Eric jumped in fright.
If he wasn’t afraid of sending the frail young man in front of him flying, he almost would have leaped to his feet.
His other hand patted his wildly beating chest. Still frightened, he thought, what on earth is this guy saying? Why can’t I understand any of it?
Beastmen frequently traded with humans, so they could understand human language.
But the words this young man spoke, he couldn’t understand a single one. Could it be a dialect from somewhere?
"Are... you alright?" Afraid the young man wouldn’t understand, Eric even tried to gesture, but his other hand was being gripped very tightly by the young man.
This young man looked frail, but his grip strength was surprisingly strong. Eric saw his complexion was very bad, so he didn’t resist.
After the young man finished speaking a string of unclear words, he panted heavily, as if he had just woken up from a terrifying nightmare.
Beastmen, for convenience, mostly kept their hair short, but this young man had long, glossy black hair.
His eyes were also jet-black like the night sky, his features exquisite but not at all feminine. His seemingly frail body actually concealed firm, smooth muscle lines.
At some point, Eric had started staring in a daze. This face, this figure—not becoming an idol was truly a waste.
After a long moment, the young man regained his senses and became aware of his situation. His gaze fell on the rough and ragged animal skin clothes he was wearing, and an unconcealed flash of disgust flickered in his eyes.
Eric had been observing his expression. Seeing this, he said embarrassedly:
"I’m not very good at sewing. Your clothes were soaking wet and unwearable, so I temporarily made you a set of animal skin clothes."
Hearing this, the young man looked up. His deep black eyes reflected Eric’s image.
The evening glow shone through the gap in the tent flap, outlining Eric with a warm, golden halo.
He was stunned. Not until Eric’s gaze turned to worry did he softly say, "Thank you."
After coming to his senses, he realized his hand was still gripping the wrist of the young beastman in front of him. He immediately let go as if burned.
The young man propped himself up and turned his head to observe the surroundings. This simple animal skin tent fit perfectly with his poor impression of Beastmen.
"You saved me? Are you a cub of the Snow Wolf tribe?"
The sound of waves crashing on the shore continuously entered his ears.
To avoid the wind, Eric and the others had chosen to set up the tent behind a large reef. Being close to the sea, the sound was quite loud.
The young man’s expression became doubtful. "As far as I know, no Snow Wolf tribe lives by the sea."
Eric scratched his head. "Do you often travel with merchant caravans? How do you know so much about us Beastmen? Do you know Corbin?"
If he knew him, that would be great. The merchant caravan would be passing by soon, and then he could follow them back to the human country.
The young man’s expression became even more confused, as if he didn’t understand what he was saying at all.
"Ah, you don’t know Corbin. Then perhaps you aren’t from the same country. I remember there was another human merchant caravan... what was it called..."
Eric thought frustratingly but couldn’t remember. But if he asked Corbin, he could probably get the young man home.
He remembered the Hailun merchant caravan’s influence was very large. Using white wine or wild berry wine as payment, Corbin would surely be happy to agree.
The young man’s expression grew increasingly strange. Suddenly, his body shuddered, and he raised his hand to touch his ear. The moment he touched it, his expression changed from disbelief to utter fury, and he gritted his teeth.
Immediately after, he spoke another long stream of words in that strange language, full of hatred.
Although Eric didn’t understand, he felt it sounded quite melodious.
But seeing the young man’s extremely angry appearance, he was a bit confused. Could he be cursing the person who had harmed him?
Looking at his attire, it was clear he wasn’t an ordinary person. His words and gestures all exuded a noble aura. He was likely either high nobility or a royal descendant.
For such a person to end up stranded on the Fantasy Continent, he must have gone through considerable struggles. The process was probably very bloody and cruel.
Thinking of this, Eric’s gaze toward the young man became sympathetic. To be considerate of his mood, he spoke in a careful tone:
"Were bad people hunting you? The merchant caravans can’t pass through in winter anyway. How about you come back to the tribe with us first?"
The young man’s pale face changed constantly. He forced a smile. "Thank you. I really have nowhere else to go."
After speaking, he touched the silver ring with an ancient pattern on his left hand and gradually sank into thought, his expression occasionally distorting.
"Eric, has the human you picked up woken up?" Michael’s voice came from outside the tent.
Max lifted the tent flap, looked the young man up and down once before shifting his gaze to Eric, and said coldly, "He’s alive. No need to bother with him anymore."
"But abandoning him... it’s very dangerous here, and besides, he doesn’t eat much food."
Abandoning the young man alone on the Fantasy Continent, the consequence wouldn’t just be turning him into Robinson Crusoe.
This wasn’t a small deserted island, and the dangers weren’t just cannibal tribes; various magic beasts and the harsh environment could all easily take his life.
That young man didn’t look like a high-level swordsman either. Eric had secretly checked; there were no calluses on his hands.
Swordsmen who trained year-round had thick calluses on their hands. This indicated the young man was not a warrior.
The young man’s body stiffened. The feeling of being hated and abandoned by Beastmen made him silently clench his fists, trying hard to restrain himself from speaking.
Michael chuckled as he entered, lifting the tent flap with one hand. "Humans are so weak. Leaving him on the coast isn’t that certain death? Let’s take him back to our tribe. It’s not like he’ll eat that much food."
If not for this reason, Eric wouldn’t have spoken up to keep the young man.
It was a human life, after all. Moreover, he had black hair, like his compatriots from his previous life. He couldn’t bear to abandon him.
Max’s expression wasn’t very good, but considering Eric’s feelings, he didn’t say anything more.
Thinking he was worried about the salt-making being exposed, Michael clapped him on the shoulder and said, "It’s fine. It doesn’t matter if a human knows. They can’t even get past the defense line of the Elves and the Golden Kingdom. It won’t affect us."
Not replying to Michael’s words, Max lowered his eyes to look at his cub’s expectant and careful gaze, then let out a soft sigh.
"Alright then, little chief." He said to Eric in an indulgent tone, but his eyes carried a sharp, threatening look as they swept over the young man.
The words "little chief" made Eric’s ears flush red. This feeling was completely different from when the Ox-Head tribe called him that.
Michael suddenly shivered, cringing at the cheesiness of the two, and pulled his hand back from Max’s shoulder.
"Then I’ll heat up some porridge for you. You’ve just woken up, so you can’t eat anything too greasy yet."
Finally getting Max to agree to let the young man stay, Eric beamed a radiant smile and said to the young man with the stiff expression.
"There’s no need, I..." The young man hesitated, frustratedly touching the silver ring on his hand.
"Hm?" Eric turned his head, his face full of questions.
The young man awkwardly retracted the hand he was about to use to stop him. "It’s nothing. I was just going to say, thank you for the trouble."
Smiling, Eric said, "It’s no problem. Get well soon."