The Void Pathfinder from the Demon Hunter World

(Note: The recommended background music for this chapter is "Eredin, King of the Hunt" from The Witcher 3 Wild Hunt Soundtrack.)

May 1171, after the festival.

The Demon Hunter World, Kingdom of Temeria, a small village 30 miles north of the capital city of Vizima, Northseten.

Vizima, located in the southern part of the northern part of the continent, is in full spring, with lush grass and flying birds, and a slightly cold spring breeze blowing from the southeast. The oat fields in the south are surging with green waves, and the farmers have gone home for dinner. There are no voices in the fields, only the rustling of the small woods next to them.

Since His Majesty Geidema took over the country, Temeria has been relatively stable and gradually prospered.

However, in this medieval continent where technology has not yet appeared and mysticism has only developed slowly, people's lives are not actually happy. Especially the civilians, they can only be considered alive.

The midday sun shines on the thatched roof and front of the tavern at the entrance of the village. The notice board next to the door is hung with notices of recruitment, looking for people and cursing.

It seems that the area around the capital city of Vizima is relatively peaceful, at least there are no monsters harassing.

Creak~

The door of the tavern made of slats opened, and a young man with half-long black hair walked out of the door and stretched his body with satisfaction.

He wore a special leather armor, a short chainmail on the upper body, and hard reinforcements on the shoulders and knees. The armor was exquisitely made and looked like high-end goods. Note ①

The boy was not short, he was taller than an average adult, but his face was young and clean, and with a good armor, everyone could see that he was not a civilian, let alone a mercenary or a robber.

He walked out of the shadows in the tavern, revealing two swords on his back.

The young man breathed a sigh of satisfaction, put down his hand that was blocking his eyes, and showed a pair of ice-blue eyes. He was not a demon hunter.

A middle-aged man followed the boy out of the door. His hair was shaved very short, revealing a scar from his forehead to the corner of his eye. He wore a steel chainmail and held an extended two-handed sword in his hand.

"Young Master, do you want to rest for a while? We still need to pack the horses."

"No, I'll get some sun. Who knows if it will be this good after we enter Velen?"

The young man leaned against the wooden wall of the tavern with his arms folded, looking up and closing his eyes to enjoy the sunshine.

Four more people came out of the tavern, and they went to the stable to pack the horses and luggage in an orderly manner.

All four of them were wearing leather armor inlaid with steel, holding half-swords with sheaths, and thick wooden shields were hung on the horses. This group of people was well-equipped.

The tavern proprietress swore that all the noble masters she had seen were not as stylish as this young man. Strangely, there was no family emblem on their bodies or saddles.

The proprietress guessed that this was another noble young master doing something new.

It had nothing to do with her, and it was best to keep a distance from him.

...

There was a noise, and seven or eight villagers pushed a lame man and walked over, as if they were going to the village entrance.

The villagers who had just finished lunch had no entertainment activities, so they pushed the door open to watch the fun. Seeing that the one being pushed was the lame man, they all pointed at him, and a few people joined in.

The lame man resisted while shouting: "You are talking nonsense... It's not me... God knows..."

A villager kicked the lame man from behind, and the scene became even more chaotic...

The young man opened his eyes, frowned and looked in the direction of the commotion and said: "Drina, go see what's going on."

"Okay, young master."

Although he was surprised, the sturdy man immediately walked towards the group of villagers. Drina has been responsible for the safety of this distinguished young man for eleven years and knows his temper well.

This young man likes quietness, likes to be alone, and hates noise very much. Drina has never seen him join in the fun, what happened today?

The black-haired boy lowered his head and paced in the small courtyard in front of the tavern. After a while, Drina came with the lame man and an old man, and the other villagers were stopped outside the tavern fence by the guards.

"Master, this is the village chief." Drina patted the old man's shoulder and said coldly: "Don't lie."

The bald village chief frowned and looked at the scene in front of him, and stole a glance at the tavern owner who came out to watch the excitement, hoping to get some clues.

But the owner ignored him at all.

"Good day, young... young master, this cripple is a famous drunkard and rogue in the village... cough... he, he stole my purse."

"You are talking nonsense! You old rogue, I didn't steal anything!" The cripple immediately refused to do it and shouted loudly.

He smelled of alcohol in the middle of the day, and the name of drunkard should be correct.

The young man waved his hand impatiently: "Drina, let him be quiet."

The strong head of the guards pinched the cripple's shoulder with one hand.

"Ah! It hurts..." The cripple screamed and kept slapping the guard's hand, but it was useless.

"Keep quiet, it's not your turn yet." The young man glanced at the lame man, and then at the old man: "Go on, what evidence do you have?"

The young man moved his left hand slightly, and secretly threw a "lie detection" to the village chief.

"Uh..." The old village chief found that this young master seemed to be different from other nobles. He swallowed his saliva and hunched his waist and said: "I... I found my empty purse behind his house... This is it. Look, the K embroidered by my wife is still there. This is my purse."

Magic feedback, what he said is true.

The young man turned to the lame man calmly, threw another lie detection and said: "It's your turn. What's your name? And this purse."

"I haven't woken up yet, a group of people rushed into my house, dragged me out, and said that I stole the money of this old ruffian. What the hell is the money bag, I don't know. You are talking nonsense, you will bully the cripple. You..."

Magic feedback, the cripple is also telling the truth. This man is too drunk, and there is no way to communicate properly.

The boy pointed to the trough next to the stable and said: "Let him sober up."

One guard pushed the cripple away, and the other took a bucket and scooped half a bucket of water from the trough, "splash" poured it on the cripple's head, and patted the cripple's face: "Are you awake?"

The cripple wiped his face, looked around, and nodded: "Cough cough cough cough..., awake, awake."

The guard dragged the cripple in front of the boy, but did not let go.

The boy pointed to the purse in the village chief's hand and did not speak. Drina walked over and kicked the cripple in the side: "What? Do you want our young master to ask again?"

"Oh, oh, I said, I said... My lord, my name is Hank, I used to work in Vizima, but later my leg was broken by the noble's horse. I had to return to the village to live."

He looked at the village chief and wanted to scold him, but he held back. During the years he worked in Vizima, he not only learned some skills and human relationships, but also figured out one thing. Don't mess with the nobles, otherwise you will die.

"Ding!"

A text prompt popped up in front of the young man.

[Task prompt: Drunkard and thief? Solve the case, determine whether Hank stole the village chief's money, and determine where the money went. Do you want to accept this task? 】【Yes】【No】

The young man raised his eyebrows slightly. It was right to go out this time. If he stayed at home all day, he would not be able to discover the new functions of the panel. He chose [Yes].

"What were you doing before you were caught?"

"I, I was drunk and sleeping. I often get drunk."

"Where were you last night?"

"I was drinking here, got drunk, and went home to sleep."

Although the magic feedback showed that the drunkard cripple was telling the truth, the boy still turned his head and looked at the tavern proprietress next to him.

The gray-haired proprietress replied: "Yes, sir, I remember, he is here almost every night."

From the name, it can be seen that this proprietress is more knowledgeable than the village chief.

The boy pointed at the cripple and said: "Take him to the tavern, stay away from here, and don't come out unless I call you."

"Yes." A guard dragged the cripple into the tavern. There were no guests in the tavern in the small village at noon, and it was empty now.

The boy waved his hand and asked the tavern proprietress to come forward and said: "Does Hank have any family?"

"No, sir."

"You go in too, don't come out without my order. You go and look after her."

The proprietress walked into the tavern obediently.

The boy turned around and asked the village chief: "When did you lose your money?"

"This morning, I found that my purse was missing?"

The magic feedback showed that he lied.

"What I asked was, when did you lose your money!"

"Today, no, I lost it yesterday. Yes, yesterday!"

The village chief was still lying, and the boy had roughly guessed the context of the matter. But it seemed that a more definite answer or the village chief's personal admission was needed to gain the recognition of the panel.

"What time yesterday?"

"Yesterday... after dinner."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes, sir."

"Where did you lose it?"

"East of the village... yes, east of the village, I ran into Hank, he must have stolen it!"

"Hank was drinking in the pub yesterday evening."

"Oh, I remember, it was yesterday morning? I ran into Hank on the way to the field."

"Are you sure Hank would go to the field?"

"Well, let me think about it..."

"You don't have to think about it. I should think about it. You lied to me. So, should I cut off your left hand or your right hand?"

...

The author has something to say, 300 words at most, it's really not enough!