Ch-19 Humans never change!

Half an hour later, Ryan slowly closed the potion manual in his hand.

The manual contained detailed potion recipes and meticulous procedures for their preparation. While Ryan now had a theoretical mastery of potion making, the actual preparation required practice.

The delicate balance of materials and magic meant that even the slightest mistake could lead to failure. In this regard, Ryan's practical experience was essentially nonexistent.

After leaving the secret room, Ryan stepped outside the wooden house. He sprinkled some powdered potion on the ground and ignited it with a flame.

A pungent smell spread through the forest, carried by the wind.

~Rustle!~

The bushes stirred, and a werewolf, drawn by the scent, emerged and stood vacantly in the clearing in front of the house. Soon several more werewolves arrived and gathered.

Ryan grabbed his cross and effectively cleansed the werewolves with holy power. He also sacrificed their corpses to make sure the area was clear.

With the werewolf problem solved, the rest would be easy.

As Ryan returned to the village, the patrolling militiamen saw him emerge from the woods, their faces lighting up with astonishment.

One by one, they approached him, brimming with admiration.

"Mr. Demon Hunter, did you come across those cursed werewolves?"

"There must have been dozens of them in the forest, right?"

"If you need help, we're here to help!"

Ignoring their barrage of questions, Ryan casually tossed a bundle of bloody werewolf fangs to the ground.

The fangs, removed before the werewolves were sacrificed, served as proof of his success.

"I've cleared all the werewolves from the forest around the village," Ryan said plainly.

The militiamen stared at the pile of blood-stained fangs in disbelief.

"Werewolf teeth..."

"How many werewolves did he have to kill to collect so many?"

The realization of what Ryan had accomplished left them in awe.

"Gather all the villagers. I have something to say," Ryan ordered calmly.

The militia leader, now looking at Ryan with awe, immediately gave the order to sound the alarm.

The werewolf menace that had plagued the village for years was gone. In the eyes of the militia leader, Ryan was nothing less than divine - a savior who had performed a miracle.

Were it not for the inappropriateness of the act, he would have suggested that a statue of Ryan be erected in the village church.

Ten minutes later, the villagers gathered in the square.

Among them was the village chief, who stood stiffly and watched Ryan address the crowd with a sullen expression on his face.

Since Ryan's arrival, the chief had felt his authority slip away. His growing resentment simmered just below the surface.

'We have to find a way to get the werewolves to kill this bastard,' the chief thought bitterly.

As Ryan began to speak, the murmur of the crowd quieted.

"The werewolves terrorizing this village were no accident," Ryan said, his voice calm.

"This was a man-made disaster. The witch hiding in the woods was the mastermind. She's dead now, and I have proof of her confessions."

"However," Ryan continued, his tone sharp, "she didn't act alone. The village chief was her accomplice."

A gasp rippled through the crowd as the villagers turned to stare at the chief.

Some looked confused, others skeptical.

"I always wondered where the chief got all that food," murmured one villager.

"Turns out he was working with the witch."

"That bastard's been robbing us blind for years!" shouted another.

Sensing the growing anger, the village leader tried to defend himself.

"You can't believe this outsider! He's lying to you!" he shouted.

But his voice was drowned out by the angry crowd.

The villagers, consumed by years of frustration and fear, surrounded the chief and beat him to death.

"That's human nature," Ryan muttered as he watched the scene unfold.

With the werewolf threat gone, the villagers' anger naturally turned on the chief, the man who had profited from their suffering. Whether the accusations were true or not no longer mattered.

The villagers' hatred overrode any desire for justice or verification. After all, the chief had amassed their savings, making him the most obvious scapegoat for their years of torment.

Ryan shook his head.

Such actions were the result of greed and desperation, but he felt no sympathy for the Chief. The man's actions made him deserving of this fate.

Ryan turned and left the village. Despite his efforts to save the villagers, they paid no attention to him.

Instead, they rushed toward the chief's house, eager to claim his riches. Their frantic movements and selfish expressions revealed the ugliness of humanity.

"Humans never change," Ryan muttered.

As he reached the edge of the village, a young blonde woman in a flowing dress approached him.

Her unusually full breasts caught his eye for a moment before he recognized her as the daughter of the innkeeper.

"Why don't you join the others?" Ryan asked with a slight grin.

"Maybe you'll find something of value."

The woman shook her head.

"I just wanted to thank you for saving our village," she said quietly.

She stepped closer, hugged Ryan gently and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Yesterday was the happiest moment of my life," she added with a grateful smile. "I'll never forget you."

Ryan watched as she lifted her skirt slightly to keep it off the ground and trotted away.

He smiled wryly.

Life was filled with darkness, but moments like this reminded him of its fleeting beauty.

Still, he knew that such beauty would never be his to hold.

With a sigh, Ryan remembered the Britney still trapped in his portable space.

Of course, there are exceptions, he thought to himself before continuing his journey.