The Panthers' tavern primarily catered to established customers.
Most of the customers were neighbors, so they wouldn't be so unruly.
Occasionally, travelers from the docks would stop by, mistaking Kelly, the young hostess, for a hostess and attempting to grope her.
"Damn bitch! Do you think you're so noble that you can't be touched?"
The drunk's rants grew increasingly vehement.
"If you don't kneel down and apologize to me today, I'll tear this place down!"
"Have you had enough?"
Kelly's patience was running out.
"I don't want uneducated people like you in my house! Get out!"
The drunk suddenly stood up, grinning, and drew his dagger.
"You little brat, you want to chase me away? Come here and try!"
"Ha! A knife to give you courage? You're such a hero!"
Kelly sneered, rolled up her sleeves, and was about to rush forward to chase them away.
Snap!
A broad, strong hand pressed down on her shoulder.
Kelly turned around and saw her brother's handsome, calm face.
"Sister, let me do it."
Alan took two steps forward, shielding his sister and father behind him.
The drunkard squinted at him, then, pretentiously, held the dagger across his face and flicked it with his finger.
The dagger clanged, revealing it was made of fine steel.
"Hehe... kid, I might as well make things clear."
"This knife of mine... hehehe!"
"Not only is it incredibly sharp, it can cut through iron like mud!"
"It's also coated with a deadly poison—"
The drunkard had barely finished his words when, in a flash, Alan's figure vanished from his sight.
The next second, Alan appeared from behind him like a ghost.
"Huh?! You—"
The drunkard jumped in shock, the alcohol turning to a cold sweat.
Before he could turn around, a hand as strong as a clamp had already grasped his right hand.
Forcing him to point the dagger at himself, the blade edged closer and closer to his throat.
"Damn it!"
The drunkard, furious, gripped the knife with both hands and struggled, but he couldn't shake the young man's hand. "Don't make a big deal out of it!" the father quickly warned his son.
Alan nodded gently, then exerted force with his hand.
He forced the drunk to twist the dagger, slicing it past his lips.
"Wow!"
The drunk screamed.
The bloodied lip looked incredibly frightening.
In reality, it was only a minor cut.
"Friend, what did you say was on the dagger?"
Alan let go of the drunk and asked with a polite smile.
"Nothing...nothing..."
The drunk dropped the dagger in fear, covered his mouth, and scrambled out of the tavern.
Alan picked up the dagger and said to the onlookers, "It's all right, go away."
The guests returned to their seats, continued eating and drinking, and sighed.
Alan, only twelve or thirteen, was already stronger than a calf, and no slouch when it came to fighting.
"Nice knife! I'll take it. I'll consider it the wine money for that guest."
Alan fiddled with the dagger and said to his father and sister.
"Is this dagger... coated with poison?" his father asked his son worriedly.
Alan shook his head and smiled, reassuring his father.
"That guy was just trying to scare Kelly."
If the dagger was truly poisoned, the Gluttony System would have already indicated it.
Of course, it wasn't poisoned now.
That didn't mean it wouldn't be poisoned in the future.
Alan was currently studying toxicology with the principal.
As far as he knew, there were several plants in the glass garden that could be extracted toxins suitable for use on swords.
He wouldn't mind using this dagger to practice his poison-digesting skills.
After resolving a minor issue, Alan returned to his second-floor bedroom and began his meditation session for the day.
Meditation World.
Jungle Valley.
The roar of wild beasts.
The roar of ogres.
Echoing through the valley.
The gurgling stream was blocked by a pile of wild boar carcasses.
Blood-red ripples appeared on the water's surface.
Three adult ogres, plus seven young ogres, formed a hunting party.
The team leader was a tall, corpulent male ogre, shirtless.
From head to bare feet, he was over three meters tall.
His waist was also three meters!
His bare chest was covered in a crisscross of scars.
Almost completely obscuring his dark blue skull tattoo.
He wore only a pair of crudely crafted animal hide shorts.
A handmade leather belt was tied around his waist.
His plump belly was squeezed in half.
His long brown hair, tied in a high ponytail, flowed in the wind.
His round face was tense, his jaw set hard, and his mouth pursed.
His eyes, though small, were incredibly bright.
His clear gaze revealed a commanding aura that was undeniably powerful without anger!
This young and powerful male ogre.
Nicknamed "Iron Fist Big Guy."
This was Allen's new identity in the meditation world.
In fact, in the original ancestral spirit's memory... "Big Guy" was just a big-boned, simple-minded fool, unworthy of the prestigious title "Iron Fist."
After merging with Big Guy's ancestral spirit, Allen changed his foolish ways and, with his thunderous tactics, established a name for himself within the clan, terrifying the demons!
With his iron fists, he established his current position.
A position the original Big Guy could never have dreamed of!
Alan, as a male ogre, replaced his mother as the new leader of the Valley Ogre Clan.
A new leader must establish his authority.
Alan pointed his killing rod at the wild boars in the valley.
He had already declared his intention.
Within three days, the head of "Iron Fang," the murderer of his mother, would be hung outside his cave!
Iron Tusk, the king of the valley boars, is a so-called "ferocious boar."
This monster is a living mountain of flesh!
Ordinary wild boars are more than ten times larger than it!
Including Alan's mother, no fewer than ten adult ogres have been tragically slain by the boar king's tusks.
Spring has arrived, flowers are blooming, and the earth is reviving.
Today is a good day.
It's time to put an end to Iron Tusk's reign!
Alan mobilized all the adults in his clan and, through clever deployment, attacked from all sides.
After two days of bloody fighting, most of the wild boars had been driven from the valley.
Now, only Iron Tusk remained, hiding here with a small group of boars, holding out.
Alan ordered his fellow occupants to guard the valley's perimeter.
He selected two of his nine consorts, the most astute of the female ogres, along with their seven recently weaned children, to accompany him on this hunt.
Both female ogres carried large maces.
In addition to their hide shorts, they wore leather armor looted from human adventurers.
The armor was ill-fitting and could not be buttoned.
The female ogres could only use hemp rope to tidily hold together their peaks, which were larger than ripe watermelons and nearly bursting through the armor.
Both pairs of eyes, filled with concern, fixed on their deeply adored husbands.
The rest of the wild boars had already been slaughtered by the two of them and their children.
The only remaining enemy was Iron Tusk.
The entire family could have joined together to attack the Boar King.
But their proud husbands refused.
Declaring a challenge to the Pig King!
Both sisters felt that this action, while courageous, was not very smart.