Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

The midday sun was steadily giving Tristan a tan as he walked toward the village. If not for his 'Clean Hands' talent, he would've been covered in blood from stitching Cutout's wound. As it stood, he was only covered by dirt and dust—unpleasant, but not suspicious.

The village was just a couple dozen houses, but on the close look, they were in a better state than Tristan expected. There was electricity, mobile network connection, and some cars. To the side of the village, fields of some bushy plants stretched in the distance. Tristan's skills gave him no information about those, and he didn't care.

A couple of small kids whistled and shouted at him from a safe distance, but a single stern look made them shut up and run back to their mothers.

Tristan went to the adults. At this time of the day, they were just returning from their job in the fields or elsewhere. They were as curious as their children, but somewhat more polite about it. They were also surprisingly welcoming.

Tristan had watched the reactions of these people to his approach closely, but none of them was too alarmed about his appearance or, worse, recognized him. No one had weapons, either. The village really must've been too small for the cartels to care about it.

On the question of where Tristan and his friends could stay for a day, he was pointed to a small house, which had stayed empty since its previous owner moved out. Now it was kept together by his aunt, who was happy to rent it out for some bucks.

The place was small, and didn't have the AC, but it was still cooler than the outside. There was a shower and a fan.

'It will have to be enough.'

An hour later, Tristan returned to the village with his team, and they settled inside the rented house.

"God, whom I wouldn't kill for a shower! I don't care if there's only cold water!" Kund groaned when he saw the bathroom with the shower.

"Cutout goes first." Tristan hesitated about going second, then decided he had other priorities. "Don't kill each other about your turns."

Instead of going second, Tristan went outside and bought some fresh food from the locals for himself and the rest. Only after eating, he finally cleaned himself up.

He missed civilization.

Cutout still looked sick, but just lying on a couch that wasn't shaking under him clearly did him a world of good. Tristan checked out his wound, changed his bandages, and concluded,

"We will stay in this house for a day. You better hope your infection goes down by then, Cutout."

Cutout grunted something affirmative.

Tristan huffed.

"Kund, Decker—I want you to access our supplies and tell me if we are low on anything. Clean the car while you are at it, too. Then also rest. I will keep watch."

"Don't you need to rest, boss?" Decker asked with a concerned frown. "You've been driving all that time."

"Yeah," Kund nodded. "I can stay awake—I've been sleeping in the car, anyway."

"Boss said he would, so he would," Cutout gritted from his couch. "He just can. Now shove it."

Tristan smirked.

"Your concern is misplaced. But appreciated. Now, as he said—shove it. The sooner you finish your work, the sooner you can rest."

With inward groans visible in their eyes, Kund and Decker went to the car.

Tristan got his laptop and buried himself in his online work. This was the first time in a while when he could, and there were things he wanted to check rather sooner than later.

It was peaceful.

It was still peaceful when the night came. Cuatro Angulos' communication told Tristan that they lost track of them.

Tristan considered staying here for two days instead of one.

He was still unsure about it when the night came.

By then, the supplies were accounted for; the weapons were cleaned; the car was washed; Tristan's subordinates were all dead asleep.

The sound of their united snoring was loud enough to shake the house's walls. It was something Tristan was used to, but still would rather avoid, so he went outside.

It was better to patrol a little, anyway.

The village was asleep, except for the night critters and insects. There was nothing threatening here.

To be really, really sure—because you never knew—Tristan climbed on the roof of the tallest house in the village and pulled out a pair of binoculars.

With them and his heat vision, Tristan could see far to the both sides of the single road going through the village. He could also see the fields again.

From up there, it was clear they weren't single-plant fields as he thought originally.

Instead, lines of taller bushes were grown around squares of shorter ones. The method of plantation which Tristan was very familiar with, even if only in hearsay.

And he recognized the plants in the inner square. He wasn't a botanist, but he knew his illegal plants.

'Those are coca plants! The locals grow coca plants and hide them behind… some other, less illegal plant. That's one of the classic schemes for this sort of thing. And they don't have the facilities for making cocaine out of the coca plants themselves, they are selling it to someone. It would explain why they can afford to live so secludedly and still have reasonably nice houses.'

Tristan was wrong about his initial assessment.

Maybe these people weren't deep with the Cuatro Angulos specifically. Maybe they weren't going to tell anyone about Tristan's location.

But the chances of this fell with every moment.

He put away his binoculars and went to wake up his team. Being experienced veterans, they slept in their clothing in hostile territory and were immediately on alert.

"There's no time for rest, team. This place is compromised. Get in the car and we will be going."

Tristan just hoped he wasn't too late.

He held that hope for another hour as their team drove over the night road.

Then a text message shattered it.