Chapter 32 The Life of a Villain
This was the first time Darian had encountered such a wish, and the guest's request was really strange.
"Sevier, serve our guest a cup of tea. I think we will have a long conversation," he said to Sevier.
"No, thank you. Do you have any wine here? The lowest quality ale will do. I need some alcohol to help me clear my mind," said the guest.
"Sevier, take out the Roland whiskey from the wine cabinet and bring two ice buckets." Darien was a little interested in the guest's story.
The guest who wanted to kill him was no longer young. His hair, which was half shoulder-length, was white with scattered gray streaks, and was tied into a neat short ponytail at the back of his head. Even more obvious than the wrinkles on his face was the hideous brown scar that cut through half of his face, adding a bit of cruelty to this man.
He has a very strong physique. If you ignore his face and gray hair, you wouldn't think he is an elderly person. He should be in the prime of life.
He had a glorious past, and even though his leather armor was very old, it was still worth a lot of money. But the collar of his shirt was frayed, and his cracked leather boots made him look particularly embarrassed.
The unsheathed sword might also be a treasure. The scabbard is made of red leather with the paint peeling off and the inner layer exposed. Judging from the quality, it should be high-quality calfskin.
Darien began to wonder what kind of story he could have that would make him want to kill himself.
"Thank you for listening to me," said the embarrassed-looking guest.
"You're welcome. No offense, but I'm curious about one thing. How old are you?" Darien asked.
"68 years old, you don't look like an old guy at all, right?" The guest smiled, and the scars on his face were pulled apart by the muscles, making them look even more hideous.
"Your body is very young," Darien said.
"I've participated in wars, held military ranks, worked as a mercenary, and been a demon hunter. I have countless scars on my body. Luck and physical fitness are both indispensable for my survival," said the guest.
"You are truly remarkable," Darien said.
"No, I am a sinner who has made many irreparable mistakes. I only felt extremely regretful when my sins came back to bite me," the guest replied.
Darien's interest in this guest increased.
Sewell came in pushing a small food cart.
On the dining cart were not only ice buckets and whiskey, but also glass wine glasses placed on ice cubes and half a ham with a knife stuck in it. All these things were pushed up together.
The ham was Seville's own idea, but Darien didn't care. With wine and snacks, the story could finally begin.
There was a crisp sound of ice cubes being put into the glass. The strong aroma of the high-proof whiskey slowly filled the gaps between the ice cubes like flowing gold.
"Please enjoy your meal, sir." Sewell placed the cup next to the guest.
"Thank you. This is Roland Whisky produced in Romance County. I haven't tasted this flavor for many years. The winery has long been burned down, and countless glass bottles were smashed. The burning flames filled the air, and the air was filled with the smell of aged liquor." The guest took a big sip, and the spicy taste burned from his throat to his stomach.
"I still have a lot of treasures, but it's true that one bottle less is one bottle less." Darian didn't urge her and took a sip.
"My name is Raymond Pendleton, and I was born in a village called Macaulay." The guest raised his head and drank the remaining wine in his glass.
Macaulay is a very ordinary, even ignorant and backward country village. It is far from rich. The roads in and out of the village are covered with mud trampled by livestock, and dirty animal feces are everywhere.
He was born in this village. His father was a hunter and his mother was a maid in a tavern. Their income was not stable but it was decent enough. However, his father was killed by a wild boar when he was five years old, leaving him and his mother to depend on each other.
When the village children spat at him and mocked him for not having a father, he picked up a stone and smashed the child's head with it, and then grabbed a handful of sand mixed with feces from the ground and stuffed it into the child's mouth.
The feeling was refreshing, and even though his mother hung him on a tree and beat him, he didn't regret it at all.
After he was taken down from the tree, he secretly threw two dead mice into the family's water tank in the middle of the night. The family members started to develop high fevers. The youngest child and the eldest grandmother did not survive and were buried in the grave like his father.
"Hahahaha, I forgive you. Your brother and grandmother went to see my father together!" He laughed at the child.
They wrestled with each other until he picked up a stone and smashed the child's arm. The bloody arm bent strangely in another arc, scaring the surrounding children into screaming!
He hit it again and again, and a smile appeared on his face unconsciously.
The child lost his right arm.
"You shouldn't have done this! God! I gave birth to a devil! I should have drowned you when you were born!" His mother paid a large sum of money as compensation and knelt in front of him wailing.
"They were the ones who scolded me first. I did nothing wrong," he said.
The children in the village were warned to stay away from him, and the adults who passed by him looked at him with contempt in their eyes.
"Little bastard born of a bitch."
"Let the ghouls take him away..."
He smiled the same smile they did, then killed their chickens and dogs and ate them or threw them into the woods.
No one dared to provoke him, they just walked around him.
Opportunity came to this small village with the spreading war. Facing forced arrest, he was more like a man than those cowards who were fleeing everywhere. He was very suitable for the army.
He did not feel fear when the blood splashed on his face. He tasted an unprecedented pleasure. The swords and axes were always more likely to chip and break in his hands, and bones were more likely to damage his weapons. But it didn't matter, they could be picked up everywhere on the battlefield.
His military rank rose higher and higher, and he soon became the head of a regiment, which entitled him to obtain more property when he plundered the surrounding villages.
Those noble lords who once made him bow their heads cowered like dogs under his sword, and he used them for fun.
After the war, even though he had a lot of property, life became much more boring.
He began to indulge in pleasure with women. He had many wives and many children. Gold coins flowed through his fingers as freely as sand, and everyone loved him.
He enjoyed flattery and love, and he held the power of the head of the family, like a steel lion protecting the weak lambs.
But it's boring.
He began to crave blood, the resistance of the sword breaking bones as he slashed, the piercing wail before death...
The career of a mercenary suits him very well, and he becomes a notorious mercenary leader. As long as the price is right and there is blood and wailing, he will take on any mission.
He had spent the first half of his life fighting, and retribution came very late.
Several of his wives grew tired of waiting for him, and some took their children away, others abandoned them and left him; those who stayed behind were reduced to ashes by a fire and a long-planned revenge.
A box full of heads was specially preserved and brought to him in an attempt to arouse his anger.
He has too many enemies, and no one knows who did this, but it did succeed in making him angry, and it was undoubtedly a provocation to him.
He was angry and in pain, and he took mad revenge on those people until he lost everything.
"You will be punished!"
"It's you! It's all your fault! You killed my parents, my wife, and my children. You must suffer the same pain I suffered!"
The heart-wrenching howl ended with the blade, and the falling of the last enemy's head made him confused.
He didn't understand why he fell into such a confused state, so he became a witcher.
Hunting monsters rekindled his excitement. Every brush with death made his scalp tingle with excitement. He began to hunt monsters endlessly, regardless of whether they were guilty or not.
The excitement passed too quickly. In his tenth year as a demon hunter, the emptiness in his heart was infinitely magnified, and he began to feel confused again.
So he put away his sword and spent a peaceful month.
He began to have frequent dreams, dreaming of those people who died tragically, their screams and their terrified faces, and he saw his cruel self.
A villain has no conscience unless he gets what he deserves.
After so many years, he finally realized that he had given all the suffering and retribution to others, and they had to bear it for him.
A feeling of regret was brewing, and he began to reflect for the first time.
He destroyed the happiness of countless people and cut off all voices with his sword.
Ah, so he was wrong.
"I should have drowned you when you were born!" Mother's words were brought back from distant memory.
He began to dream about Macaulay, the small village where he was born.
That ignorant, poor and backward place.
After losing her husband, his mother raised him by working as a maid and as a prostitute. He razed the place with his cavalry.
"Little bastard."
He returned all those words one by one.
How could I dream about that place?
He remembered that his mother had the opportunity to leave that small village.
A merchant, while staying briefly in the village, persuaded his mother to elope with him, abandon him, and leave the place together.
The mother was moved.
But she stayed for him.
"I should have drowned you when you were born!"
The words echoed in his ears again.
If he killed his five-year-old self, then everything that happened later would not have happened, so his wish was to kill his former self with his own hands.
"Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't agree to a life-stealing wish," Darien said. "But I'm especially tolerant of villains, and since your wish is to kill yourself without my intervention, I can grant it. But..."
"But what?" Redmond asked.
"But I can only fulfill part of your wish. I can only promise to send you back to the past," said Darien.
"That's enough," Redmond replied.
"Sevier, give our villain a contract. Mr. Pendleton, I can send you back to the past, but I also need a reasonable reward." Darien said.
"I don't have anything to give you. I have nothing now. I heard that you also accept souls here." Redmond said.
"I don't need your soul, but I can take your sword," said Darien.
"You have good taste," Redmond said. "Sigir has followed me for a long time. He has slain countless heads, both human and demonic. Washed in blood, he still shines brightly. Here, take it and equip it with a better scabbard."
"Fulfill the wish first, then collect the reward." Darien shook his head.
"When can we set off?" Redmond asked.
“If you’re ready, you can be now,” Darien said.
"Then let's do it now. I don't want to wait any longer," Redmond said.
"Then please come this way and push the door open again. We will go with you and make sure you don't do anything other than kill yourself," said Darien.
The gorse door that can transcend time is quietly waiting for Redmond. As long as he reaches out and pushes the door open, he can return to the village that has long been blurred in his memory.
Without any hesitation, Redmond pushed open the door.
Darien and Sevier followed him, traveling through time together, and came to Macaulay, a ignorant and backward village.
Before Mr. Mage could clearly see the scene in front of him, he was forced to step back repeatedly by the smell of livestock feces, and his back hit Mr. Crow's chest.
Mr. Crow held out his hands to steady him.
"It smells terrible, doesn't it? This village is like a huge cesspool. If you're not careful, you'll step on feces. I miss you so much. It's been many years since we last met, Macaulay." Redmond said with a smile.
"It's indeed a bit beyond my expectation." Darien took out a scented handkerchief from Seville's pocket and quickly covered his mouth and nose.
"I changed my mind at the last minute. Do you mind if we stay in this village for a few more days?" Redmond said.
"Don't mind, I can wait for a few days." Although Darien said this, he was actually about to faint.
They pushed open the door of an abandoned house at the entrance of the village. Although the village was not wealthy, it was on an important road, so people passing by often stayed overnight in the village tavern.
Redmond led them in the direction of the tavern.
When he returned to this point in time, his father had just died and his mother was heartbroken, but while working as a maid in a tavern, she met the businessman who encouraged her to elope.
They would meet her there.
Darien walked with his head down, suppressing his nausea.
In addition to mud, there is also animal feces of similar color on the road. If you are not careful, you will step on it all over the soles of your shoes. He cannot take it lightly.
After a difficult journey, Redmond brought them to the tavern.
It was daytime and there were not many customers in the tavern. Redmond saw his mother when she was young at a glance.
His mother's name was Melissa. He never remembered her being so young and beautiful. In his memory, she was just a wrinkled old woman with a fierce face.
"Melissa! Come here and take all these things away to wash!" The boss's voice came from above the counter.
"Okay, okay." Melissa hurried over and quickly picked up the dirty wine glasses and dirty plates with a large tray.
The men in the store included those from the village and those from outside. Their eyes lingered on the young widow, waiting for her to fall.
"We want three rooms," Redmond said as he walked up to the counter.
"One silver coin per night for a room." The boss's greedy eyes fell on Darien and Sewell's clothes.
He had met many customers and could tell their wealth from their clothes, and he also had a completely different price list in his mind.
"Haha. I remember that the price of staying here for one night is only 10 copper coins." Redmond smiled, and the hideous scar on his face twitched.
"Ah, sir, you must have remembered it wrongly. Where did you hear it? This has always been the price here." The boss hurriedly evaded.
"Are you sure?" Redmond pulled his sword out of the scabbard.
"I remembered it wrong! I remembered it wrong! It's 8 copper coins a night!" The boss quickly begged for mercy tactfully.
The sound of breaking pottery came from another corner of the tavern. Melissa screamed and waved her hands to resist the customer who was touching her.
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