Logan Bennett's words were buried deep in his heart: "You bastard, don't let me get a chance, or I'll stomp your balls to pieces!"

Chapter 004 Two Men in the Valley

When Logan Bennett left the spire, it was already past nine in the morning.

During the day, he had almost no free time at his own disposal, because he had received a new task: assist Vera Smith in crafting a beautifully designed, mid-level mana recovery enchanted headpiece, to be completed within two days.

If everything was ready, finishing such an enchantment would take at most half an hour. But the difficulty lay in the preparation work: there were at least over twenty kinds of materials, and more than a hundred steps in the material pre-processing—extremely tedious.

To finish the headpiece in two days, he would definitely have to work through the night.

"Fiona Carter, that damn thing, is truly a model bloodsucking capitalist!"

The enchantment room had most of the materials needed for the enchanted headpiece, but a few were still missing. Among them was something called "red clay," an essential material for making high-temperature molds, which Logan Bennett had to go into the mountains to dig up.

Logan Bennett slung a basket on his back, grabbed a shovel, and headed toward the back gate of White Stone Fort.

Beyond the back gate of the stone fort was a valley called Echo Valley.

This was the only place Logan Bennett could enter and exit. The valley was wide in the middle and narrow at the mouth, shaped like a ladle. The valley floor was surrounded by impassable cliffs, and the only exit of the "ladle" was White Stone Fort.

Even so, Logan Bennett was not allowed to go alone. Every time he went out, two ghouls would follow him.

According to Fiona Carter, the ghouls were there to protect his safety, but anyone could tell that if he even thought about escaping, these two ghouls would devour him alive on the spot.

"Hrrr... hrrr..."

The ghouls let out heavy, raspy breaths, like patients with severe bronchitis.

From their appearance, the two ghouls had been a man and a woman in life, both completely naked. Viscous drool, like beer foam, dripped from their mouths; their pupils were unfocused, corneas milky white, and their skin had been dried by the wind to a dark brown-black. They walked with a limp, their postures twisted, looking very much like zombies from a movie.

Being around such ghouls made Logan Bennett feel uncomfortable all over. Every breath he took, he could smell a strong stench of corpse in the air—fishy and pungent, making him want to vomit.

He really wanted to run far away, but he couldn't. If he ran, the ghouls would run after him, always sticking to him like shadows.

Helpless, Logan Bennett could only find amusement in his misery: 'These two ghouls are new faces. Their figures aren't bad, especially the female ghoul—big chest, perky butt, and a pretty face. She must have been a beauty in life. Why on earth did she mess with Fiona Carter?'

Muttering all the way, Logan Bennett walked along a weed-choked path, crossed a pile of jagged rocks, and reached a low-lying area by the creek in the valley.

In the lowland was a pit over a meter deep, which Logan Bennett had dug as a trap to hunt small animals.

He approached the pit and glanced inside, feeling delighted: 'Ha~ a big haul.'

Three large forest frogs squatted in the pit, the biggest as large as a palm, the smallest about the size of a fist. To survive the winter, each forest frog was as fat as a ball—enough for Logan Bennett to have a hearty meal.

He jumped into the pit, easily caught the forest frogs, and tossed all three unlucky creatures into his basket: 'Haha, no need to go hungry today, not bad, not bad.'

In a cheerful mood, Logan Bennett hummed a tune as he followed the stream, heading toward the red clay collection site upstream.

As he walked, he suddenly stopped, his gaze fixed on a huge rock by the creek.

The rock was rectangular, with a very flat top, like a natural stone table. On its smooth surface was a pile of pheasant feathers, and next to the feathers were scattered dark brown blood spots—few in number, but very conspicuous.

Logan Bennett was slightly surprised and stepped forward for a closer look.

He saw even more: besides the pheasant feathers, there was a pheasant's head, its cut surface smooth—clearly sliced off by a sharp blade. In the mud by the creek, there were several footprints. Judging by their shape and size, they belonged to an adult man.

'Hiss~ Someone's in the valley!'

'Who is this guy? There's only one way into Echo Valley—how did he get past White Stone Fort?' More questions popped up.

Logan Bennett's heart began to race, his eyes darting nervously around the surrounding forest.

The wind howled through the woods, branches occasionally knocking together with 'crack~ snap' sounds. From deep in the forest, the occasional call of a wild thrush could be heard—everything seemed perfectly normal.

But Logan Bennett didn't think so. He felt as if a pair of eyes were watching him from the shadowy woods. He grew increasingly uneasy: 'No, I have to find this guy!'

Logan Bennett once again carefully examined the traces in the mud.

The footprints varied in depth, stretching upstream along the creek. Next to the prints, dark brown blood spots could occasionally be found. In some places, the mud was so hard that the footprints were barely visible, but broken grass stems were enough to point the way.

"This person is carrying a freshly cleaned pheasant, heading upstream along the creek."

Following the footprints and blood spots, Logan Bennett tracked all the way.