"Poor bastards."
All they had amounted to only a handful of things. The most valuable items he looted from them were leather belts with buckles and a magic box that spat out fire from its tiny round opening when the button on its side was pressed and held down. It would stop spouting fire when the button was released.
"Kicking their butts wasn't worth it. They've just wasted my time!"
The items he looted might be enough to buy food and water for a week. However, if the value of food and water was greater than clothes and accessories in this world, then the worth of these items would be even less and might not even cover uo the expense of one week of food and water.
Sal looked down at Thompson, Hanks, and Joe, sprawled unconscious in the alley, with utter disgust in his eyes as if they were the worst trash he had ever laid his eyes on.
"They are so poor, yet instead of working hard to make money, they waste their time talking smack about others and getting into trouble. They're a waste of oxygen and space, an utter disgrace to the human race."
Sal placed the things he had collected on the ground and slapped the unconscious Thompson while shouting, "Hey, wake up!"
"Wh—"
Thompson, who just regained his consciousness, was slapped back into the confines of darkness.
"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Why aren't you waking up!"
While saying these words, Sal slapped Thompson a few more times.
Eating Sal's slap combo, Thompson was jerked awake.
As soon as he woke up, he saw another one of Sal's slaps falling towards him.
He bowed and coincidentally dodged the incoming slap by a hair's breadth.
Then, he begged loudly.
"Stop slapping me, please. I will die if you continue."
It did look like that. Thompson's face was as red as a baboon's ass and as swollen as a man suffering from hemorrhoids.
Sal smiled, "Finally, you're awake."
"Sir, what do you want? As long as you promise you won't hit me, I will give it to you," Thompson said.
"Do you even have anything to give?" Sal scoffed. "Look at yourself. You have nothing! Even a beggar is better off than you."
"I have nothing? Even a beggar is better off than me?" Thompson muttered under his breath, his voice thick with disbelief.
Feeling something was amiss, Thompson finally looked at himself and saw he was almost entirely naked.
Except for his yellowish white stinky underwear, not a single piece of cloth was left on his body.
At the same time, all the items in his clothes was also taken away.
He looked around and noticed that his friends were in the same state as himself, naked save for an underwear.
Sal had taken all their valuables. What a ruthless brat!
He looked at Sal and complained "humbly,"
"Sir, you can't do that. You can't take our stuff and expect no trouble. Although we live in a refugee camp, there are laws in place that protect against thievery and murder. The Camp Leader won't be happy once he hears about this. However, if you don't want him to hear about today's matter, just return our items. I will act like you never stole from us."
Sal knew this refugee camp wasn't a totally lawless place.
The words of the Camp Leader were the laws of this place..
These laws applied to everyone in the refuge camp, whether they were mortal or spiritual combatants.
Big Joe and his henchmen were the biggest example of that.
They were going to kill the original owner, but when the Camp Leader appeared with Ann, they didn't dare do that. They left him with an inch of his life and backed off, going away.
Sal also knew these laws were rarely enforced against introductory phase combatants.
After all, Big Joe and his henchmen had almost killed him, but they faced no punishment. They got off without even as much as a warning. The Camp Leader took no action against them.
From this point, it could be concluded that introductory phase combatants definitely get special treatment in this place for some reason.
Anyways, unlike Big Joe, Sal was still a mere mortal.
He was yet to enter the first realm of cultivation.
In his current state, he couldn't afford to get in trouble with the Camp Leader.
It was naturally fine to give in to threats and return the items.
However, he had no desire to return his spoils of battle.
"Now you remember there's law? Did you forget it existed when you jumped me with your friends?" Sal sneered coldly, crouching to Thompson's eye level.
Looking dead straight into his eyes, he brought his lips close to the Thompson's left ear and threatened, "Listen, if you dare complain to the Camp Leader, I will have no choice but to return the stuff I took from you and your friends. But will getting them back be worth it if you end up forming a lifelong enmity with a spiritual combatant?"
"Y-you are a spiritual combatant?"
"Think about it yourself, how can a teenager defeat three adults without taking a single hit if there wasn't something special about him?"
Sal's words seemed to strike a chord in Thompson's mind, and he started to take Sal's lie for the truth.
There were two reason why that happened.
Thompson was a deadbeat, but he had some pride in him. It was hard for him to swallow that he and his friends were beaten by a mere teenager.
Secondly, Sal was a convincing liar.
"I will not take any actions against you. But I can't say the same about these two," Thompson said while sitting on his ass and pointing out his friends with his thumb one by one.
"I don't care about. But you should." Sal said menacingly.
"What do you mean?" Thompson asked.
"If any of you three cause trouble for me, I will hold all three of you accountable. A single word of complaint to the camp leader about me from your mouth or the mouths of your friends will spark an enmity between us that can only end one way—with the death of you three by my hands."
"Do you want to live in constant fear, always looking over your shoulder, dreading the night I decide to pay you a visit when no one else is around to save you?"
"Is that what you want?"
Sal threatened in a way that left Thompson feeling terrified to the point of being breathless.
"No, I don't. I don't want that" Thompson shook his head.
"Than I believe we have an understanding. You know what to do, right?" Sal asked.
Thompson nodded, "I won't dare say a word about what happened here to anyone. I will also force Hanks and Joe to keep quiet."
"Good boy."
As he spoke, Sal reached out with his hand.
Thompson seemed to recall getting slapped left and right and flinched like a terrified rabbit. He was afraid he was going to be manhandled by the teenager again.
However, what he expected didn't happen. He didn't experience the pain he was expecting as Sal didn't show cruel love to his punchable face.
He merely patted his head.
This patting wasn't similar to the love a father would show to his own. It was similar to the reward a master would give to his dog.
Thompson indeed felt like he was being treated like a dog.
"I knew you would be sensible enough to make the right decision even though you act like a rabid dog and bark like one too," Sal said to Thompson before he stood up. "I just hope you won't let me down. It would be a waste of my time to follow through with my words and kills three losers."
Sal said these words without a single change in his emotion. His eyes looked as kind as eyes and his face showed not a hint of fierceness. If Thomposon hadn't heard what he said, he would have thought Sal was here to do community service.
'Fucking psycho bastard.' Thompson cursed Sal in his mind. How could he say these words so casually? He was definitely messed up in the head!
Sal picked up the pile of stuff he had placed down and started to go away.
Seeing him going away, Thompson felt like a weight that had been pressing heavily on his heart had been lifted.
A breath of relief was about to escape his lips when he caught sight of Sal halting and that breath was suddenly stuck in his throat.
Why did he stop?!
Thompson's heart trembled, and he sweated profusely, thick droplets sliding down his forehead.
Sal turned around, looking at the man he had left terrified and looking like a baboon's butt.
"You."
"Yes?"
"I don't ever want to see you around me or my sister, or I will kill you. The same goes for your friends. When they wake up, relay my message to them. Do you understand?"
Sal's eyes that were like the entrance to a bottomless eyes were swirling with such thick murderous intent it was almost tangible.
A chill went up Thompson's spine.
When Sal said threatening words previously without any change in his expression, it felt messed up, but now that there was a change, it felt truly terrifying.
There was no denying it.
Sal would keep his words.
'Us three definitely can't dare to deny him.'
Gulping, he nodded at Sal. "I do."
Sal came acriss a shop after leaving the alley.
He went there and sold some of the stuff he had looted.
The shop was run by a very old uncle who proved to be a tough negotiator.
Although Sal tried his hardest to sell his second hand stuff for as much as he could, he could only earn 30 Banu Coins.
Banu coins was the main currency in this part of the world.
5 banu coins was enough for a man to get by for a day or two depending on how many times he was eating in a day.
People here in this refugee camp considered it a blessing if they get to eat hard bread once a day. So 5 Banu coins last them two days.
Sal had no intention of starving his already starved self and he also had to provide for Ann to not give the original owner who now existed as an anomaly a reason to stay behind after he had killed Big Joe.
Thus, he brought some packaged food and 2 500ml bottles of level 3 purified water from the little ship and returned home. His Banu coins decreased to a mere 5.
Ann welcomed him home.
Sal thrust half of the packaged food and one bottle into Anm Ann's hands before he went ahead and sat down on the makeshift bed, quickly consuming the other half.
Ann didn't ask the question in her heart seeing him so engrossed in eating.
She also sat down and began to eat but much slower than Sal.
Ann was sleepy. Right after eating and satisfying her thirst, she fell asleep.
Sal checked on her and confirmed she wasn't acting.
He immediately headed out.
Once inside, he climbed onto the roof of the shack.
He scrutinized the streets in his immediate surroundings and found them deserted. With nothing to cause disturbance and a dense amount of silence, this was a perfect environment for spiritual cultivation!
He sat down cross-legged and closed his eyes.
In his mind, he quickly went over his options.