The barbarian adventurer squeezed himself through the crowd with his tall, burly body, showing no regard for the dissatisfaction and curses of the people around him.
When Bartlett pushed his way to the front like a rhinoceros, he saw a half-elf standing next to the booth, loudly speaking to the many adventurers around him. Hiding in the shadows to the half-elf's left was a small dwarf. The dwarf was skillfully twirling a sharp dagger in his hand while occasionally puffing breaths.
Behind the half-elf sat an ogre who looked much taller than Bartlett. The ogre was sitting on a tree stump chair of the booth, devouring the steaming pig offal from a basin. The ogre used his hand to directly grab the tender pork liver, pork lungs, and the most abundant part, the stuffed pig intestines with garlic and onions from the large pot.
The ogre stuffed these pieces of pork into his mouth one after another, eating quickly without any consideration for the scalding temperature of the food.
The ogre was wearing a tightly wrapped full-body armor. From the metallic sheen reflected by the armor, Bartlett could tell that it should contain Demon Iron, and possibly a small amount of Secret Silver. This set of armor would definitely be valuable, but more importantly, the astonishing weight was not something just anyone could carry, let alone move in it.
Sitting in the chair across from the gluttonous ogre was a middle-aged man dressed in a brown robe adorned with pale gold patterns. This man did not eat pig offal like his ogre companion but rather held a slender pipe made from Photinia root nodules, leisurely smoking.
Judging by the unique style of the robe and the peculiar aura emanating from the man, Bartlett guessed that the smoking man was a magician.
He had not seen many magicians, and their number could be counted on his fingers. However, it was quite easy to differentiate magicians from ordinary people – all magicians had an indescribable distinctiveness and a mysterious faint sense of oppression.
It wasn't psychological. Bartlett heard that people with powerful souls would naturally emit an oppressive aura, and the souls of magicians would become stronger and stronger over time under the continuous tempering of Magic Power.
But this man, who looked like a magician, did not have the Septagram symbol imprinted on the left sleeve of his robe representing the magician's level, like his colleagues in the Magic Association, which made Bartlett uncertain about his guess.
A strange team consisting of a suspected magician, an ogre, a half-elf, and a dwarf, Bartlett felt like he had seen this group somewhere before.
The barbarian searched carefully in his memory, finally finding a clue in some corner: before he went to the Underworld, he had encountered this group in the Adventurer Association of Muya City. These people seemed to be regulars in the Adventurer Association of Muya City, often taking on special tasks that ordinary adventurers could hardly get.
What were they doing here? Bartlett was confused. Muya was located in the center of the continent, and above it was the nest of the Magic Association, the Sky Dome, Floating City - Arle Safir.
In terms of the number of tasks, variety, and rewards, Muya City could not be compared to any other place. Moreover, the environment there was cleaner, and the task procedures were more formal because magicians were most intolerant of chaos and disorder.
Even the Dog-headed Men and Goblins in Muya City had an air of politeness about them; if they were given a set of formal attire and a lacquer walking stick, one could hardly tell the difference between them and the nobles of human kingdoms...
As for 'Pig Bay,' it was located in the far west of the Griffin Kingdom, which was positioned at the bottom-left of the continent. The distance between 'Pig Bay' and Muya was not close. Of course, these people would definitely not be walking or taking a horse-drawn carriage, as that would take several months of travel time.
There was another faster way to travel. When Bartlett went to Muya City, he chose this method. Although the price might make one feel heartache and want to die, one must admit that it was indeed fast. In just an instant, one could cross thousands of miles.
Teleportation Circle, an almost perfect way to travel, except for the price.
"We'll pay 50 gold coins in advance as a reward! Remember, in advance!" Bartlett heard the half-elf shouting repeatedly to the surrounding adventurers: "If the mission is successful, we'll pay an additional 100 coins upon returning! And during the mission, all your gains, other than the mission earnings, will belong to you personally!"
They were actually paying the reward in advance!
Ha, Bartlett secretly looked down on these "half-assed" strange adventurers in his heart. Calling them half-assed was not a denial of their abilities, for as long as one wasn't blind or devoid of brains, it was clear that these newcomers were quite capable. Also, just by looking at that fully-armored ogre, one could tell he was not to be trifled with – no one wanted to become an ogre stew in front of him, nor did anyone want to risk their lives to prove whether ogres still ate humans or not.
But so what? This was the filthy 'Pig Bay', not the well-ordered Muya City where everything operated by the rules. These people had walked on wide, flat cobblestone roads for too long. They no longer knew how to navigate through the paths filled with sewage and feces.
"I! I definitely can!" An adventurer raised his hand high, his expression very enthusiastic.
"I've spent ten days in the Foggy Forest before!" Another adventurer boasted about himself.
"I've been there for twenty days!" Someone else wasn't to be outdone.
"I've spent several months there!" This was a lie; anyone with the slightest knowledge about the Foggy Forest could discern it. Unless, of course, the listener was a complete outsider to the subject.
"You probably spent several months inside a monster's belly," someone sarcastically commented.
"My XX has spent even longer in your mom's belly!" The liar retorted angrily, causing a burst of laughter.
Adventurers around were eagerly signing up. However, Bartlett believed that as soon as they got the money, you might never find them again.
This method of recruitment wasn't right, he thought. The adventurers here were as cunning as the winter wolves, who would give their all for a hunt only when hungry. If fed well in advance, these people would go to great lengths to slack off – and they were way more skilled in doing so.
Naturally, a well-fed person would be unwilling to risk their life.
Nonetheless, the half-elf did not let the noisy adventurers distract him. His gaze scanned the crowd from right to left, then left to right, carefully observing them.
He weighed his options, his eyes expressing pickiness, as if selecting a handy weapon at a blacksmith's shop. Or rather, these eager adventurers were no different from weapons hanging in a blacksmith's shop; the only difference being that weapons needed someone to wield them, while adventurers required gold coins to put them in motion.
Finally, the half-elf fixed his gaze on Bartlett.
The barbarian adventurer was undoubtedly an eye-catching person, as people would always notice him due to his burly physique. They would then gasp in shock at the ugly scar on his throat, marveling at how such an injury could not have killed him. Finally, they would spot his steely determination and composure.
Realizing the half-elf was observing him, Bartlett didn't want to be involved in whatever those people were up to. So he started to reject the request: "I'm sorry, but I don't intend to... "
"Young man, come sit down," the pipe-smoking middle-aged man interrupted Bartlett and gestured for him to join, "From what I can see, you are different from most people here. I have some things I'd like to consult with you about."
Me? Young man? Bartlett found this somewhat amusing in his heart. Maybe he would have been considered that ten years ago. He was 37 now, or maybe 38. He didn't remember clearly and wasn't bothered by it. Although humans in this continent had a normal lifespan of over a hundred years, Bartlett's decade-plus years of adventuring made him feel a tinge of age in his heart.
Moreover, you don't seem to be much older than me by the looks of it, Bartlett thought. But for some reason, he didn't turn down the man's request.
...