Ch. 10 - How Can You Call Yourself an Adventurer Without Taking Risks?

Tang Qi was still singing his simple melody. His lute still hadn't been repaired, so there was only his dry voice. Fortunately, his vocal quality was decent—pleasant to the ear and passable as music. The common folk watching didn't understand why he'd suddenly started singing, but at least their ears weren't being polluted.

Jackal heard his lyrics clearly and recognized his voice. He immediately realized that this person who'd twice interrupted his execution was none other than last night's wandering bard. He couldn't help feeling irritated:

"You've obstructed me repeatedly. You really are her accomplice, aren't you?"

With that, he took a large stride and leaped down from the five-foot-high execution platform. Seeing Jackal's grim expression, his aggressive stride, and his chainmail clanging noisily, the common folk who knew this vicious dog's temperament all cleared a path for him, careful not to touch his sore spots.

As Jackal drew closer and closer, Tang Qi showed little fear. Instead, he looked toward Black Snake in the distance, who was yawning with complete disinterest:

"Daren, to conclude that a young girl could move a ton of starberries and hide them in an unknown location based solely on footprints and one person's testimony—isn't that a bit too far-fetched?

So why not investigate properly? If she's not the thief, she's still Catherine's sister after all... Having her hands cut off so unclearly would ultimately cause heartache. If she is guilty, as long as the evidence is laid out completely before Catherine, no one could criticize the punishment, right?"

Black Snake stretched languidly, but he'd heard clearly enough. It wasn't that he didn't understand these principles. The reason he hadn't acted on them was simply that he didn't think it worthwhile.

Tomorrow was the Harvest Festival. Rather than spend a whole day investigating the so-called truth—which might not even be discoverable in the end—it was better to just find a decent enough excuse to muddle through. It would save trouble and eliminate a future problem with Beastfolk—killing two birds with one stone.

So he'd intended to let it go in one ear and out the other, too lazy to bother with the bard's prattling. But somehow, Tang Qi's persuasion seemed to possess a magical quality. The words simply circled in his mind, sounding more and more reasonable the more he heard them.

The feeling was a bit like being stuck in a dungeon for half a year, finally coming out and negotiating a price with someone, then eagerly unbuckling your belt. Right at the critical moment, the other party suddenly demands a little extra—

Please, at such a crucial juncture, how could he possibly refuse?

For a moment, Black Snake actually began to consider it. From such a distance, no one noticed the faint pink mist swirling in Tang Qi's eyes.

**Friendship**—the cantrip he'd just obtained last night. The moment he'd acquired it, Tang Qi had understood instinctively how to use music to manipulate the ever-present Weave. He'd learned to weave it into specific forms with rhythm and melody, releasing it through song.

That was why he'd so abruptly burst into song. Right now, his voice was the only tool available to him—an essential component of spellcasting.

He could see that Jackal feared Black Snake—or more accurately, was terrified of him. Before taking action, Jackal would always subconsciously seek Black Snake's opinion, afraid of making Catherine unhappy and angering Black Snake, who admired Dawnbloom in the process.

Even though he was the nominal judge, as long as Tang Qi could convince Black Snake, Jackal wouldn't dare defy him. So he only needed to persuade Black Snake.

Though in one minute, Black Snake would realize he'd been influenced by magic—and however villainous these mercenaries were, they still operated by the rules. Otherwise they wouldn't have brought Anbi to the execution platform to enumerate her fabricated crimes.

Therefore, as long as he summarized his arguments elegantly enough, he needn't fear what they might do in front of so many witnesses.

"Ridiculous."

Tang Qi's little scheme was obvious, and Jackal could naturally see through it. But he'd sought approval three times now and always received tacit consent, so he certainly wouldn't hold back now—he'd bet Black Snake wouldn't stop him.

Time to teach this ignorant poet a proper lesson. Not because the man had embarrassed him, but because the bastard wasn't afraid of him.

Jackal had noticed this from the moment he'd grabbed the poet last night.

"You enjoy singing, don't you?" He grinned viciously, his sword-bearing right hand hanging naturally, almost dragging on the ground. He didn't want to use the sword. This was just a poet without the strength to truss a chicken—his glib tongue was his only asset, beyond which he was utterly worthless.

So Jackal would tear off that mouth, crush his vocal cords, and ensure he could never sing another note in his life—for wandering bards, stripping them of their voice was more painful and terrifying than death itself.

The moment to receive this fate wasn't far off. Just two steps, one step... He was right there!

Jackal suddenly raised his hand, fingers curved like talons, vicious force driving his arm forward. It even howled dully through the air—

"Tang Qi-gege!"

Anbi, locked in the cangue, couldn't help crying out. Even the common folk accustomed to Jackal's tyranny sighed in sympathy...

After all, these were mercenaries hired by the lord. Those seemingly gleaming swords had been splattered with countless people's blood. How dare a singing poet challenge Jackal?

Tang Qi remained relatively calm. The martial skills his predecessor had practiced had almost become muscle memory, and he'd just filled his stomach. As Jackal closed in, he'd been prepared for the attack.

Almost the instant the man drew near, he dodged aside—the vicious claw strike hit nothing but air!

"What—"

Jackal was shocked and furious, ready to attack again. Tang Qi noticed his sword hand, realizing the man truly intended to cut him down. But he also understood that Black Snake wouldn't give him that chance—

A sharp rebuke interrupted the brief clash:

"Then you investigate it."

Jackal reluctantly withdrew his force, looking toward Black Snake in confusion, his pupils dilating in surprise. He clearly hadn't expected Black Snake, who'd been tacitly approving everything, to suddenly change his mind and believe this wandering bard's slander.

Black Snake paid no attention to their earlier confrontation, as if nothing had happened. He simply walked forward slowly, grabbed Jackal's shoulder with one hand, and said calmly:

"Since you believe this matter has nothing to do with her, then you go find those stolen starberries. As long as you recover the starberries, I'll let bygones be bygones regardless of who the thief is."

Jackal was both flustered and frightened, his mouth feeling as uncomfortable as if it contained four pounds of horse shit:

"Boss..."

"Conversely, if you can't recover the starberries before the merchant caravan arrives tomorrow—I'll cut out your tongue, put you in a cangue, and have you follow the caravan to personally apologize to my employer."

Black Snake finally shed his languid expression. His sharp eyes narrowed slightly, like a giant python staring at its prey.

"Consider it your punishment for offending my subordinate."

Jackal felt like he hadn't spat out all the horse shit, but at least he felt much better. Only now did Tang Qi finally realize that the Black Snake before him was unlikely to be just an ordinary thug:

"Agreed, but please provide the assistance I'll need during the investigation."

"If you can recover the lost goods, everything's negotiable."

For Tang Qi, he didn't regret this outcome either. He'd originally wanted to help his little fan and try to uncover the truth about the entire theft, using it as content for his journal. All of this required Black Snake's support to proceed—

**Record stories, obtain rewards**. This phrase clearly didn't intend for Tang Qi to record mundane accounts of what he ate each day or how many songs he sang. It needed stories—real stories with narrative arcs.

To obtain stories and gain power, he'd inevitably have to put himself in danger. All he could do was minimize the risks as much as possible.

If he wasn't willing to take risks, how could he call himself an adventurer?

"Then please take me to the scene. I'd like to understand what happened again," he said.

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