Black Hearted Mage

Chapter 161 Locke

The next morning, just as the sun was breaking through, the world seemed shrouded in a white veil. A thick layer of frost blanketed the grass, like a pristine white carpet. The shimmering frost flowers shimmered faintly in the sunlight, like tiny stars falling to earth.

Kaesus had long since awakened, having tossed and turned in his tent last night, unable to fall asleep. The deafening snoring of each ogre echoed in unison, resonating like thunder across the night sky without a single pause. The snoring blended together to form a unique and cacophonous symphony that kept Kaesus awake.

Just then, a figure appeared not far away. Melissa, clad in a fur robe, yawned as she slowly emerged from a nearby tent. She stretched her arms and slouched, then smiled and greeted Caesars, "Good morning, Caesars!"

Caesars shook his head helplessly, pointed to the tent beside the embers of the campfire and said, "Look, old Trum is still snoring!"

A thunderous snoring sound came again, as if to shake the entire camp.

Melissa couldn't help laughing and explained, "Oh, grandpa drank a whole pot of wine yesterday, more than twice as much as usual. It's good enough that he can get out of bed today!" After that, she yawned again, turned around and went back into her tent.

Having feasted on so much delicious rock sheep yesterday, Kaisas felt no hunger at all. So, he decided to make a cup of hot tea to warm himself and refresh himself. He retrieved the tools needed to boil water and brew tea from his space ring, along with some silver frost charcoal. He lit the charcoal with a small fireball and carefully placed the cast iron kettle on top. As the fire grew stronger, a soft sizzling sound began to emanate from the bottom of the kettle, and wisps of white steam slowly rose...

At this moment, the ogre's vast, somewhat disorganized camp was bustling with activity. Several massive iron pots were set firmly atop a blazing campfire, bubbling with fragrant, mouth-watering chunks of meat and bones. The constant gurgling sound seemed to herald the arrival of a sumptuous feast.

Each of these ogres was a massive beast, exceeding three meters in height, like a rolling hill. Due to their enormous size, their appetites were also astonishing, and the amount of food they consumed in a single meal was unimaginable to ordinary people.

Ogres are not picky about food. As long as there is a bowl of steaming, rich broth in front of them, accompanied by two generous and thick flatbreads, it is enough to satisfy them and become the most anticipated delicacy every morning.

At that moment, a bald ogre chef, wearing a hide apron, approached with heavy steps. He clutched a bulging hide bag, seemingly filled with something important. He made his way to the gathering of other ogres, stopping in front of the cauldron where a delicious meal was simmering. Without hesitation, he reached out his powerful, sturdy hands, pulled a handful of coarse salt from his bag, and casually sprinkled it into the pot. Then, he grabbed a large wooden spoon that had been placed nearby and plunged it into the pot, stirring vigorously.

The chef's stature was incredibly tall and imposing, his mere presence creating a powerful sense of oppression. His fur apron, now stained with various stains, looked grimy and made one frown. Caesars made a rough estimate and concluded that he must be at least three and a half meters tall. He appeared incredibly sturdy and strong, even to the point of being intimidating.

A moment later, the tall chef arrived beside Melissa. Without a word, he tossed the heavy hide bag in his hand to the ground, then sat down like a mountain beside the charcoal fire. There was a crackling sound, sparks flew, and the temperature around them instantly rose significantly.

"Melissa, at the rate we're eating now, the flour and meat reserves in the tribe will run out in less than half a month!" He shouted while panting.

"Locke, the tribe doesn't do heavy work every day. In just two or three days, we can fill this crack in the ground. But our tribe's food supply is indeed a bit tight. There haven't been major cold waves for several years, and meat is really a bit insufficient. The wheat will not be harvested for several months, so we need to go out and buy flour!"

Caesars watched Melissa and Locke, listening to their conversation. He knew the ogre tribe grew their own wheat and hunted monsters north of the Icecrown Mountains. He just didn't know what the relationship was between this burly ogre chef and Melissa.

"Melissa, why does Locke look a bit like you?" Caesar asked.

"He's my younger brother, the best chef in the tribe, but also the weakest shaman. Oh, and he was the one who stewed the mountain goat meat yesterday. But after he cooked the whole mountain goat, it was missing a leg and a tail!"

Hearing Melissa's words, the burly Locke grinned widely. His smile was very natural, as if the mountain goat leg belonged to him.

"Melissa, we are a family. What's yours is mine, and what's mine is yours!" Locke said with a smile.

"That's all very nice of you to say, but you have nothing but good food from me. Once the rift is filled, we'll go to the Roland Empire to buy food, and you can come along to check the quality of the food!"

"Melissa, I don't even have a storage ring. The delicious food can only be stored in my stomach. It will go bad if left for too long!" Locke said loudly.

As Kaisas listened to the conversation between the ogre brother and sister, he felt an indescribable sense of humor.

"Locke, I have a storage ring, I can give you one!"

Caesars took out a storage ring and threw it to the burly and slightly fat Locke.

"Brother Caesars, how sorry I am!"

Locke apologized, but his hands were not slow at all. He immediately took off his animal tooth necklace, put the storage ring on it, and hung it around his neck.

Kaisas now felt that the seemingly honest and simple Highland Ogre was actually quite cunning.

With a crisp "slap," Locke's fat face was slapped, and then his ear was twisted by a large hand. Melissa stood by and cursed, "Locke, you shameless bastard! You can't even say thank you! This is worth tens of thousands of gold coins!"

"Melissa, let go, my ears are going to fall off!"

When Locke was wailing loudly, the snoring beside him stopped, and Trump walked out of the tent with eye boogers.

"You damned bastard, why are you shouting so loudly? You disturbed my sweet dream!"

Melissa loosened her hands, Locke closed his mouth, and the old ogre sat on the ground wiping his eyes and began to ask what had just happened.

"Kaisas is really generous. He just gave me a storage ring worth tens of thousands of gold coins!"

After a long time, Trump sighed.

"Those are just my spoils. When I go out, I always meet bad guys. They either want to kill me or steal my things. I can only kill the bad guys, and their things will naturally go into my pocket!" Caesars explained.

"Brother Caesars, I will follow you from now on. You can kill whoever you want, and you can give me half of the spoils!" Locke said, patting his chest, saliva flying everywhere.

"Locke, forget it. You only have brute force, but your shaman level is too low!"

Trum glared at his grandson and mercilessly cut off his wild thoughts. In Trum's eyes, humans were much more complicated than ogres, and Locke's brain was completely inadequate.

Melissa was also ready to teach Locke a lesson. When the fat Locke saw that something was wrong, he first reached out his big hands to cover his ears.

"Old Trum, once this rift is filled, I want to visit your tribe!"

Caesars gracefully picked up the kettle and carefully poured hot water into the teapot. As the water poured in, the black tea leaves in the pot began to tumble and expand, emitting waves of enticing aroma. He then took out a few milky white pastries and gently placed them on a plate, preparing them as a delicious snack to go with the black tea.

At this moment, the three burly ogres smelled the aroma of cream puffs and black tea in the air. Their already huge nostrils opened even wider, and they breathed heavily like bellows, desperately inhaling the mouth-watering smell.

Melissa, who was sitting nearby, was the first to lose her curiosity. Blinking her eyes, she stared at the puff pastry in Caesar's hand and asked, "Caesar, why doesn't your puff pastry have any muttony smell? The puff pastry in our tribe always has a strong muttony smell!"

Hearing Melissa's question, the portly Locke next to her also came over and asked with a puzzled look on his face, "That's right, it's really strange. The milk puffs we usually eat made with wild cow's milk have a strong smell of mutton, but you can't smell it at all!"

You know, the Highland Ogres have been raising Frostmane Bulls for generations, along with a large number of common Bulls. Frostmane Bulls serve as mounts, while common Bulls provide not only meat but also a significant source of dairy products in their daily diet. Therefore, they are all too familiar with the distinctive aroma of dairy products.

Facing their questions, Caesars smiled and patiently explained, "The pastries I brought out today aren't made with your typical barnyard milk. They're made from a special kind of cow, specifically designed to produce milk, which has almost no pungent smell. So, when made into pastries, they naturally don't have that unpleasant taste. Oh, and I added herbs to the recipe to completely remove any pungent smell!"

"Where can I find cows like this?" Melissa continued to ask.

"The Gravel Kingdom is tens of thousands of miles away from here!" Caesars said after taking a sip of tea.

"It's too far!" the three ogres said in unison.

A journey of tens of thousands of miles is undoubtedly an extremely long and difficult journey for the large, slow-moving ogres. Although their strong legs can support their heavy weight, it is obviously unrealistic for them to reach their destination on foot.

Ogres were forced to choose a suitable mount: the Frostmane Bull. These massive, frosty-white wild bulls possessed immense strength and endurance, and were well-suited to the extreme cold. Horses, by contrast, proved too heavy for them to handle, as they simply couldn't carry them.

There is another important reason why the Highland Ogres don't want to go to the Stonebreak Kingdom. They and the Frostmane Bulls are very afraid of the heat.

After breakfast, the ogres and the northerners began their work in full swing. They worked together and continued to work hard to fill the shocking crack in the vast land.

The number of Northlanders working today seemed significantly greater than yesterday's, but a moment's reflection revealed the reason: the herding communities on this plateau were primarily Northlanders, while the ogres' grazing area lay at the edge of the Icecrown Mountains, a considerable distance from here. Furthermore, compared to the Northlanders' numerous herds of cattle and sheep, the ogres' herds of wild cattle were relatively modest.

Thankfully, today's work on filling the fissure went quite smoothly. The clever ogre potion master had already spread a special snake repellent powder along both sides of the fissure, effectively curbing the presence of vipers lurking in the underground caves. This has significantly reduced the number of vipers emerging from the surface, significantly reducing the risk of bites.

The mission Kaisas received today was simple and easy. He took over the task from the ogre warriors - to hunt the spotted vipers that appeared in the surrounding area. The reason he was so proactive was because he wanted to store enough food for the little black snake.

When a spotted viper appeared, the Mage's Hand immediately activated. The invisible hand, condensed from magical power, crushed the triangular, horned, and scaled snake head and stuffed it directly into the beast's mouth. This viper, which wasn't completely dead yet, couldn't be placed in the interspatial ring.

Trum had been observing Caesars from a distance, observing his every move. Melissa, clad in magic steel chainmail and carrying a hide pouch, followed Caesars. After only a decade of not seeing him, she realized his strength was no less than hers.