Prestige is a good thing for oneself in many cases, but sometimes it is not so useful, especially when prestige cannot be directly transformed into prestige and interests to enhance one's own strength, it is better not to reveal it so early, otherwise you can only lift a heavy stone and smash your instep.

Marton's fame is a big hit in the lower class, not everyone can catch a boy or girl from the street and sell them, which requires skills and more importantly. His fame at this time made him a target.

When many people lose their siblings or children, the first thing that comes to mind is the famous slave traders. In the city of Charne, Marton is such a person.

Marton also maintains his reputation to a certain extent, for example, if his parents or family members who really have goods come to him, he will charge some modest fees and let them go. And this did give Marton a slightly more positive reputation, and he always explained these things with the excuse that he didn't know that the guy was a local, which, combined with the cheerful release, made him second to none among slave traders in the lower society.

So, these orcs came over.

The missing person this time was a fourteen-year-old half-orc girl with at least seven bloodlines on her back, and even the dark elves seemed to have intervened. The girl has snow-white skin, long silver-white hair, pointed ears, and two cute little horns on her head. In addition to this, she has a pair of sharp tiger teeth, as well as a furry tail. Such a girl with a complex pedigree is undoubtedly very lowly in terms of blood.

But from a merchandising point of view, she's rare enough.

Rare goods have always been the object of curiosity for those rich people, not to mention a fourteen-year-old girl, and there are always some elders with twisted hearts who like this tune.

The girl, whom Marton calls a half-orc masterpiece, is one of Marton's most valued commodities at the moment, and at least five super-rich people have booked tickets to underground auctions for her, wanting to compete for the final ownership of the girl.

So Marton would never admit it, and it was about hundreds or even more gold coins.

When the value is higher than the fame he is after, nothing cannot be discarded.

At this time, Marton's face was cold, he was not very worried, because he knew very well that he was safe here. In the vicinity, there are people with him, adding up to less than thirty or forty fighters, and these people are all thugs raised by him. It is naturally impossible to do slave trade without such insurance, and it is definitely necessary to be prepared in case of emergency. Thankfully, in case he did, he was ready.

Within a minute, some stout men with sticks in their hands rushed in outside the door, and the first few people rushed in with bright steel knives in their hands. The Byron Empire's mineral resources were scarce, and steel knives were not available to everyone, and civilians were more likely to use wooden household tools and knives with steel - a blade that was only one centimeter wide and ten centimeters long was tightly clamped between two wooden boards, which was a kitchen knife.

More people still use sharpened stone as their tools, and in the Byron Empire, stonemasonry was also a well-fed job.

"What? want to cause trouble?", a strong man led by a wrist flip, raised his steel knife and patted his bare chest with the blade. The strong muscles are as angular and crackling as if they were carved. His contemptuous eyes raised slightly, and the corners of his mouth mocked in a casual tone: "Don't inquire, what kind of place is this, and you lowly people can come?"

"My name is Thrace. The leading orc still maintained relative restraint, "The girl you plundered is my daughter, return her to me, then I will accept your love, and I will compensate you for your loss." Thrace looked at Marton, he suppressed the anger in his heart, and took out two gold coins from the pocket of his clothes, which was cleaner than his face, "The orcs will also accept your affection." ”

With his hands down, Marton was naturally much more relieved, he sneered and shook his head slightly, "Two gold coins, I'll give you two gold coins, you go out with those doglegs of yours now!"

Thrace's eyes narrowed slightly, and he said in a deep voice, "How much do you want?"

"Hah!", Marton laughed loudly, and he walked up to Thrace's side, looking up at Thrace's eyes with some surprise, the orc was much taller than he had seen and imagined. He stretched out two fingers and pinched Thrace's collar and rummaged twice, "It seems that you don't know how much that girl is worth, a lot of money, more than you think." Sometimes I'm really jealous of you people, lowly bloodlines, lowly races, who can often give birth to excellent goods. In fact, you don't need to work at all, you just need to keep giving birth. ”

"Drown them ugly, keep the beautiful or special, and sell them for a high price, enough for you to do for a lifetime. ”

With a loud bang, a huge fist slammed into Marton's cheek, and his handsome face was instantly distorted and deformed, and the whole person rolled and flew out, falling to the ground wailing and unable to get up. The cheeks and chin look hard, but they are actually quite fragile, and when they are attacked, the force of the attack will immediately act on the brain. It is not impossible to kill people with more strength, not to mention that Marton is not a powerful professional, he is a slave trader who relies on his face and small means.

The master's house was beaten, and before Marton's men could raise their steel knives, several sticks struck them, and they fell to the ground in fear of pain.

Sometimes people's courage has nothing to do with themselves, but what is related is external things outside the human body, such as money. If it had been placed in the past, Thrace would never have dared to do it, but when he received Wren's aid, when he listened to Wren's fallacies, he realized that the orcs really needed to change. Money, faith, and ideas became the things that strengthened his courage.

A weak person who is pushed to the extreme will often go to extremes, either dying by himself or by others.

Thrace will not choose to let itself perish, then it can only let others die.

He threw a stick on Marton's head, which was lying on the ground like a dog, struggling to get up, and with a click, Marton's head was obviously staggered at the bridge of his nose, blood splattered, and the scarlet stream flowed down his nostrils and ears, dripping down thick pieces of it. He fell to the ground, trembling violently and twitching, Thrace was still angry, and stepped on his body, holding the stick with both hands, and once again slammed it down from top to bottom.

Marton was handsome and extraordinary, and because of this, he deceived many women's faces, and instantly sunken down. The tremendous pressure of the moment almost tore his head apart.

The man was dead, the butler trembled and wanted to shout something, but before the first syllable could be spat out, Thrace stepped forward, and his hand bit his neck like a tiger's mouth. The green tendons on the black and red arms twisted, and he clenched them hard, flipping his wrist to the side. The smell of fishy cheeks filled the room in an instant, and the pale-faced butler became even paler, and he was already out of breath.

"Close the door, only enter, not out!", Thrace rushed to the group of thugs, carrying his long stick. It was only at this time that he recovered from his monstrous anger and gave the most correct order as soon as possible.

Since you have killed a human and committed a great crime, then simply kill all the witnesses here, and drag it for a day if you can!

After a while, the screams gradually subsided, after all, the half-orcs born of the advantages of multiple races, it was not easy to deal with these ordinary people who had no strength? The blood on the ground and the bloody aura that rushed to the sky did not alarm anyone around. This is a remote corner of the city of Sharna, where not many people live, and with Marton's special profession, there are often screams, and the people who live around it have long been accustomed to it.

And they don't want to be nosy, after all, Marton is not a good person, even if he is very good at talking a lot of the time.

The two merchants of the Federation also lost their lives inexplicably, and in Thrace's opinion, the people who were with Marton were not good people. The group rushed into the basement behind the villa, only to find that all the slaves seemed to have been somehow saved and released from their cages.

Thrace groaned slightly, and then stared at the daughter in the crowd, "Targari...... , you all come with me!"

After all, he can't be cold-blooded and ruthless enough, and he can't do anything in the face of these victims, and the only way is to take them all away.

The noisy villa was quiet again, until the next morning, when a young man dressed as a tavern waiter knocked on the door of the villa.

It is true that there is no advanced and developed monitoring system in this world, but people have eyes, and if they have eyes, they will see certain things. Soon the guards at the police station got what they needed from some of the witnesses around them. Then all the details were handed over to the lord of Sharna in the form of a text.

"You mean, a group of orcs killed a group of humans?", the city lord threw the papers in his hand on the table in disbelief, "Even if you want to fool me, please find a slightly better excuse! Do I really look like a retarded or a fool?"

Awe, who was in charge of the survey, wiped the sweat from his head and lowered his head and whispered, "This is indeed the way things are, and I suspect that it may have been the hands of someone from the House of Hope. ”

"Why?", the city lord raised his head and looked at him indifferently, "The impact of this matter is very bad, those big people won't listen to my nonsense, you have to give me a reason to do it." ”