Chapter 350: Orcs Have a Future, but There Will Be No Orcs in the Future

Argon’s voice was heavy and mournful as he said, “The vampires did not deceive us. They indeed sent a Blood Ancestor…”

Charlot Mecklenburg, unable to shake the stoic elephantman Argon, found himself more shocked than his counterpart. Alarmed, he asked, “Why has the Blood Ancestor arrived but not appeared?”

Argon did not answer, his expression steeped in sorrow. He crossed the Red Dragon Strait, landing gracefully. Herolf, the Golden Ram, and Tumisan followed suit, descending to the ground. Neither made a move. Argon, as if oblivious to their presence, placed Charlot down and said flatly, “You’re a bad man, but inexplicably, I feel you’re actually a good person.”

“These past days, I’ve been deeply troubled. To ease my mind, I took short journeys nearby. I visited your city of Cappadocia and Saint Michael Island.”

Charlot was startled, exclaiming, “You’ve been to Cappadocia?”

Argon responded, “Do you know why I didn’t kill you?”

Charlot thought to himself, This elephantman is unpredictable. How could I possibly know why he hasn’t killed me?

Out loud, however, he declared with conviction, “Because I represent the future of the orcs. Killing me would mean severing the future of your people with your own hands.”

Argon’s face grew even more sorrowful. After a long silence, he said, “According to your method, orcs have a future, but in that future, there will be no orcs. Only a kind of being that can transform into orcs or into humans. They will choose to identify as human, and no one will call them orcs. If they choose to identify as orcs, no one will recognize if they were ever truly human.”

“I, too, have dabbled in Tumisan’s Beast God Transformation out of curiosity. I initially thought it was merely a superficial technique for changing appearance, of no practical value. I never imagined you could use it to integrate humans and orcs.”

“Charlot, you are… a genius beyond my comprehension.”

“A peculiar genius.”

At this moment, the once-temperamental Argon displayed neither his earlier irascibility nor his previously naive demeanor that Charlot had found so easy to deceive. Now, he spoke with the air of a philosopher.

Charlot chuckled and asked, “What do you think the future is? Is it staying unchanged and clinging to tradition?”

“Only a progressively better life can be called the future. The orcs need a better life, not one bound by outdated traditions, plagued by internal strife, poverty, and crises that even you, as a Saint-rank, cannot resolve.”

Argon was silent for a long time before finally saying, “As a child, I believed that if I worked hard and became stronger, I could help my people escape their suffering. Yet even after ascending to Saint rank, I couldn’t improve their lives. I’ve achieved many feats, but none have made my people’s lives better.”

Charlot replied, “Changing the world requires wisdom. Even if one’s power is weaker, sufficient wisdom can still bring gradual improvement. Power must be guided by wisdom to reach its full potential.”

Argon shook his head. “If you didn’t need power, you wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to deceive me.”

“Where exactly have you sent my people?”

Charlot shrugged, seeing no reason to lie. He answered, “I sent them to Cappadocia. You’ve been there, so you should know that orcs and humans coexist well in that small city. I wasn’t lying. As for Machubi, it’s indeed in my hands. Tumisan told me Machubi is the ancestral land of your elephant clan. I can return it to you so that your clan may reclaim their homeland.”

Argon fell silent for a long time before finally saying, “I’ll live in Cappadocia for a while to see if what you say is true.”

Charlot was overjoyed. This elephantman’s power was overwhelming, even against the combined efforts of Herolf and Tumisan. And that was without Argon wielding the Dragon Hammer, one of the ten divine artifacts of the orcs. Such an unparalleled warrior, if recruited, would be akin to Liu Bei gaining Zhang Fei or Cao Cao recruiting Dian Wei!

Argon stood, his joints cracking as his massive body transformed. In moments, he became a robust human man. Though still exceptionally tall, he now appeared as an ordinary, large human with no trace of his former identity as an elephantman.

Charlot realized then that Argon’s plan to “live in Cappadocia” likely meant hiding his identity and observing in secret. A thought crossed his mind: perhaps the human form of Argon wouldn’t even be able to defeat him…

But Charlot quickly dismissed this notion. Even if Argon couldn’t ultimately accept his ideology and turned against him, the risk was worth it. The potential reward was simply too great.

Tumisan wasn’t his subordinate. Herolf, the Golden Ram, was bound by a pseudo-master-servant contract. If Argon submitted, he would become Charlot’s first Saint-rank follower.

Argon growled lowly, seemingly dissatisfied with his human form. “I’ve lost all power in this form. Can you teach me a human secret technique?”

Without hesitation, Charlot replied, “I’m skilled in Blood Glory.”

Argon refused. “I want nothing to do with those vampires.”

Charlot pondered for a moment before suggesting, “How about the Dark Breathing Technique?”

Besides Blood Glory, Charlot knew few techniques. He had recently acquired books from Saint Michael Island that contained many ancient secret techniques, but he had only skimmed them and hadn’t learned or memorized them. Apart from the Dark Breathing Technique, his only other option was the Lamia Breathing Technique, taught at Behemoth National Academy.

Argon asked, “The authentic lineage of the Lady of the Black Moon?”

Charlot nodded. “Yes. No matter which god you worshipped before, from now on, do not betray the goddess.”

“Otherwise, I will undoubtedly act on her behalf to punish you.”

Charlot spoke with righteous fervor, though in truth, he was merely trying to bolster his own image.

Argon gave Charlot a strange look. “Do you truly believe you can catch up to me in the future?”

Charlot replied, “What’s so strange about that?”

Argon said calmly, “I’m only twenty-one, younger than you.”

This statement hit hard. At twenty-one, Charlot Mecklenburg had been nothing!

Charlot’s meteoric rise owed much to his encounters with both evil gods and the blessings of righteous deities.

After a long pause, Charlot muttered, “I can summon many helpers.”

Now it was Argon’s turn to feel stung.

As a pacifist and an outlier among the orcs, Argon disliked the Orc Assassin Alliance and had few friends.

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