Chapter 744 (1/2)

Chapter 744: One Who Seeks a Revenge

Translator: TransN Editor: TransN

Thuram’s favorite activity was sitting on the second floor of a tavern and watching customers coming and going downstairs.

This was his tavern and his territory, so Thuram named it “Skull Cup” for his own preference and re-decorated it. He even hung a string of incomplete skulls at the entrance as the sign of the tavern.

However, it was not called this name five years ago.

“What was it called at that time?” Thuram wondered.

“Was it called Elf Forest… or Elf Garden? Anyway, it doesn’t matter now.” Thuram drank some spirits with fire lantern fruit in them, letting the hot taste flood his tongue. “Such a delicate name didn’t fit the bloodstained place, since there’s no elf or elf-like woman here but quite a lot of bones.”

After each battle, a pile of dead bodies would be left outside the Iron Sand City. He preferred bones, especially the skulls, which had been baked in hot sands, rather than perishable flesh.

First, the skulls were intimidating, so it would let troublemakers understand what kind of place this was.

Second, it indeed could hold wine, saving him from buying more wine glasses.

After all, the former did not work for everyone. There were always some idiots born with deformed brains who thought that they could treat everywhere like their own backyards and that their adversaries were no better than women who knew nothing but weeping. In a place where troublemakers appeared frequently, brittle pottery and glass were not ideal vessels.

Gazing at every customer was a habit that Thuram had developed in recent years. People who traveled in and out of this land were generally divided into three kinds: the half-dead ones, the moribund ones, and the dead ones—he preferred to distinguish people in this way rather than by their identities. The half-dead ones’ purpose of coming here was very simple, which was drinking, gambling, and women; as long as they maintained their current state, they could basically finish the rest of their journeys. The moribund ones were mostly watchdogs or challengers who came to inquire about the situation. They had already put their lives under the blades that would swing and behead them at any time.

As to the dead ones… they were undoubtedly the troublemakers.

Thuram’s attention was fixed on neither the half-dead ones nor the dead ones, for the former were very boring, and the latter gave him joy only when they were dying. It was the moribund ones he liked most because he could see in them a mirror image of his younger self.

At that time, he was just like them, holding a sharp knife in his hand and fighting in the bloodstained place, an admiring place for many clans, yet he always had his sights set on Iron Sand City.

His courage, audacity, and strength were being drained from him until one day someone replaced him as the new owner of the small oasis… He had to beg for a chance to survive. At last, he became part of the bloodstained place, yet he turned from the moribund one into the half-dead one during this alteration.

The moribund ones, though they had already placed their lives under the blades, still had the chance to skyrocket when the time came. They could break out of the cocoons or rise from the ashes. But the half-dead ones would never have this kind of opportunity. They could only seek some form of entertainment to comfort them for the rest of their lives.

Such as, watching the travelers who pass by these oases… who might perish in the sands or take over as the new owner of this place.

At this moment, one of his men pushed open the door, walked to him, and whispered in his ear.

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” Thuram was startled.