The size is just right, and it can protect the delicate toes. There is a turban on the top of the head, and it is dressed like an Arab.

This mix and match style doesn’t matter whether it’s beautiful or not.

Now is not the time to be particular.

He found a few more bottles of blood ring poison in the camp, and quenched the poison on the short sword and dagger again. Werther's Leg was no longer needed, as it was a blunt weapon.

If you hit it on the head during a sneak attack, you will either fall into coma or have your skull split. There is really little point in applying poison.

"Then, the next step is Dun Moder."

Taking advantage of the darkness, Blake went into stealth and tiptoed outside the camp. He hid in the shadows and looked towards the end of the horizon, where he could vaguely see a small town in the valley.

Typical dwarf style, built against the mountain.

There were very few buildings exposed on the surface, but there were lights on in the town, and there were patrolling orcs riding on the backs of the wolves, roaring out of the town and rushing further north.

"If we could kill all the orcs in this town..."

Blake licked his lips.

A genius idea came to my mind.

If he could really do that and kill all the 400 orcs in Dunmod Town, then his thief class would probably be promoted to level 15 or even level 20.

But thinking about it, I know it’s impossible.

The people stationed there are not just stragglers, the old, the weak, the sick, but the real blood ring elites, and they also tame orc warwolves with keen senses of smell and hearing.

He was afraid that Black would be discovered before he even got close, and would be torn into pieces by the violent orcs.

In this real world, there is no such thing as level crushing or instant kill.

He looked over to Dunmod a few more times, and finally stepped back with regret, intending to go to other places and find a few blood ring camps to bully the old, weak, sick and disabled.

"It would be best to draw out a small group of elite orcs to check it out, and then kill them one by one. By the way, the elite orcs should be able to drop some good stuff."

Blake thought so.

He glanced at his character card again.

He pessimistically discovered that the warrior class had dropped another level, already to level 3. At this rate, he could stay in the wetland for at most three or four days, and he would have to rush to the Arathi Highlands to find a priest to dispel the curse.

But just ten minutes after Black left Dunmod, he came to a hilly highland and planned to take a nap, when the little murloc in his arms suddenly started croaking.

Ben Bolba shivered and hid in Blake's arms, pointing his finger at the sky and covering his eyes with his other hand.

Apparently he was frightened by something.

Blake looked along the little fish-man's claws and was horrified for the next moment.

Above the quiet sky of the wetland, under the stars, a huge black shadow was spreading its wings and flying towards the Arathi Highlands. It was far away and flying very high.

Blake could only vaguely see a shadow, but it was at least thirty meters long!

Although Blake did not need to breathe in the form of the undead curse, he still held his breath instinctively at this moment, and conveniently covered the croaking mouth of the little fish man in his arms.

That is...
Chapter completed!