The old elf had already packed up; he didn't really need to pack anything. He was just waiting for news from Yun Zhe.

"A new market tax-free for elves. That's her promise, are you satisfied?" Yun Zhe laughed.

The surrounding elves were all delighted to hear this, except for the old elf, who frowned. "Should we wait until she becomes a count?"

“Of course,” Yun Zhe replied casually.

The old elf frowned even more deeply. "We elves do not interfere in the affairs of humans."

Yun Zhe patted the old elf on the shoulder, "You don't need to get involved, this is what you deserve."

Having said that, he turned and walked into the depths of the woods.

"Yun Zhe, where are you going?"

There was no answer from the woods. The old elf waited a moment, then shook his head with a wry smile, turned around, and ordered, "Let's go!"

Yun Zhe walked slowly through the forest, recalling the direction the knight had come from. He searched the winding path.

He wanted to find those Aruru people.

He was curious about these people, these people who seemed unacceptable to society—what were they really like? He also longed to live with them. At least, he wouldn't have to wear that ridiculous hood anymore.

The only drawback is that he doesn't have a Sun Ring, which might hinder his plans to integrate into the lives of the Aruru people.

However, based on the fragmented information from the defeated soldiers, this group of Aruru people were probably traveling by night and hiding during the day, and they didn't want to be discovered by humans, so this was the only way they could move.

Yun Zhe's mind immediately stirred. If they traveled by night and hid during the day, they could advance together. The Sun Ring and such were out of the question for now; they could only wait and see. Traveling together might even allow them to take a look at that newly established country.

After these past few days of experiences, Yun Zhe had grown somewhat weary of humans, or rather, weary of hiding in human society. Therefore, he was even more eager to see the Aruru people.

However, Yun Zhe was not lucky. By the time he found them, the sky was already beginning to lighten, and they were starting to cook. Yun Zhe hid in the shadows, observing his compatriots.

First, there was the smell—a strange, sweaty stench permeated the forest, detectable even from a kilometer away by a vampire's keen sense of smell. This was the primary reason Yun Zhe was able to find them.

Secondly, their clothing was all tattered linen garments. Even the two girls wore greyish-black linen clothes, simply layered on top of each other. This was completely different from the ordinary clothes Yun Zhe had imagined; they were far more ragged and worn. Looking at them, Yun Zhe realized that his own clothes, which had been so bright and stylish, stood out starkly against this group.

Fortunately, their language hadn't changed much. This relieved Yun Zhe. However, they addressed each other by their professions—blacksmith, prostitute, farmer, miner, and so on. They never used a single word that sounded like a name.

But all in all, the disappointment far outweighed his expectations. Looking at his fellow countrymen, who were covered in filth and tattered clothes, Yun Zhe found it difficult to take a step forward and greet them.

"It seems their status in human society is indeed extremely low. No wonder they want to establish their own country; I wonder if things will get better that way."

The group consisted of six people, four men and two women. The two women looked very young, but the Aruru people are said to be around 140 years old; perhaps they just looked young. Both were called prostitutes, but they didn't seem angry at the word, as if it were just an ordinary name. They continued gathering firewood and mushrooms in silence.

The blacksmith and the miner were setting up their sleeping quarters and had also erected a makeshift tent between two large trees.

The farmer dug a shallow trench around the tent and filled it with a lot of grayish-white powder. Then he put a red-hot piece of firewood into the powder, which burst into flames with a crackling sound. After burning for a while, the grayish-white powder turned into a white powder, emitting a strange smell that drifted away.

There was only one tall, thin Aruru, who did nothing but sit squatting to the side, frowning. No one spoke to him, and Yun Zhe didn't know his name.

Yun Zhe looked at his current attire and seriously considered whether he should change into a set of tattered clothes to make it easier for everyone to accept him. However, Yun Zhe still couldn't bring himself to go out and give his compatriots a big hug.

Yun Zhe suddenly leaped up a large tree and continued to observe the situation at the camp from a distance.

The food was ready quickly. Except for the tall, thin man, everyone rushed to the pot to grab the few scraps of meat left inside.

After everyone finished their bowls of porridge, the blacksmith made a bowl of thin porridge and handed it to the tall, thin man.

The tall, thin man didn't refuse; he took the bowl and ate it all up in no time.

"Poet! Sing us a song, or you'll feel bad about the meal. Hahahaha!" Yun Zhe carefully identified the speaker; it was the miner. Everyone else laughed.

The tall, thin man looked distressed, staring at the wooden bowl in his hand for a long time. Then, as if he had made up his mind, he suddenly stood up straight.

"Hmph, I'll sing then, and let you people who've never been to a theater see what it's like."

Yun Zhe also became very interested. In this world, it was common for bards to sing heroic poems, just like the popular songs in his world. Most of the books Yun Zhe bought contained such poems, but he had never heard them before.

"Oh my, look at you, after spending a few days in the theater, you really think you're a human being," the miner said, wiping his bowl with his shiny sleeve and sitting upright on a piece of broken wood, clicking his tongue in mockery.

The two women looked excited. One of them ran over, took the bowl from the poet, poured the last bit of soup into the bowl, and handed it to the poet.

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