Chapter 567 - 504: Who Is the Real Prey?

Chapter 567: Chapter 504: Who Is the Real Prey?

At the same moment Roland’s gaze was locked onto the [Secret Imprisonment Dice], Holland’s negotiation with Ogre began.

Holland took a deep breath, suppressing his nervousness and disgust, and placed the bloodstained bundle in his hand onto the table in front of Ogre with a THUD.

A corner of the bundle came loose, revealing a few relatively intact pieces of goblin Leather Armor, two Hand Axes, and several crude coins.

"Ogre, here’s what I got on my last trip. Add in that Magic Staff I mentioned before, and sell it all. It’ll be more than enough to pay back what I owe you, principal and interest."

Holland did his best to keep his voice steady, staring straight into the Half-beastman’s light brown, beast-like eyes.

Ogre didn’t even glance down at the loot. He just slowly ran a thick finger over the leather-wrapped handle of his Hand Axe and let out a hoarse sneer.

"More than enough? My dear Holland, you seem to have misunderstood something."

He leaned forward slightly, and the stench—a mix of sweat, cheap wine, and a faint, feral musk—grew stronger.

"The interest on the money you borrowed isn’t calculated daily. It’s calculated based on ’my mood’."

"My boys have spent a lot of time and effort looking for you. These ’service fees’... well, naturally, they get added to your bill."

He named a number. It was so high that Holland’s face instantly paled.

"That’s impossible!"

Holland couldn’t stop his voice from rising, his fists clenched tight.

"This is daylight robbery!"

"Robbery?" Ogre cracked a grin, revealing yellowed teeth and tusks as if he’d just heard a hilarious joke.

"No, no, no. This is ’business.’ You borrow money, you pay it back. It’s the way of the world. And if you can’t pay..."

He dragged out the words, his flint-like eyes scanning Holland. They lingered for an extra moment on the simple Holy Emblem around the other man’s neck, and a cunning glint flashed in their depths.

"There are... other solutions."

Ogre leaned back, gently tapping the tabletop with the blade of his axe.

"A talented man like you... hmm, someone with ’special skills,’ wasting your days in the wilds messing with those little Green Skins... it’s a real waste. How about it? Come work for me. I’m in need of your kind of ’talent’."

"Just say the word, and not only will this debt be wiped clean, but there’ll be plenty of rewards for you down the line."

His goal was clear. The money was secondary. What he truly coveted were the "services" and symbolic value that the town’s only Priest could provide.

Holland’s expression darkened. He gritted his teeth, his tone resolute.

"Work for you? Ogre, your ’business,’ the things you and your men do... forcing good people into prostitution, smuggling illicit drugs, extortion... I don’t want to stand before the Holy Light one day with a blackened soul. This is not negotiable."

Hearing this, the false smile on Ogre’s face slowly vanished, replaced by an impatient coldness.

"Don’t know how to appreciate a favor, Holland. You think you still have a choice?"

He was about to apply more pressure when his nostrils suddenly twitched, an almost imperceptible movement.

His light brown eyes snapped toward the bundle Holland had placed on the table. His gaze was sharp as a knife, as if it could pierce right through the coarse cloth.

His sharp intuition, honed by years of dealing with all sorts of black market goods and forbidden items, had picked up on something: an extremely faint, yet unique, trace of Energy.

It was a fluctuation originating from the condensed bloodline of a powerful life form, one that carried chaotic and savage properties.

"Wait..."

Ogre raised a hand, cutting off the rebuttal that was about to leave Holland’s lips.

He leaned forward, his nose twitched again, and an undisguised, greedy light blazed in his eyes as he stared intently at the bundle.

"It seems... our good and honest Priest Holland was hiding something truly valuable. Didn’t feel like sharing it with your creditor, did you?"

His voice was low, yet it carried an even more dangerous undertone, like a Hyena that had discovered a hidden treasure.

"Hand... that... over. Now."

The moment the words left Ogre’s mouth, Holland knew what he was talking about.

It was the two dark-red Blood Crystals he had taken from the goblin.

His heart clenched. He subconsciously pressed a hand against his chest, over the spot where he had hidden the hard objects.

He glanced at the surrounding thugs. As Ogre’s attitude shifted, their gazes grew more hostile, their hands moving quietly to their weapons. But instead of showing any intention of producing the Blood Crystals, Holland straightened his back even more.

He tightened his grip on the handle of the Nail Head Hammer at his waist. His eyes narrowed as he met Ogre’s greedy and dangerous gaze, and he spoke in a clear voice.

"Sorry, Ogre. This... doesn’t belong to me. I’m just holding it for safekeeping. It can’t be used to pay my debt."

His words were resolute, leaving no room for negotiation.

Even in this dangerous situation, he subconsciously adhered to a certain principle.

The loot belonged to Rudolph. It had been obtained thanks to the other man’s strength and intervention. Holland had no right to use it to cover his own debts, and he certainly couldn’t hand it over to someone like Ogre.

Ogre froze for a second, then let out a sneer dripping with mockery and disbelief, as if he had just heard the most absurd thing in the world.

"Doesn’t belong to you? ’Holding it for safekeeping?’"

He slowly rose to his feet. His burly frame cast an even larger Shadow as he loomed over Holland, his coarse voice dripping with cold malice.

"Holland, I see you really... still don’t understand the situation you’re in, do you."

He gave a slight wave of his hand, not even bothering to give an explicit order.

The surrounding thugs moved at once.