He rubbed his stomach and squatted down in the grass. It seemed his digestive system couldn’t handle this kind of fruit. Hunter Carter let out three loud farts in a row, but nothing else came out. Remembering the blue diamond in his belly, Hunter Carter felt a bit uneasy. He persisted in squatting for over ten minutes, but still, there was no movement at all. Fortunately, the stomach pain had disappeared.

Suddenly, the barking of hounds came from behind. Hunter Carter knew something was wrong. Before he could stand up, a short figure darted out from the grass beside him, fleeing forward like a rabbit.

Hunter Carter hadn’t even gotten a clear look at what that figure was when three or five more short figures sprang out from behind the trees and the grass. This time, he finally saw clearly—they were dwarves, each less than a meter tall. Though short, they were extremely sturdy, with skirts made of animal skins and leaves wrapped around their waists, bare upper bodies and legs, well-developed muscles, and dark, shiny skin. Their legs were thick and short, but they ran at an impressive speed, quickly leaving Hunter Carter behind.

Hunter Carter didn’t have time to think and chased after the dwarves in the direction they were fleeing. From the expressions on their faces, Hunter Carter realized that some kind of danger was imminent.

More dwarves, previously hiding in the surrounding grass, now fled as well. One particularly chubby-headed fellow was the unluckiest—when Hunter Carter farted, he happened to be hiding behind him and was so overwhelmed by the stench that he became dizzy. In his panic, he ran the wrong way like a headless chicken and crashed right into Hunter Carter’s crotch, colliding directly with Hunter Carter’s still-standing manhood. Hunter Carter cried out in pain, clutching his groin and squatting down.

The dwarf fared even worse—Hunter Carter’s firm member poked him in the eye, and he clutched his face, howling in pain. Despite his short stature, his cries were as loud as a bull’s roar.

Gritting his teeth, Hunter Carter limped away, still trying to escape. His running speed was no match for these dwarves with their short limbs, and his feet were scraped and cut by stones and thorns. The collision with the dwarf only made things worse.

Clutching his stomach, he managed a few more steps before hearing the hounds drawing ever closer. Looking back, he saw more than a dozen hounds, as strong as calves, tongues lolling, charging at full speed.

Hunter Carter was scared out of his wits—out of the wolf pack and straight into the tiger’s den. How could his luck be so terrible?

He ran forward in vain for a couple more steps before a hound leapt at him, its sharp front paws landing on Hunter Carter’s shoulders. Despite his burly frame, Hunter Carter was knocked to the ground in an instant. The chubby-headed dwarf was also pinned to the ground by another hound.

The hound’s white, gleaming teeth came close to Hunter Carter’s neck, its drool dripping onto his skin. Hunter Carter was so terrified he didn’t dare make a sound, afraid that any resistance would trigger the hound’s ferocity—its sharp teeth could easily tear out his throat.

After about five minutes, several graceful, alluring women came laughing and chasing after them. Hunter Carter thought he’d found his saviors and shouted, “Help! Help!” But as the words reached his throat, they turned into a hissing sound—his tongue felt numb and paralyzed, and he couldn’t speak at all.

All these women wore bronze armor, their skin was very fair, and their hair was a dazzling golden yellow. Aside from bronze guards on their elbows and knees, most of their skin was exposed.

Seeing this scene of beauty before him, Hunter Carter instantly forgot his perilous situation, his eyes hungrily following the women’s ample breasts and curvy hips. The leaf skirts were hiked up high, and his already swollen lower body throbbed with a burning pain.

One tall woman, smiling sweetly, came up to Hunter Carter, her brown animal-skin boots gently pressing between his legs. “I didn’t expect there to be such a tall and handsome man in the Bitren tribe!”

Several women behind her laughed wantonly. “Grace Lane, if you fancy him, just go ask the master to give him to you as a pet. Wouldn’t that fulfill your wish?”

Another woman laughed and said, “Look at how strong and sturdy he is—he must be a formidable lover in bed. If Grace Lane really takes him as a pet, she’ll be able to enjoy wild nights of passion and endless pleasure.”

The woman called Grace Lane let out a string of charming giggles. “You all feel lust in your hearts when you see how handsome he is, but you push it onto me. Let’s get back to business—if we delay the master’s task, we’ll all be punished.”

At the mention of their boss, the women immediately stopped laughing. They led the hounds aside and used steel shackles to chain Hunter Carter and the other captured dwarves together.

Hunter Carter couldn’t speak; his mouth and tongue were numb and dry. It must have been caused by the fruit he’d eaten earlier—the juice probably had a numbing effect. His tongue felt like a wooden stake in his mouth. Hunter Carter suddenly realized that, if refined, this stuff would make an excellent ingredient for a knockout drug.

Grace Lane now held a golden whip in her hand, which she raised and lashed fiercely at the chubby-headed dwarf, shouting angrily, “If anyone dares to run again, I’ll cut his throat!”

The chubby-headed dwarf was furious but didn’t dare speak out. His beady little eyes flashed with malice, as if he wished he could gouge out Grace Lane’s heart and liver.