Chapter 32: The Lizard People (II)

“The average lifespan of a lizardman is even lower than that of a human. Typically, the proportion of young lizardmen is less than half that of adults. Lizardmen live in a patriarchal society, so the strongest warrior is usually the chieftain,” Bowen explained as he walked ahead.

Everyone knew how vast his knowledge was, especially the members of the Arcane Society. Since his admission, Bowen had either been in his own laboratory or buried in the library. In just a few years, he had nearly gone through every book the library had to offer.

“Gone through” was the right term! At first, people mocked him, but they were soon silenced. Not long after, Bowen submitted a paper that was immediately accepted. As time went on, by his second year, he was submitting almost one paper per week, with the acceptance rate rising from thirty percent to eighty percent. Even with the reviewers intentionally raising the standards, the overall quality and the passing rate of papers at the academy dropped sharply.

Even the professors were often astonished by Bowen’s depth of knowledge. His erudition was nearly on par with the “Archivist Scholars” of Sevenon.

Lispell gave an indignant huff, casting him a sidelong glance. In that instant, her beauty was striking; Bowen’s heart wavered.

He looked at her, took a subtle breath, and continued, “Male lizardmen rarely die of old age. Their whole lives are spent fighting—either challenging other tribes or their own chieftains.”

“Doesn’t that mean they’re pretty much all warriors?” Dalenna asked.

“More or less! Lizards possess remarkable regenerative abilities—even severed limbs will regrow in time. Of course, there’s always a price to pay. After their recent clash with the army, they surely suffered casualties. Recovery from injury shortens their lifespan. Lizardmen have a peculiar custom: those who haven’t died in battle or are nearing the end of their lives lie on sun-warmed rocks. These lizardmen can no longer contribute to the tribe, and they rarely receive food.”

“What? They’re simply cast aside, not even given food?” Everyone was shocked.

“Do you know what happens when these lizardmen die?” Bowen’s smile was enigmatic as he looked at them.

The group was stunned. Before anyone could speak, Bowen answered, “Their bodies are eaten by other tribe members in a ritual. They believe this allows them to remain part of the tribe.”

Cannibalism.

Given that lizardmen were humanoid, the thought immediately conjured unpleasant images.

“Ah!”

“…"

Dalenna and Jennifer couldn’t take it, covering their mouths. The other members of the Arcane Society looked uneasy.

Haberwick obviously already knew, but was curious where Bowen had learned all this—and why he was provoking them.

After another ten minutes of walking—

“Stop!” Bowen raised his hand, signaling them to halt and spoke softly.

Everyone quieted their steps and moved behind a rock, spotting seven or eight lizardmen sunning themselves in the distance.

Now, the Arcane Society members looked at them with less hostility, even with a hint of pity.

Bowen chuckled quietly and whispered, “Don’t assume the old, weak, or sick are harmless. Their attitude toward other races divides the world into prey and predator. Don’t let your compassion run rampant.”

“Understood.”

Everyone quickly composed themselves.

Bowen began assigning tasks.

“Alright. Cook and Beron, use your bows to take out the two in front. President, you and Haberwick handle the three in the middle. The rest are mine.”

“What about us?” Dalenna asked anxiously.

Bowen glanced at Dalenna and Jennifer. Dalenna was fine, but Jennifer still hadn’t recovered from her shock. He shook his head.

Her nerves were far too fragile.

“We’re close to the lizardman settlement. You two make sure none of them send out a signal.”

The girls exchanged glances and nodded.

Bowen double-checked every detail, then spread them out.

“Ready!”

“One, two, three—now!”

Four arrows shot out, burying themselves in the lizardmen’s heads.

Bowen’s steel crossbow fired three bolts in quick succession, dispatching two more. Six lizardmen were down.

The remaining two lizardmen, seasoned fighters, rolled aside as soon as they sensed danger, dodging the next volley of arrows.

Without hesitation, they bolted toward the tribe.

Just as they were about to shout, two magical rays struck them, rendering them unable to make a sound.

Thwack, thwack…

Several arrows pierced the fleeing lizardmen, dropping them. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Bowen drew his longsword and leaped out, Haberwick following, finishing off the fallen lizardmen.

The Arcane Society members were all under twenty, barely more than children, most had never even killed a chicken. To suddenly kill several “people”—well, humanoid creatures—was unsettling.

When Bowen and the ranger returned with bloody swords, Jennifer retched at the sight.

The others paled as well.

Bowen said nothing, leaving Haberwick to watch them while he patrolled the area.

After circling twice, he picked a high vantage point.

Muttering a spell, Bowen used “Flight” to reach the top of a rock and gaze deep into the marsh.

“Hawkeye.”

A magical gleam shone in his eyes; Bowen could even see the bone ornaments worn by lizardmen in the settlement.

“System! Analyze the lizardman tribe!”

“Ding! Authorization complete. Gathering information…”

The Arcane Eye could not see so far, but with the spell matrix loaded into his chip, its calculations achieved a similar effect.

A faint smile played on Bowen’s lips as a cascade of blue, illusory data streams flowed before his vision.

Soon, a three-dimensional map of the lizardman tribe appeared before him.

Bowen glanced at the chip’s tally—nearly seventy-four lizardmen.

He returned to the rendezvous point and shared his findings.

On hearing there were over seventy lizardmen, everyone was stunned.

“Damn it! The intelligence said it was just a remnant tribe with a single survivor. How could there be so many?” Cook fumed.

“This is a conspiracy.”

“Someone wants us dead…”

Fresh out of the Ivory Tower, the group had never experienced anything like this. Whether it was the battlefield left behind after the army’s ambush in the forest, or the death of the battle mage, all had shaken them deeply.

If the lizardmen discovered them, they couldn’t possibly outrun creatures born and bred in the marsh.

The fear of death gnawed at their nerves, threatening to unravel them.

Bowen watched them silently.

Along this journey, he’d already discerned the intentions of the kingdom and the academy’s leadership.

With memories from his previous life, he understood.

War.

Especially racial war—there is no such thing as perfect intelligence; surprises lurk at every turn.

Thankfully, the surrounding lizardmen had been cleared. After venting their emotions, the group sat in embarrassed silence, faces flushed.

Lispell was the first to recover. Though she didn’t know what Bowen planned, he was the most knowledgeable about lizardmen. She recalled the earlier incident at the black market and the elimination of the outer lizardmen. Something clicked in her mind.

Her tense expression faded, a smile returned to her lips, and she resumed her confident demeanor as president of the Arcane Society.

The others noticed her change and gradually recovered themselves.

After all, they were just adolescents—at this age on Earth, they would still be in high school. Even new recruits tremble their first time in battle, let alone when confronted by death.

Bowen nodded quietly. They really were the best the academy had to offer—noble upbringing played its part, too.

The ranger watched Bowen intently, curious to see his next move.

Under everyone’s gaze, Bowen expressionlessly took a long iron bar from his pack.

Puzzled, they watched as he placed a bunch of weeds in front of them.

“Fishbane?” the ranger recognized the plant.

Fishbane, also known as catching grass, can numb fish in rivers.

Bowen nodded. “There’s plenty of fishbane around here. Gather as much as you can, but don’t alert the lizardmen tribe.”

He then began tinkering with items from his pack.

“Is he going to use this to numb the lizardmen?”

Fishbane’s numbing effect is weak—not even effective on humans. Lizardmen, omnivores accustomed to swamp life, often eat it, especially when food is scarce.

Bowen clearly understood the plant’s properties. The ranger was perplexed, but led the others to collect it anyway.

Soon, they piled up a heap of fishbane.

They watched Bowen set up a platform, mystified.

Beron’s eyes widened in surprise, whispering, “An alchemy table?”

The others realized it too—the more they looked, the more it resembled an alchemy table.

…