They Called Me Trash? Now I'll Hack Their World-Chapter 171: Watch Your Tongue

{Third Person POV}

Oakmere

******

"Hmm... so the harvest projection for the fields should be around forty bushels per acre, accounting for the rain damage from last month..."

Chief Zen sat at the head of his large work table, papers and ledgers spread out before him. His hands moved between documents, making notes with a quill.

Two village elders sat on either side, the grey-bearded man who’d been at the engagement dinner, and an elderly woman with sharp eyes who served as the village’s agricultural coordinator.

Sira sat to Zen’s right, her recovered health evident in the way she sat upright and alert. She leaned forward at one point, tapping a calculation near the bottom of a ledger.

"This column’s off by two," she said quietly. "Someone counted the Millford plot twice."

Zen glanced at it, grunted.

"Mm. Good catch."

"The northern plots will need additional hands," the elderly woman said, tapping a finger on one of the ledgers. "We’re short three workers since the Millford family moved to Greyford."

"We can redistribute from the orchards," Zen replied, making a note. "The apple harvest is lighter this year anyway, we don’t need—"

The door opened abruptly.

A young village man stepped inside, slightly out of breath.

"Chief, there are some people who want to meet with you."

Zen didn’t look up, waved his hand dismissively.

"Shoo them away. I’m busy."

The two elders gave him identical looks of exasperation.

Sira chuckled, covering her lips with one hand to hide her smile.

The young man shifted uncomfortably.

"They’re hunters, Chief."

Everyone paused.

Zen’s quill stopped mid-stroke.

The grey-bearded elder’s eyes widened.

The elderly woman’s expression went carefully neutral.

Sira’s hand dropped from her mouth, her smile fading.

"Hunters..." Zen repeated slowly, his voice flat.

Silence fell over the room.

Then Zen carefully set down his quill, his expression giving away nothing.

"Tell them I’ll be there in a moment."

The young man bowed and left quickly.

----

Village Hall Entrance

Six men occupied the small waiting area adjacent to the village hall’s main entrance.

They were hunters.

The kind you hired when you needed someone found, regardless of how far they’d run or how well they’d hidden.

Their leather armor was travel-worn but well-maintained. Weapons visible but not drawn.

Five of them sat on the wooden benches lining the walls.

One stood by the entrance, his posture alert, his eyes constantly scanning the area.

He was older than the others, maybe forty. His armor was slightly better quality than his subordinates’. A longsword hung at his hip.

One of the seated hunters—young, maybe mid-twenties, with a scar across his nose—shifted restlessly.

"Boss," he said. "Can’t we just whoop in like we usually do?"

Another hunter yawned, his cheek resting on his knuckles, eyes half-closed with boredom.

"Yeah. This is boring. It’s just a village. What can they even do?"

The leader didn’t turn from his position by the entrance.

"No."

"But—"

"No," he repeated, sharper this time. "This isn’t some merchant’s estate where we can throw our weight around without consequence."

"It’s just a village," the scarred hunter protested. "What can they—"

Before he could finish, the curtain separating the waiting area from the main hall parted.

The young militia member who’d been sent to fetch the chief stepped through.

"Thank you for waiting," he said formally, his nervousness barely hidden. "Chief Zen will see you now."

He held the curtain aside.

The village chief stepped through.

His grey-streaked hair was slightly disheveled from leaning over documents. His clothes were practical work attire, nothing fancy.

He looked at the six hunters with the expression of someone who’d been interrupted from important work and wasn’t particularly happy about it.

"What do you want?" His tone was blunt, impatient. "Hurry up. I am busy."

The leader pulled folded papers from his belt pouch, unfolded them deliberately, turning them to face Zen.

"Have you seen either of these two? They’re thieves on the run. We have reason to believe they passed through this area."

Zen stepped closer, leaning forward to examine the posters.

His expression remained perfectly neutral.

But internally...

Heh. Bastard. You think you can just walk into my village and demand answers?

He looked at Scarlet’s sketch first, the red hair, fox ears, green eyes.

Then scratched his chin, humming thoughtfully.

"Hmm... who’s this little pup supposed to be?"

Wait. Could that be the girl traveling with Jin?

Interesting.

He looked back at the leader, his expression unchanging.

"No," he said flatly. "Never seen either of them in my life."

The leader’s eyebrow rose slightly.

"You’re sure? They would have passed through here. Young man, blonde hair, traveling with a red-haired woman—"

"You deaf or something?" Zen interrupted, his tone sharpening. "I said I haven’t seen them."

The leader’s fists clenched briefly at his sides.

You arrogant geezer. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

But he said nothing.

Though his subordinates weren’t so restrained.

"You got a death wish, old man?" The scarred hunter stood up, his hand moving toward his weapon. "Talking to our boss like that?"

Another hunter—the one who’d been yawning—also stood, his boredom replaced with aggression.

"Show some respect. You’re talking to contracted hunters."

The leader turned his head sharply.

"Stop. Both of you."

But the subordinates either didn’t hear or chose to ignore him, their attention fixed on Zen with the kind of aggressive posturing that worked on intimidating most people.

"Answer properly when we ask questions—"

"Or we’ll make you—"

"Watch your tongue."

Zen’s voice dropped low.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop with it.

His posture changed. Eyes locked on the two subordinates. And the pressure rose, subtle, almost invisible, but unmistakable to anyone who’d ever stood before a man who could actually kill them.

Both hunters went pale.

Their hands, which had been moving toward weapons, froze.

The aggressive posturing evaporated like morning mist.

The leader felt it too.

This is exactly why I told you idiots not to do anything stupid.

"Warden of North, Zen," he said carefully, his tone shifting to something more respectful. "My apologies for my men’s behavior. They’re... overeager."

The two subordinates stood rigid, the color drained from their faces.

"W-Warden?"

Zen held the leader’s gaze for a long moment.

Then his posture relaxed slightly.

"Control your dogs better," he said flatly. "Or someone’s going to put them down."

The leader nodded once, sharply.

Then turned to his subordinates with an expression that promised consequences later.

"Outside. Now."

The two hunters practically fled through the door.

The remaining three looked considerably more subdued.

The leader turned back to Zen.

"I apologize again. We’re just trying to track down two fugitives—"

"Who I’ve never seen," Zen interrupted. "I already told you that."

The leader paused, then straightened slightly.

"Then perhaps you’ll allow us to ask around inside the village. Someone may have—"

"Ask around..." Zen’s eyes sharpened. "In my village?"

He let the silence stretch just long enough to be uncomfortable.

"You’ve forgotten where you’re standing, boy. These are border territories. Neutral ground."

"Your noble masters or whatever writ you’re carrying, none of it means a damn thing the moment you cross here." He tilted his head slightly.

"You really want to make an enemy of the Alliance over something this trivial?"

The leader’s jaw tightened. But he didn’t argue.

"Of course not." The leader’s tone remained respectful but had gone careful. "But if you should happen to see them, or hear anything... there’s a reward. Five gold for information leading to their capture."

Zen nodded slowly, like he was considering it.

"I’ll keep my eyes open. Now if you’re done, I have work waiting."

The leader studied him for a moment longer.

Then bowed slightly.

"Thank you for your time, Chief Zen. We’ll be moving on to check the surrounding area."

"You do that."

Zen turned and limped back through the curtain without waiting for further response.

Behind him, he heard the hunters gathering themselves and leaving.

He waited until their footsteps faded completely.

Then his expression shifted and he smiled.

"Five gold," he muttered to himself. "The duke must be very angry."

He dismissed the young militia man with a wave and turned toward his room.

He had barely crossed the threshold when it hit.

Cough!

He dropped to one knee, one hand braced against the doorframe, the other pressed hard against his chest. Blood spotted his palm when he pulled it away.

...Damn this broken core.

He stayed there a moment, breathing carefully, waiting for the tremor in his chest to pass.

Can’t even release a sliver of mana without the whole thing threatening to crack further.

Pathetic.