Chapter 1279 - 858: Wolf and Rabbit

Chapter 1279: Chapter 858: Wolf and Rabbit

Town Hall

Compared to the shortness of the other burrow houses, the council hall, though not grand, exuded an air of solid dignity.

At least this building wasn’t half-buried in the ground; it looked more formal, much more dignified.

At the door stood several members of the Rabbit Race, led by the old mayor.

In the Rabbit Race, the old mayor was considered tall and burly, although his hair was gray, his back was still straight, and his face was marked by the elements and an old scar slashing across his cheek, silently declaring his identity as a "warrior."

Behind him stood a few guards from the council hall and several young militia captains who hurried over upon hearing the news.

These Rabbit Race warriors were also clad in leather armor, tightly gripping their javelins or half-drawn bows, their eyes complex.

Within was a natural fear of the Wolf Race, but deeper churned anger, humiliation, and the silent stubbornness of the oppressed.

They did not back down, their gazes locked onto the arrogant wolf cavalry, especially the leading wolf eyeing the young ones salaciously and the leader issuing orders on its back, their eyes filled with disgust and defiance.

Some young militiamen even mustered the courage to glare back fiercely.

The Wolf Race leader reined in the restless mount, looking down on these "long ears" at the door with disdain.

His eyes finally settled on the old mayor, speaking in a voice as rough as gravel, with unabashed contempt and an authoritative tone.

"Old rabbit, conscription order from the Empire’s battle group! Your ’Turnip Root’ tribe, in three days, deliver forty strong adult warriors, the best sentinels; you all seem decent."

He pointed at the Rabbit Race warriors at the door and the rabbits who dared to glare at him.

"Bring your bows and rations, and join us at the Blackstone front!"

His gaze swept over the Rabbit Race militia gripping their weapons tightly, sneering, "Don’t worry, we won’t send you to charge and waste... ah, die."

"You ’sentinels’... what you excel at isn’t reconnaissance and being bait? The Empire needs you to ’use your expertise.’

Outside the small open space in front of the council hall, the air seemed to freeze.

Fear continued to spread, but heavier was the suffocating sense under the tyranny and the silent, suppressed anger of the Rabbit Race.

Just like in human nations, where the noble class weighs heavily on the ordinary civilians, even those serfs.

The same occurs in the Beastman Empire.

However, here the exploitation seems more blatant because it’s direct oppression targeting certain ethnic groups.

Rabbit Race, Sheep Race, Chicken Race.

These three races, in a way, are the lowest class of the Beastman Empire.

Among them, the Rabbit Race stands at the very bottom.

They provide the largest labor force, tilling the most farmland in the Beastman Empire, and then offering most of the fruits of their labor to other tribes.

Above them are cat races, fox races, and dog races, with a considerable population and unique traits, not lacking in combat strength.

Of course, they also belong to the oppressed class, but the degree isn’t as intense as with the Rabbit Race.

Above them are the Wolf Race and Panther Race.

At the pinnacle are lions, tigers, and elephants.

However, the higher the race, the fewer their numbers despite greater inherent strength.

The founding emperor of the Beastman Empire was a lion.

...

Elsewhere.

A rabbit girl shot like a small cannonball, bursting through the half-ajar wooden door of the Adventurer Guild etched with vine patterns.

She leaned against the door frame, chest heaving violently, her long ears standing upright due to panic, with fur bristling.

She seemed extremely frightened now.

"Grandpa Gaius... sent me to deliver the message..."

She panted, her round red eyes scanning anxiously through the dimly lit guild hall.

"Those hungry wolves... the wolf knights are here again! At the council hall! They’re drafting men again! And they said... they said they’ll pick two ’tender’ ones to give the mount a feast before leaving!"

The most terrifying thing for these little rabbits is being fed to the mount wolves.

Because they heard such things really happened before.

The guild hall, wrapped in a warm yellow light filled with the scent of alcohol, tobacco, and low murmurs, plunged instantly into a cold silence.

The Rabbit Race adventurers leaning against the bar turned pale instantly, the wooden cups in their hands clattering onto the table, spilling murky liquor everywhere.

Behind the bar, the middle-aged Bear-man owner paused in his glass polishing, his heavy knuckles clutching the glass with a subtle grind.

In the corner of the hall, several figures checking the task briefings all raised their heads simultaneously.

They were clad in the Night Watcher’s distinct dark soft armor, with simple bronze torch insignias etched on the shoulder guards.

The warm yellow light poured onto them, seemingly absorbed entirely by that layer representing order and protection, leaving only a dense shadow.

The man at the forefront wasn’t particularly tall, yet standing there like an embedded boulder.

His face was iron-hard, with high cheekbones and deep eye sockets housing a pair of steel-like eyes, seemingly forged in the flickering fireplace.

This was Gertai, the Night Patrol captain stationed at "Turnip Root."

His weathered face revealed no expression, merely setting down the scroll in his hand.

"Where was it again?"

Gertai’s voice wasn’t loud, yet it cut through the hall’s silence like the hum of a blade drawn from its sheath.

"C-council hall entrance."