Chapter 166: A Dream That Never Was

The forest before them had already been flattened into a fan-shaped clearing by the chaotic blade energy. Okas had turned to dust.

“We’re saved!”

“Long live!”

The beastfolk swiftly wiped out the slaver squad. People clung tightly to the liberated slaves, celebrating their hard-won freedom.

“Thank you so much, Miss Ghostly!”

Sylvia exhaled in relief and stepped before Ghostly, bowing deeply.

“No need to thank me. I’m just doing a job for payment,” Ghostly said, not revealing her face, merely waving a hand. “What are you planning next? Returning to your homeland?”

“My people will head back first, but I still need to find another group of kidnapped kin, and figure out a way to earn some money,” Sylvia replied. She lowered her gaze, staring at her toes for a long moment before hesitantly looking up. “Is there really no way for humans and beastfolk to live in peace? We’ve done nothing wrong.”

The pig beastfolk ate people—it had nothing to do with the cat beastfolk.

“Of course not. That’s not something we can decide. Actually, these conflicts have little to do with race. Look at humans—they kill each other endlessly, and beastfolk are even worse. Think carefully: every year, higher-ranked races come to collect taxes and slaves from tribes—how are they any different from Simon?”

“…I see.”

Sylvia fell silent.

Lions, bears, wolves, pigs, and the most terrifying of all, dragon beastfolk—they not only didn’t worry about extinction but actively invaded surrounding races. Conquered tribes were forced to hand over massive wealth and manpower each year.

Slaves taken by them ended up as playthings or servants—already the best possible outcome. Most were sent to the frontlines as cannon fodder or used directly as mobile rations.

The Beastfolk Alliance and the Sacred Griffin Empire had clashed countless times on a small scale. The result? The higher-ranked races grew richer with each battle, while the smaller tribes like theirs were squeezed and oppressed by both sides, teetering on the brink of destruction.

Ghostly pinched Sylvia’s cheeks lightly. “Enough with that tragic look. This isn’t our concern—being weak is the original sin.”

Sylvia blinked her big eyes, sadness in her gaze. “If only there were a place willing to accept us equally. Work for food, have enough to eat every day, and not be enslaved or killed.”

“My dear little catgirl, even though the stars are out there, don’t dream while awake.” Ghostly rolled her eyes playfully. “There’s no such place. Even elves can’t escape becoming slaves. Only the sacred lands described in the rituals offer such havens.”

“You don’t seem very happy today. Do you need any help?”

Sensing the resentment radiating from the woman hidden beneath the robe, Sylvia asked deliberately. She wanted to build a good relationship with this powerful senior—it’s always beneficial to have someone strong to rely on.

“Don’t mention it. Seeing fox beastfolk being tortured to death today already made me furious. And then I ran into a bastard who took the corpses to whip them. Unfortunately, he was extremely cautious—I never found the right moment to tamper with him,” Ghostly said, her tall white form rising and falling with barely contained anger. Her fists clenched with a loud crack. “Don’t let me catch you.”

“So twisted,” Sylvia murmured, wiping cold sweat from her brow. She thought: indeed, everyone has their struggles—even someone as powerful as Miss Ghostly faces enemies she cannot easily handle.

Once the scene was cleared, they disappeared into the night.

Gogris felt dizzy. She seemed to have returned to the legendary homeland of the Silver Fox Beastfolk—the Holy Land of Usam plains, praised and revered countless times in ritual. Supposedly, there were endless cattle and sheep, fertile farmlands, and rivers flowing with milk.

Silver Fox Beastfolk returned to the sacred land after death.

Stepping onto the soft grass, Gogris felt an indescribable exhilaration. This grass felt exceptionally smooth.

She rolled on it like a carefree child for quite some time.

At the riverbank, she saw it: a truly white river flowing gently.

“A river… of milk! Incredible!”

Though reason and life experience told her no river could possibly flow with pure milk, she stubbornly believed in the sacred plains—and now she had seen it with her own eyes.

Hastily gathering her windswept hair, Gogris bent down and stuck out her small tongue.

“Slurp~ slurp~”

The rich milk left a lingering taste on her lips.

“I’ve never felt this good… ah, this is amazing.” Gogris lay back on the grass, a smile tugging at her lips. She pinched her cheeks. “I hope this isn’t a dream.”

“Waa~ it hurts!”

Gogris suddenly awoke, rolling over to sit up on the bed.

“So it really was a dream… Where am I?”

Looking around, she found herself in a stone house. A warm fire burned in the hearth, wood crackling softly. A young man in a black noble robe clutched a book but had fallen asleep.

On the bedside table lay a wooden tray. From a beautiful jug wafted the scent of milk. Gogris reached out and touched it—it was already cold.

“Looks like I slept for a long time… time to get up.”

The little girl shook her head, still aching. She tried to lift the covers but couldn’t move her hands. “So soft… the blanket is surprisingly comfortable.”

Her previous bedding had always been rough, pricking her skin like dry straw.

After struggling for a while, Gogris reluctantly pulled back the covers. She saw her body intact—not wearing clothes—but that didn’t matter. The important thing was the absence of gruesome wounds. Her smooth belly extended all the way down, perfectly unblemished.

“Another dream?”

The little girl pinched her cheeks again—this time, it hurt.

“He saved me.”

Studying Phield carefully for a moment, Gogris remembered bits and pieces: losing in the arena, being taken away… after that, she couldn’t recall. But instinct told her the person who saved her was right in front of her.

“A human… why? But since he saved me, he’s probably the only one I can rely on.”

Gogris understood that though she held hostility toward humans, in this world there was no one else to rely on. She had no way to survive. Even if the one before her were a two-headed man-eating ogre, her only option was obedience.

Quietly, she got out of bed and grabbed the wool blanket, draping it over Phield.

“Hm? You’re awake.”

Even with her careful movements, Phield stirred.

Opening his eyes, he saw a completely naked foxgirl on tiptoe, trying to cover him with the blanket. As for her chest… even as she leaned over, it didn’t really create any waves. She was simply struggling to place the blanket over him.

Unexpectedly, she cared for him right after being rescued.

“I don’t need it.”

Phield took the blanket and placed it over the little girl’s shoulders, wrapping her up. He could feel her body tremble slightly, then settle again.

“You’re not wearing clothes because you struggled too much. The maid didn’t put your nightgown on.”

“Mm, it’s fine.”

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