In the direction of Muria's fingers, the air rippled. With ripples visible to the naked eye spreading from the fingertips of Muria and then touching the chest of the angry pale orc. Despite his apparently robust figure, with an arm thicker than a teenager's waist, the orc flew backwards as soon as he touched the ripple. It crashed through his own shabby hut.
The huge disturbance, along with the screams from the orc's broken ribs, immediately alerted the small village. One after another, the doors of the dilapidated huts were opened, and many pale orcs with wooden sticks in their hands came out.
"Who are you? Why are you hurting my master?" An old, frail orc, assisted by two female orcs, came out of the largest house in the village. After seeing the orc flicked away by Muria, he looked at Muria calmly, seeing that the orc was just an ordinary creature in their village, not particularly powerful. The power displayed by Muria wasn't enough to intimidate them.
