A week past, and the baghead butcher was finally nearing his first town since coming to this new world. They could have arrived here much faster, but he kept making stops for "provisions" whenever he got the whiff of bandits as they traveled.
Speaking of provisions, Ophelia eventually found out where the meat for all that delicious soup comes from. She initially wanted to vomit upon discovering this, but two things prevented that. First, her "Big Sister" suppressed her instinctual urge to upchuck (more on that later); and second, her papa told her she can cultivate great strength like he has if she does this. He even taught her the post-meal meditation method passed down to him from the cannibal tribe he found in the amazon, as well as the steps to March of Stalin as taught to him by that blind russian ex-gangster. He assured her that if one follows these methods, they could become at least a third as powerful as himself. However, due to interference from that same Big Sister mentioned earlier, Ophelia hasn't developed as he'd expected..
Let's talk about Big Sister now. 3 days after meeting the butcher, Ophelia was assaulted by another massive headache, after which she gained the advantage "medium." With this, she gained the ability to speak to Big Sister, and she even appeared as a second name on her status, oddly enough. Frustrated with her lack of progress, Ophelia finally worked up the courage to ask Big Sister why this was happening.
The answer was a simple one: Big Sister was directly siphoning the evil energy gained from cannibal cultivation, and using it to develop a totally different power-set inside her. She called this different method "urban legend cultivation," and informed Ophelia she would be just as powerful as papa because of it.
These assurances did nothing to assuage her worries but, luckily for Big Sister, an entirely different worry soon dominated Ophelia's mind as they approached town: "Papa doesn't seem too familiar with the local customs here. I need to make sure he doesn't accidentally cause troubles for us!"
Thus, after making it through the guard post, she immediately dragged the butcher to a nearby inn, bought a room, and shoved him inside it. "I have to go sell my dowry now papa, so I'll be busy until just after midnight. Please stay here and don't cause any trouble. Provided my now ex-fiancé doesn't discover us, we should be able to leave here first thing in the morning. But that is only if you behave and stay in the room. Understand papa?" She asked in a stern tone while donning a quick disguise.
He nodded in response and gave her a hug goodbye before sitting on the bed and staring at a wall. Several hours past, yet the butcher remained in the same spot like a robot who's power supply was severed. But, Just as it began to seem as if he would remain that way for eternity, a sudden sound roused his attention.
It was a unique sound, in that it contained both maliciousness and hopelessness. It was quite unlike any other sound the Butcher had heard before. He thus walked to the window and peered outside to search of this evil sound. He soon found it as his eyes happened upon a wagon filled with slaves, their chains jingling against the restraints.
He was shocked that such an evil institution existed here, but his stomach's sudden rumbling brought other concerned to the forefront of his mind. He furrowed his brow and paced the room. The butcher didn't want to embarrass his daughter but, as his stomach continued to rumble, he was assaulted by hunger pans fiercer than any he felt before.
His mouth salivated as thought about the many dishes he could have if he pursued this matter seriously. After all, with it being so brazen and open, this was obviously state mandated. So many souls were tainted by this evil, and the evil was so malignant that even pedestrians passing by the wagon couldn't escape its taint.
Finally, unable to resist the feast in his imagination, the butcher hastily carved a note on the floor and then opened the window. With a step, he was already on a nearby rooftop; his ravenous eyes closely observing the wagon as he shadowed it, like a hungry beast waiting to pounce.
The wagon, meanwhile, continue to roll along as it made its way through the town. It passed through the outer district, through the commercial district, and into the noble district, eventually stopping at the house of the lord in charge of this town. The teamster driving the wagon seemed familiar with this area, as he didn't even get off to address the gate guards before going inside. He was then led inside to a storage warehouse to the right of the lord's manor, never once noticing the fact that guards along the way kept quietly disappearing.
Upon arriving, the slaver immediately put a pep in his step and dragged the slaves off the wagon one by one into the cages already set up inside. It was tiring work, what with having to stop every once in a while to crack his whip at a defiant slave resisting transfer. This slaver must be very experienced, given the fact that even with said interruptions he was still almost finished after just a few minutes.
Indeed, It wasn't until a sound like metal scraping against metal echoed throughout the warehouse that the slaver lost his cool, almost dropping the keys to the cage he was currently locking.
"Who's there," he called out while controlling the trembling in his hand so as to finish locking the cell. He looked around, eyes darting back and forth, but was ultimately unable to see anyone. "Was it my imagination," he wondered. Moments later, thought, one of the slaves clearly noticed something. She even screamed at whatever it was before hurriedly banging her head on the ground and reciting cthonic prayers. The other slaves soon joined suit, causing the originally off-putting sound to become much more sinister and creepy.
The slaver, greatly frustrated by all of this, readied his whip to begin beating when, suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up in unison. Turning around, the slaver drew his sword and just barely managed to parry the knife coming straight for his neck.
"Pretty strong, I'm excited now... SLUURP," said the Butcher as he stepped out of the shadows to reveal himself, sucking back drool as he did.
"So it was you making that racket. Who are you? One of them abolitionist scum!" the slaver said in an accusatory tone.
The Butcher ignored his comment, saying "try dodging this," before throwing out another knife. The slaver obliged but, at the last moment, the knife glowed in a red hue before splitting into two knives. This split seemed to affect their trajectory, as they slipped above and below the slaver's sword, slamming into his forehead and chest. The slaver fell backward as a result, landing against the cage closest to him before bouncing onto the ground with a thud.
With the biggest threat in the warehouse now out of the way, the butcher inspected each of the 20+ slaves present before killing three of them. "The rest are too innocent. Don't touch my ingredients on your way out," he warned them before leaving the lord's manor. Many were too busy passing out to notice, however.