35: Chapter 35 Unfair Competition and Fair Contract

The air was damp and warm, thick with the scent of earth and humus.

A few nameless flying insects buzzed annoyingly around Levi's head, which he waved away impatiently.

The ground beneath his feet was excessively soft, sinking nearly half his ankle with each step, his boots quickly caked in black muck.

The entrance to this forest served as the natural barrier for the 'Swift Fang' half-orc tribe and their ancestral hunting grounds.

Not far ahead, beneath a giant tree that would take ten men to encircle, the atmosphere was as heavy as the sky before a storm.

Shadow Claw, the mightiest warrior of the Swift Fang tribe and its current chieftain, fixed his bell-like eyes intently on Levi.

Standing over two and a half meters tall, his knotted muscles resembled granite carvings, his skin a coarse gray-green. Two tusks protruding from his mouth gleamed with a stark white light in the dappled forest shadows.

Behind him stood dozens of similarly tall and robust half-orc warriors, clutching crude stone axes and bone spears.

Fifty sacks of salt and a hundred iron axes brought by Levi were piled in the clearing between the two parties.

For the half-orcs, this was a rich gift, enough to launch a small-scale war.

Yet Shadow Claw felt not a shred of joy, only insulted anger.

"Human, put away your tricks," Shadow Claw's voice rumbled low like stones grinding in his throat, each word vibrating. "The Swift Fang tribe needs no charity from you. You wish to pass through our lands? Fine. Follow the law of the forest: defeat me."

He pointed a thick thumb at himself, then gestured towards the deep, shadowy forest behind him.

"We'll have a race. From here, cross the 'Rotting Marsh' ahead, and reach the 'Homesick Stone' on the other side. Whoever arrives first, wins. If I win, you and your people never set foot in the Gray Mist Forest again. If you win..." He grinned, revealing a cruel smile. "...you can step over my corpse, and this path is yours."

The smile on Levi's face didn't falter in the slightest.

They recognized only one logic—the logic of the strong.

"Chieftain, you misunderstand," Levi spoke unhurriedly, his voice clear and calm, utterly unshaken by the other's imposing presence. "I have no intention of making an enemy of you, nor of challenging your authority. I merely wish to prove that Blackstone Territory can offer the Swift Fang tribe something of greater value than salt and iron axes."

He turned slightly, revealing Evelyn, who had been standing silently behind him.

"Therefore, for this competition, Blackstone Territory will be represented by my Chief Operating Officer, Miss Evelyn."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the surrounding half-orc warriors erupted into raucous laughter.

They looked Evelyn up and down without restraint—her purple eyes, those strange crystal lenses, and that tight black dress utterly unsuited for running through a forest.

A delicate woman?

A succubus who looked as if a strong wind could topple her?

Competing against their chieftain in crossing a marsh?

This wasn't a competition; it was a joke!

Shadow Claw's face instantly darkened. He felt his honor had been insulted in an unprecedented way.

"Human, you seek death!" he growled, taking a step forward that seemed to make the very ground tremble.

"No, Chieftain. I merely wish to make this competition more 'fair,'" Levi extended a hand, halting the other's advance. "You possess intimate knowledge of this forest and unparalleled strength. We, however, possess 'knowledge' you are unfamiliar with. This is precisely a contest between 'experience' and 'knowledge.'"

He paused, emphasizing his next words. "Moreover, the stakes must change. If Miss Evelyn loses, these supplies, and I myself, are yours to dispose of as you wish. But if she wins, I do not want your life, nor your land. I only want the Swift Fang tribe to become partners with Blackstone Territory, to become the Chief Executive Officer of our 'High-Speed Logistics Department.' With a salary and dividends, of course."

Chief Executive Officer? Salary? Dividends?

These unfamiliar terms plunged Shadow Claw and his tribesmen into deep confusion.

Yet Levi's composed confidence and the wager of "disposing of him personally" stirred Shadow Claw's combative heart.

In his view, this was merely the cunning human playing with word tricks he didn't understand. The essence of the competition remained unchanged.

A woman could not possibly defeat him. He could navigate this forest blindfolded.

"Fine! I agree!" Shadow Claw bellowed gruffly, fearing the other might back out. "Let the entire forest witness how laughable your human 'knowledge' truly is!"

With Shadow Claw's earth-shaking roar, the competition began.

Like a beast coiled to strike, the muscles in his legs exploded with power. He transformed into a gray-green blur, instantly vanishing into the dense woods ahead.

Each step landed on solid roots or rocks; his familiarity with the terrain was instinctual. After a few flashes of movement, he disappeared into the thick mist.

However, Evelyn, as Levi's champion, did something that left all the half-orcs utterly dumbfounded.

She didn't give immediate chase. Instead, unhurriedly, she retrieved a roll of oilcloth-wrapped parchment from her leather briefcase and carefully unfolded it.

It was a map.

A high-precision geological survey map of the Rotting Marsh area, painstakingly drawn over two days and nights by a temporary exploration team led by Monica, risking their lives to complete it overnight.

The map was densely marked with various symbols and contour lines in different colored inks.

It indicated where seemingly flat ground hid deadly deep quagmires, areas emitting toxic miasma, concealed underground caverns, and even recent minor geological shifts due to rain erosion, specially marked in fresh red ink.

Evelyn adjusted the crystal lenses on her nose bridge. Her purple eyes swiftly scanned the map, her brain processing like a precision instrument, plotting an optimal route within seconds.

Then, and only then, did she set off. She didn't choose the seemingly direct path Shadow Claw had taken, but instead headed towards a rocky slope to the left that appeared more rugged and required a significant detour.

Her pace wasn't fast, but it was exceptionally steady. Each step landed precisely on a safe point marked on the map, her posture as elegant as a stroll through a garden.

Deep in the forest, Shadow Claw's progress began to falter.

He stepped into a mud pit that submerged his knees. The sensation underfoot made him frown.

Something was wrong. This used to be a shallow puddle. Why was it so deep today?

He struggled to pull his leg free, bringing up a clump of foul-smelling black mud, sticky as some living thing, sapping his strength considerably.

He had to change his route, attempting to bypass this abnormal mire.

But not far ahead, a faint mist with a sweet, metallic scent drifted towards him.

It was "Slumber Miasma"!

He immediately held his breath and retreated swiftly.

Damn it! The reach of this miasma had also expanded beyond memory!

The 'experience' he relied on, passed down for centuries, was failing at an unprecedented rate in this marsh with its recent, frequent geological activity.

Those once-reliable shortcuts had now become deadly traps.

He was like an experienced old captain sailing in uncharted waters with obsolete maps, each step fraught with uncertainty.

In contrast, Evelyn's progress was unnervingly smooth.

The map in her hand was the 'standard answer' to this death marsh.

She followed a solid rock path along the hillside, easily bypassing the deep mud zone that troubled Shadow Claw.

Based on the wind direction and terrain marked on the map, she predicted the Slumber Miasma's drift range and passed calmly from the upwind side.

She even utilized several fallen giant trees marked on the map, spanning the marsh, turning what would have been a muddy trek into an easy 'log bridge' crossing.

Her physical exertion was minimized. Though not fast, she never stopped, never took a single wasted step.

The finish line of the race, the 'Homesick Stone,' was a massive black rock standing at the marsh's edge.

When Evelyn arrived, the sun had not yet begun its descent.

She calmly set down her briefcase, retrieving from it flint, a small packet of dry tinder, and even a piece of spiced, pre-marinated meat wrapped in oiled paper.

She skillfully built a small campfire, skewered the meat on a branch, and set it to roast over the flames.

Soon, the sound of sizzling fat dripped onto the fire, and the rich aroma of roasting meat began to permeate the damp air.

Much later, heavy footsteps and ragged panting echoed from the distant woods.

Shadow Claw finally appeared.

He was in an utterly wretched state.

Caked from head to toe in black mud as if dredged from the swamp, his rough hide vest was torn in several places, revealing bloody scratches from poisonous vines beneath.

Leaning on a makeshift branch crutch, he limped forward, each step laborious, his chest heaving violently from sheer exhaustion.

When he saw the familiar Homesick Stone, a flicker of triumphant joy lit his eyes, only to be extinguished the next second by the sight of the leisurely burning campfire and the elegant figure beside it, calmly turning a meat skewer.

The aroma of roasting meat wafted into his nostrils, a silent mockery.

He had lost.

Lost so completely, so incomprehensibly.

He couldn't understand how this woman, who looked like she couldn't even lift an axe, had traversed that death marsh—which had nearly claimed him—unscathed and with such apparent ease.

This wasn't a failure of speed or strength. It was his pride, the tribe's lifeblood—'experience' and 'honor'—being subjected to a dimensional attack by a force he couldn't comprehend.

"It seems the competition is over," Levi's voice sounded aptly from the nearby woods.

He stepped out leisurely, that gentle smile still on his face as if everything had gone exactly as planned.

He walked up to Shadow Claw, who was stunned speechless, unrolled an identical map, and held it before the chieftain's eyes.

"This is not magic, Chieftain," Levi explained, pointing to the precise markings on the map. "This is science. Cartography. The truest recording and analysis of the world. Accurate information and correct route planning are far more efficient than blind brute force. This is the value of the 'knowledge' Blackstone Territory can provide you."

Shadow Claw stared fixedly at the map, his mind racing to comprehend this thing beyond his understanding.

He saw the mud pit he'd stumbled into, marked as an 'extremely dangerous' deep red zone. He saw the miasma he'd encountered, marked with a skull symbol.

This thin piece of parchment was like the eyes of a deity, seeing through all the marsh's secrets.

Levi didn't give him much time to think. He took from Evelyn a contract, already prepared and written on both hide and human paper.

"The bravery and strength of the Swift Fang warriors are assets recognized throughout the Northern Frontier. But these assets should not be limited to hunting and guarding. They can create greater value."

Levi presented the contract to Shadow Claw.

"This is our cooperation agreement. I appoint you, Chieftain Shadow Claw, as the Chief Executive Officer—the 'CEO'—of Blackstone Territory's Logistics and Transport Department. Every warrior of the Swift Fang tribe will become a formal employee of our Logistics Department. You will no longer be savages receiving charity, but a respected, professional transport team with stable compensation."

Shadow Claw instinctively took the contract. His gaze was drawn to the clear terms.

It not only explained concepts like 'fixed salary,' 'performance bonus,' and 'timely dividends' using pictures and symbols the half-orcs could understand, but also outlined future provisions for building sturdier stone dwellings for the tribe and providing medical care.

This contract contained no trace of enslavement or oppression. Between the lines, it treated his people as equal 'partners,' not disposable laborers.

This surpassed his imagination and struck the deepest desire in his heart as a chieftain—to provide a better life for his people.

Submitting to a being stronger than oneself was no disgrace to a half-orc.

And the power of 'knowledge' displayed by this human before him was undoubtedly a higher form of strength he had never witnessed.

He remained silent for a long while before finally lifting his head. Those bell-like eyes were filled with complex emotions.

In the end, he gave a heavy nod, bit his own finger, and pressed his bloody fingerprint firmly onto the end of the contract.

However, the moment his fingerprint touched the parchment, a sudden change occurred.

A half-orc scout responsible for perimeter guard stumbled out of the forest, bearing several deep, bone-exposing wounds, half his body drenched in blood.

"Chieftain!!" he roared hoarsely, his voice filled with terror and fury. "It's a human army! A force led by knights... they're heading towards the human exploration group! They fly banners claiming 'to purge bandits'... their vanguard is less than half a day's march from us!"

The air froze instantly.

Evelyn's face paled slightly. And the still-damp, bloody fingerprint Shadow Claw had just pressed now seemed glaringly conspicuous.