"Hey, Finn. Long time no see." As soon as Finn walked into the Moren Tavern, the bartender, Uncle Cowell, greeted him warmly.
"Yeah, it's been a while. I just finished a mission." Finn replied with a smile. He had a good impression of this one - armed uncle who loved drinking and joking.
"Good to have you back safe." Cowell patted Finn's shoulder affectionately. For an adventurer, that was a great blessing. He took out a cigarette, lit it, and offered it to Finn. "What would you like to eat? Sasha's here today, so you're in for a treat."
"The usual, thanks." Finn politely declined the cigarette and walked to a corner of the tavern and sat down. He quietly watched the lively and noisy place, feeling like a passer - by.
By "the usual," Finn meant three simple dishes: a smoked chicken, a plate of beef, and a glass of strawberry wine. For an adventurer, this was a rather luxurious dinner.
You might die in the wild tomorrow, so you gotta be nice to yourself today. That's what Finn always told himself. After months of life - and - death experiences, his fear of death had faded. He wasn't afraid to die, but he treasured every moment of life. Whenever possible, he tried to eat well and live comfortably.
Finn wasn't much of a drinker. He ordered strawberry wine only because there were no other drinks in the Moren Tavern except wine, and strawberry wine had the lowest alcohol content. He loved meat. Though he wasn't fat, he could easily finish a whole chicken and two pounds of beef.
Most of the customers in the Moren Tavern came to drink, and few came to eat. So Finn's food arrived quickly. He picked up his knife and fork, skillfully cut up the smoked chicken and sliced the beef, and then slowly enjoyed his delicious meal.
As night fell, the Moren Tavern got lively. Many adventurers would come to the tavern in the evening to drink and relax after a busy day. Besides drinking, the adventurers also organized some fun activities. Arm - wrestling was one of them.
"Is there anyone else brave enough to come up and compete? Are all the adventurers in Mill Town cowards? Isn't there a single real man among you?" Near the arm - wrestling table, a pale - faced, skinny man in black leather armor shouted at the top of his voice. Beside him were several others dressed the same. Among them was a huge man over two - and - a - half meters tall, standing out in the crowd. He had broken the arms of five adventurers one after another.
These outsiders were drinking and shouting. The surrounding adventurers were angry but none of them wanted to step forward. One reason was that the big man was too powerful. Of the five who had challenged him before, two were level - 7 ability users, and there was even a power - type warrior, but they all lost. So this big man was at least level - 8 or above. In a small town like Mill Town, a level - 8 ability user was a big deal.
Another reason was the inverted - triangle tattoo on these people's foreheads. It was the symbol of the Poison - thorn Mercenary Group. Although no one here recognized them, adventurers who often worked around Monolith City knew this tattoo.
A mercenary group is a large organization of adventurers. Many difficult missions can't be completed by just a few people. To get the rewards, many adventurers gather together to complete the missions, gradually forming powerful groups. Besides doing the quests from the Adventurer's Guild, these groups also often assist the military. They're similar to mercenaries, so they're called mercenary groups.
The Poison - thorn Mercenary Group's headquarters is in Clun Town, one of the three major towns around Monolith City. It's one of the top - ten - strongest mercenary groups around Monolith City and the largest one in Clun Town. However, their reputation is bad. Many adventurers know that the Poison - thorn Mercenary Group is almost like bandits, committing lots of murders and robberies in the wild. But because the group is powerful and has a level - 9 superhuman as the leader, many adventurers have to put up with them.
"Damn it. What a downer. Is there no one in Mill Town?" The usually noisy tavern was now very quiet, with only the Poison - thorn Mercenary Group members cursing.
"I'll do it!" someone in the crowd suddenly roared. The adventurers perked up and turned to look. To their surprise, it was the old bartender Cowell.
Cowell was almost fifty. It was said that he used to be an adventurer. After losing an arm and becoming disabled, he became a bartender and lived a stable and comfortable life.
When many adventurers saw Cowell step forward, they were first stunned, and then worried. The old guy might be a bit of a flirt, but he was well - liked. Most of the regular adventurers in the tavern had a good relationship with him.
"Old man, you only have one arm left. If this one gets broken, you'll have to eat like a dog, licking the food off the ground." The big man looked at Cowell with contempt, clearly not taking him seriously. The other Poison - thorn Mercenary Group members laughed loudly.
"Haha, kid. Are you all talk like a girl? We'll see whose arm gets broken after we compete." Cowell had been in the tavern for a long time, and he was good with words. His hearty laughter got the surrounding adventurers cheering. Whether he won or lost, Cowell's courage to challenge the Poison - thorn Mercenary Group deserved praise.
"You're in for it." The big man bent down and put his arm on the table.
"Come on!" Cowell lifted his greasy sleeve with his mouth, showing his muscular arm, and reached out to shake hands with the big man.