spare me.”
The language seemed very rough for this sheepkin child, and he couldn’t even pronounce it correctly.
Raphael couldn’t understand his words, but Fisher understood and explained it to Raphael,
“He’s speaking Shivali. He must be one of the subhumans fleeing from the war initiated by the lords of Shivali.”
Looking at the lively-eyed sheepkin child, Fisher suddenly recalled something interesting.
Many male nobles in Shivali have tendencies for boy love. It’s said that many nobles like to raise young boys at home, and during their years of expansion in the Southern Continent, many slave traders discovered that the sheepkin boys looked lively and attractive after being shorn, leading to a large-scale trade of sheepkin boys to Shivali.
The fact is that those merchants struck gold. Soon, the sheepkin boys became the most fashionable trend among the nobles there, with every male noble in Shivali raising them, and sometimes they would gather to throw parties and such.
All humans in the Western Continent look down on subhumans, treating them as livestock. Even female subhumans would not appear in the female academy, and they are mostly used as servants. However, Shivali nobles have single-handedly broken this prejudice. Whether to admire them or not, Fisher couldn’t judge. He just scooped another bowl of soup and turned to ask in Shivali,
“Where are you from? Is anyone with you?”
However, the boy just stared blankly at Fisher, not daring to move. His hooves behind him were trembling incessantly, seemingly very scared of him.
It appeared he had only learned a few human words to escape. Fisher scooped another bowl of soup and placed it in front of him. The sheepkin was initially very cautious, but hunger no longer allowed him to endure. He glanced at Fisher, then embraced the bowl of soup and drank eagerly, even if it burned his mouth, he drank it all, not daring to let a single drop go to waste.
“The subhuman war has failed. It seems that many are likely migrating this way. We’ll leave here early tomorrow and continue north.”
Raphael looked at the sheepkin child who was crawling and chewing the vegetable leaves, then raised her head to look at the setting sun in the distance, where a large number of flying birds were startled to flee. Who knew what was happening at the center of the battlefield?
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(The end of this chapter)
