Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat!

Ethan noticed the wary tension in Inugoro's posture and offered a disarming smile.

"Let me introduce myself," he said casually. "My name is Ethan. And you… Underworld Hound Tribe, right? Inugoro?"

"Uh… yes!" Inugoro replied, eyes flicking over Ethan's face—calm, youthful, even harmless. It was hard to reconcile that this very man had just wielded a giant ten-meter rhinoceros carcass like a weapon, tearing through the battlefield like some god of slaughter.

"Relax," Ethan chuckled. "No need to be so stiff. I heard that mule-faced guy mention your Underworld Hound Tribe is on pretty good terms with humans?"

At that moment, Inugoro felt an unexpected surge of gratitude toward that old rival he'd feuded with for years. Maybe… maybe that comment had just saved his life.

"Uh… well, not that close," he muttered. "We just—sometimes trade supplies. That's all."

Though Ethan emanated no killing intent now, the image of him casually mowing down enemies like wheat stalks was hard to shake.

"Oh?" Ethan tilted his head, voice light but probing. "Just trading supplies? Never thought of bringing home a human girl or two? You know, for marriage?"

Inugoro's ears twitched. He shook his head so violently it was a wonder it didn't fall off.

"No, no, absolutely not—never!"

"Really?" Ethan squinted skeptically. "Never, ever?"

"Really!" Inugoro looked close to tears. "Our Underworld Hound Tribe has never intermarried with humans!"

Now it was Ethan's turn to be surprised. "Oh?"

"He's telling the truth," came a voice from ahead. Clara, walking just in front of them, had clearly been listening. She turned her head slightly. "The Underworld Hound Tribe is one of the few beast tribes that hold that line."

With Clara's unexpected confirmation, Ethan regarded Inugoro with a newfound respect. The hound warrior glanced gratefully at Clara, only for Ethan to snort immediately.

"Where are you looking?" Ethan barked.

Startled, Inugoro stammered, "Uh… I-I wasn't…"

"Haha, just messing with you," Ethan said, his grin widening. "So, you say your tribe trades with humans pretty often? I've got a big business opportunity. Wonder if you've got the guts to take it?"

Inugoro's ears perked up. He squinted at Ethan with narrowed eyes.

"A deal?"

He studied Ethan more closely now. This man clearly wasn't local. Could he be trying to traffic something—or someone? It wouldn't be the first time someone approached their tribe trying to sell human "pets" to beastfolk. The old patriarch had refused such offers… and then died mysteriously not long after.

Inugoro's gaze shifted uneasily toward the group ahead—Nora Vance, Clara… and most worryingly, Dot.

Human children fetched outrageous prices in black markets. Especially girls.

But Beastfall City enforced strict control on such trades. If discovered, the enforcers would descend like hawks.

What should he do now? Refuse the man and risk being slaughtered on the spot? Agree and get entangled in something far worse?

Sweat beaded on his temples—but with the rain pouring down, Ethan didn't notice.

"Yes… a deal," Ethan continued cheerfully. "Tell me, what do your beast tribes lack the most?"

Inugoro hesitated, then looked up at the rain-dark sky. He answered honestly.

"Water. We lack water."

Heavy as the downpour was, it meant nothing here. Once these storm clouds passed, the desert would dry out within hours. The arid winds would scour the land, leaving nothing behind.

Despite the Underworld Hound Tribe's control over several ancient wells, it was never enough. The wells often dried up during the hottest seasons. They had to trade monster carcasses, furs, and crystal cores just to acquire barely enough water to survive.

"Exactly what I thought," Ethan said, slapping Inugoro hard on the shoulder—so hard the hound staggered. "You just help me sell clean water to your beast tribe!"

Inugoro's ears perked in disbelief. "Water? You've got water? How much?"

"Not much," Ethan replied offhandedly. "Eight hundred million tons."

He watched Inugoro closely, uncertain if the measurement units from his homeworld, Earth, even translated properly here.

Apparently, they did.

"AWOOOO?! Eight hundred million tons?!"

The shout nearly burst Ethan's eardrums. He grimaced and clamped his hands over his ears.

"Christ, stop howling! Are you a dog or a wolf?"

"S-sorry! Sorry, I got excited!" Inugoro bowed deeply. "Ethan, are you… selling all of that? What do you want in return?"

Ethan blinked. He hadn't even thought that far ahead.

Good question. What did he want?

Inugoro mistook the pause for calculated silence. With that much water, Ethan could name his price. Anything—gold, crystals, sacred beast relics… nothing was off the table.

But Ethan only rubbed his chin and shrugged. "Eh, I'll think about that later."

"Ah…" Inugoro's tail drooped in disappointment. All that excitement, dashed in an instant. So it was just a passing thought for this human. A whim. He'd gotten excited for nothing.

Ethan, noticing his deflation, tossed a leather water bag toward him.

"Here. But make sure you return the bag."

Then he walked ahead and took the lead, switching places with Uncle Jed, who had been deliberately navigating through obscure routes—probably to avoid other teams on the way to Beastfall City.

Inugoro quickly followed, saying nothing. He simply stuck close to Ethan's heels, no longer hesitant.

Ethan glanced back, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Hooked.

If you want the horse to run, you've got to feed it. Eight thousand tons of clean water—surely that was a decent gift?

What Ethan didn't realize was how much more valuable that "decent" amount really was.

Inugoro's thoughts were racing.

Eight thousand cubic meters of clear water…

Their Underworld Hound Tribe, with a population somewhere between ten to twenty thousand, rationed 500 milliliters per person per day. That meant a daily need of around ten tons just for drinking.

They hadn't washed anything with clean water in years—let alone bathed. That was an impossible luxury.

Their ancient wells produced only five tons a day, half of what they needed. The rest had to be traded for at great cost. Every monster core and beast carcass used for barter had been earned with blood.

But now, this human—this strange, terrifying, casual human—had tossed him a water bag that symbolized four entire years of water security.

And Ethan thought it was just a fair deal.

That was the difference.

He didn't understand the desperation of the Sea of Death. He had grown up on Earth, a world of abundance, and—just a few days ago—he had used twenty barrels of purified water… just to bathe.

If the people here ever found out, they'd probably tear him limb from limb.

This was why Clearspring City was untouchable.

It had the largest water supply line in the entire Sea of Death. Even the beast tribes, when they saw the Clearspring convoy, wouldn't dare rob it. In fact, they often volunteered to help escort it.

Because everyone feared the same thing: that one day, Clearspring would get fed up and stop sending water south.

Though its main customer was Beastfall City, the city itself had enough reserves. The excess was traded with outsiders like the beast tribes.

If Clearspring stopped, it would all dry up. Literally.

To rob them would be suicide.

And Inugoro… he had no idea that the bag he was now clutching tightly had come from a Clearspring convoy.

If he knew?

He wouldn't be so thankful.

He'd probably throw the bag back in panic—and run, far away from Ethan, the walking disaster.