Chapter 391 - 375: Riot

Chapter 391: Chapter 375: Riot

Witnessing this brutal scene, Roland was horrified.

Although he had long known that the Rock Kingdom practiced a strict caste system, he never expected its Royal Family members to trample on life so openly and contemptuously.

They were far worse than the human nobles he had seen in the Golden Valley Kingdom.

Even if those nobles committed filthy deeds in the shadows and exploited the common folk, they at least maintained a basic sense of decorum on the surface, using the law as a final fig leaf.

But this Dwarven royal named Balin... his level of wanton recklessness...

Gazing at the heads on the snow, still steaming slightly, and then at the numb-faced Dwarven commoners and soldiers who had all lowered their heads, Roland’s heart grew heavy.

’Judging by Balin’s conduct, this kind of arrogance, this treatment of life as if it were worthless, wasn’t developed in a day.’

’Oppressing their own people so unscrupulously... Don’t they ever worry that the resentment, accumulating day by day, will build up like magma deep underground, eventually breaking through everything and inciting a rebellion that could topple the entire Kingdom?’

This thought filled Roland with a vague sense of unease.

The atmosphere here was far too tense, like a volcano on the verge of erupting.

He turned and spoke in a low voice to his companions.

"It seems Furnace Stone Castle isn’t a suitable place to stop. Let’s keep moving and find a village along the way to spend the night before dark."

His companions, having witnessed the bloody scene just moments before, couldn’t agree more.

The Half-Elf, Hobbit, who had grown up in the relatively free and open lands of the River Domain, turned especially pale and nodded eagerly in agreement.

And so, Roland’s party passed straight through Furnace Stone Castle without stopping, leaving the suffocating place behind.

They didn’t find a place to rest until night had completely enveloped the mountains—a slightly dilapidated village.

Perhaps because it was far from the main mining tunnels, there were no signs of any Gray-skinned Dwarves in the village.

Quite the opposite, in fact. The place was overflowing with the rough, vibrant energy that Roland associated with Dwarven settlements.

Warm light shone from the windows of the low stone houses, and the air was filled with the rich aroma of ale and the savory scent of roasting meat.

In the center of the village square, a huge bonfire crackled, its leaping flames illuminating the ruddy faces of the Dwarves gathered around it.

They slammed massive mugs of ale together, sending foam flying.

A cacophony of gruff chatter, boisterous, drunken singing, and jeering laughter sparked by some outrageous boast echoed through the cold night air.

All of it stood in stark contrast to the cold, oppressive atmosphere of Furnace Stone Castle.

Seeing this lively scene, Roland, who had been on edge the entire way, finally began to relax.

He accepted a mug of ale from a passing Dwarf, nodding his thanks. Just as he was about to look for an inn, a hesitant, quiet call cut through the din.

"Mr. Roland...?"

The voice was gentle and clear, completely out of place amid the surrounding coarse clamor.

Roland followed the sound and saw a Dwarf sitting at a wooden table in the corner, looking somewhat detached from his surroundings.

He wasn’t taking part in the drinking or singing, but was simply sitting alone.

He was now raising his arm slightly, waving gently in Roland’s direction, a look of unconcealed excitement on his face.

"Noel?"

Roland studied the face and, after a moment’s thought, recognized him.

It was Noel, the Dwarf who worked the front desk at the Blacksmith Guild, whom he had met several times and who had once provided him with Secret Silver Shards.

A smile spread across Roland’s face at the thought of meeting an acquaintance in such a remote village in a foreign land. He beckoned to his companions and walked toward the corner table.

After leaning down to give the Dwarf a friendly hug, he asked,

"Noel, I never expected to see you here. What brings you back to the Rock Kingdom?"

Noel invited Roland and the others to sit before letting out a soft sigh.

"The situation in the River Domain has become unstable recently. I was worried I’d get caught up in unnecessary danger, so I thought it best to return home for a while to wait things out."

His tone shifted as he asked with a hint of confusion,

"So, Mr. Roland, what brings you here?"

"We’re just passing through. We’re on our way to Roaring Harbor to take care of some business."

Just then, a rather hurried voice cut in.

"Noel! Didn’t I tell you to stay home tonight and not go out?"

Everyone turned to see a Dwarf in a heavy, hooded cloak striding quickly toward them.

As he finished speaking, he finally noticed Roland’s party sitting across from Noel. The shadows under his hood shifted, revealing a wary expression.

"Humans?"

His voice was laced with obvious vigilance. His sharp gaze swept over Roland and his companions before turning to Noel.

"Who are these people?"

Noel immediately stood up and introduced them in a calm tone.

"Uncle, don’t be alarmed. This is the friend I’ve often told you about, the one I met in the River Domain, Mr. Roland."

He then turned to Roland.

"Mr. Roland, this is my uncle, Baric."

As Noel made the introduction, Roland used the dim, flickering light of the bonfire to get a clear look at the Dwarf’s face under the hood, and...

...at his grayish-white skin, which had a stone-like sheen.

Without a doubt, Baric was also afflicted with Stone Speech Syndrome.

But to Roland’s surprise, this Gray-skinned Dwarf was completely different from all the other afflicted individuals he had seen.

His speech and movements were fluid and natural, with no trace of numbness or slowness. But deep within his gray-white pupils, a profound, buried resentment flickered.

Roland keenly sensed, however, that this sharp, negative emotion wasn’t directed at them, the outsiders. It was more like a state of being that had long since settled into his very bones—something almost instinctual.

After hearing Noel’s introduction, Baric gave Roland’s party a slight nod, a gesture of greeting, before turning back to his nephew. His voice was low and urgent.

"Noel, it’s time to go back."

Noel nodded obediently, then turned to Roland and extended a sincere invitation.

"Mr. Roland, the village inn is both crude and noisy. If you don’t mind, please be my guest at my home. We have enough empty rooms for all of you."

Roland exchanged a look with his companions and nodded in agreement.

Baric said nothing, merely turning in silence and starting to walk, indicating for the others to follow.

The group quickly left the bustling square, heading up a quiet, stone-paved path to a stone house built against the side of the mountain.

Compared to the many rough and simple dwellings in the village, Noel’s home was quite refined.

The heavy oak door was inlaid with meticulously polished metal ornamentation, and the window frames were carved with a continuous pattern of mountains, indicating the family’s considerable wealth.

Stepping inside, Noel explained as he led the way.

"My parents went to Anvil Castle not long ago to visit my aunt. They won’t be back for some time, so the house is rather quiet."

He then efficiently arranged for Roland’s party to have several adjacent guest rooms.

"Please, make yourselves at home and get some rest."

Roland thanked him softly, then tied Black Wind to a post in the corner of the yard.

He carefully fed his old companion some beans and gently brushed its thick mane before turning back and re-entering the stone house.

He placed the still-sleeping Squirrel Qiao on a soft cloth cushion by his pillow, then lay down on the bed, which was covered with thick furs.

However, Baric’s strange expression and urgent insistence lingered in his mind, bringing a persistent sense of unease.

With all sleepiness gone, he sat up and, by the faint moonlight filtering through the window, opened the notebook on the "Source Core" that Morne had given him.

The parchment pages rustled at his fingertips as his thoughts began to drift.

After his life-and-death battle with Malcolm, his originally slow progress in the [Nameless Breathing Technique] had once again made a significant breakthrough. He was now infinitely close to the threshold of the Seventh Level.

’If Level Seven is the peak of this Breathing Technique, then that might be the best time for me to try and condense a Source Core.’

As for the [Ascetic Proverbs], the scroll suspected to be from an ancient Martial Monk lineage, he hadn’t slacked in his training during this time and had now stabilized at Level Three.

As his practice deepened, the searing Energy generated from forcibly squeezing out his potential became more and more apparent.

In the unseen depths of his training, he felt as if he had touched an invisible barrier.

’What kind of transformation will I undergo once I break through it?’

Just as he was lost in deep thought, a sudden clamor arose from outside.

It wasn’t close by; it sounded more like a commotion gathering from a distance.

Roland immediately focused his mind, moved silently to the window, and pushed open the heavy wooden shutters.

In the distance, on the horizon, in the direction of Stone Furnace Castle, a towering inferno was now raging.

The blaze was so fierce it looked like a blood-red beast that had broken its chains, madly devouring the night sky and searing the deep darkness into an eerie, bright daylight.

The searing light even illuminated their village, casting flickering shadows across his face.