Chapter 118: Chapter 116: Provocation

As Jeming stepped through the gates of Golden Harbor, a wave of noise instantly engulfed him.

Massive stone buildings intertwined with wooden piers, stretching in an endless line towards the coastline.

The sea breeze was filled with the mixture of saltiness, fishiness, and the rich aroma of spices, saturating every corner.

From afar, rough songs and chatter spilled out from the taverns, rising and falling.

The door to the Magic Guild glimmered with Arcane Runes, mysterious and enticing, while the towering Divine Hall of the Gods gave off a holy radiance, starkly contrasting with worldly clamor.

Jeming walked silently down the street, observing the surrounding crowd.

The bustling stream of people on the street was a mix of fish and dragons, showing all kinds of colors and personalities.

Luxuriously dressed human noble merchants, graceful and sharp-eyed, brushed past rugged pirates with scimitars at their waists and fierce, bloodthirsty glances on their faces.

Loud Dwarf traders hawked their wares by the roadside, their voices mingling with the soft whispers of Elf Rangers, various accents mixing to create the port city’s unique symphony.

Jeming—or rather his alias now, “Jack”—followed the crowd towards a tavern that doubled as the Adventurer’s Guild in the port area.

The wooden sign creaked in the sea breeze, with the crooked letters spelling out “Drunken Dolphin.”

If it weren’t for the adventurer’s emblem beside it, no one would recognize this as an Adventurer’s Guild.

Pushing open the battered door, a stifling mix of malt beer, sweat, and tobacco wafted over him.

The tavern was dimly lit, the floor covered in thick wooden planks with dirty water flowing freely, creating a chaotic and filthy scene.

Long wooden tables and benches were scattered randomly, with groups of adventurers loudly boasting of their battles or cursing their missions.

The air was thick with the oppressive aura of violence and the scent of decaying money.

Jeming, upon entering, drew almost everyone’s gaze within the tavern. Though the lively atmosphere remained unchanged, he could clearly feel the subtle glances directed his way.

After all, the profession of an adventurer might sound quite free, but in reality, the regional constraints are significant.

Most lower-tier adventurers aren’t very strong and generally do low-level tasks like cleaning sewer sludge, akin to Otherworld’s “Sanhe Deities.”

Work in a city is limited, so every newcomer attracts much attention.

Jeming, through Jack’s memories, understood these things but was indifferent to them.

Straight away, he approached the counter, handing over the slightly crumpled letter and mission certificate as proof of identity.

Behind the counter, the bartender was a fat Half-Beastman who took the certificate with his thick fingers, glanced at it, and casually tossed Jeming a few Silver Coins after confirming.

“Mission accomplished, Jack. Remember next time, don’t fold the mission letter into such a mess.” the Half-Beastman muttered.

“Got it.” Jeming gruffly replied, snatching the Silver Coins without a second glance.

He turned to find a corner to sit in, intending to observe the surrounding environment.

Just as he turned, a thin hand ghostly reached for his waist, attempting to snatch away the silver coin bag he just received.

This was the Adventurer’s Guild’s common “welcoming gift”—testing the depths of newcomers.

Unperturbed, Jeming continued forward, but with lightning speed, his left hand reached back, grabbing the wrist that attempted to steal.

Applying slight pressure with his fingers, a tooth-clenching “crack” resounded, twisting the thief’s arm into a startling angle.

“Ah!!!” The thief let out a heart-wrenching scream.

His body crumpled to the ground, convulsing and drenched in cold sweat.

Yet, Jeming didn’t even bother to glance back, leisurely heading towards the exit.

The tavern instantly fell silent, all noise abruptly stopped.

Too ruthless!

The move was too ruthless!

Adventurers’ eyes weren’t all fixed on Jeming, as many directed their gaze towards the table in the center of the tavern.

Sitting there was a tall, burly man with a face full of scars—”Iron Hammer” Carl, the local overlord of this area and the mastermind behind these thieves.

Generally, dealing with the thief meant Jeming had passed the test; no one would dare provoke him further.

However, his move was exceptionally ruthless, far more than a normal response—it was a blatant show of power!

Undoubtedly, this would be seen by the thieves as an open provocation.

Carl’s face was stormy enough to drip water; Jeming’s merciless action was clearly a challenge to his authority.

“This kid, doesn’t know the rules?” remarked another adventurer next to the table, seeing his boss’s somber expression, ready to rise and teach Jeming a lesson.

Carl snorted coldly, stopping his subordinate’s action, and waved his hand with feigned restraint: “Ah, just a newbie, he’ll learn the rules after some losses.”

Despite being a hulking brute, he carried himself in an affected, effeminate manner.

No one dared laugh at him, as Carl copied the so-called “upper-class” mannerisms, and those who dared mock him were already drowned in the moat.

The others at the table couldn’t help but laugh maliciously when they heard the words, all casting sinister glances at Jeming.

They knew this kid was in trouble.

Knowing their boss’s attitude, the others felt more emboldened.

At a table near the door, a lackey stuck out a burly leg suddenly as Jeming passed by, seemingly unintentionally tripping Jeming’s ankle!

A hint of barely noticeable sarcasm flashed in Jeming’s eyes.

His footsteps remained unchanged, and then without hesitation, he stepped on the outstretched leg!

Crack!

The crisp sound of a bone breaking was exceptionally clear in the silent tavern!

The lackey’s challenging expression froze instantly, replaced by extreme pain and distortion.

He let out a scream more piercing than the previous thief, collapsing to the ground like a broken plank, clutching his unnaturally twisted leg, rolling over and wailing.

This time, everyone in the tavern was completely stunned.

It was one thing when he went for the thief, but now he’s daring to take on “Iron Hammer” Carl’s men and even breaking someone’s leg directly?!

This kid is insane!

“Get him! Kill him!”

Carl’s face darkened instantly, no longer caring about playing the gentleman role, roaring with a torn heart.

Several henchmen who usually hung around with Carl had their eyes turn red in an instant, grabbing knives, swords, and bottles, and charging at Jeming!

Jeming’s lips curled as he looked at the scene in front of him, not a hint of tension, even finding it somewhat amusing.

Facing seven or eight burly men rushing toward him, he moved like a specter in the cramped space.

His moves were simple yet deadly, each punch and kick carrying terrifying power and precise angles.

Bang!

A sidekick directly struck the thigh of the fastest charging man, and with a scream, that man’s thigh bone snapped with a sound, sending him flying like a cut kite, crashing hard into the wall and then sliding down.

Crack!

Jeming slightly shifted his body, dodging a thrusting dagger, grabbing another person’s arm backhandedly, and twisted it forcefully, causing another crack of bone.

“Ah!!”

In less than ten seconds, accompanied by a series of bone-breaking sounds and screams, the seven to eight brawny men attacking Jeming were either kicked with broken thighs or had their arms broken, piling up like garbage in the center of the tavern, wailing incessantly.

The shift happened so quickly that none of these people even had time to beg for mercy.

The other adventurers in the tavern were now completely terrified by the scene before them.

They had initially thought they were about to witness an entertaining scene, but they hadn’t expected this newcomer to be so formidable!

Carl, standing behind all his lackeys, was fortunate to be the only “Lucky One” without broken bones, and seeing this scene in front of him, he couldn’t help but swallow hard with difficulty.

Seeing Jeming’s gaze fall upon the iron hammer in his own hand, Carl instantly dropped it as though it were scorching, disregarding his “dignity” as he stumbled and crawled out of the tavern.

The adventurers who had been eager to take advantage seized back into their seats, pretending they hadn’t seen anything.

They lowered their heads, staring fixedly at their glasses or nonchalantly wiping their weapons, terrified of catching Jeming’s cold gaze.

They could even feel the air thick with the scent of blood and iron, the testament to crushing power.

“Another tough guy has come…” Someone murmured in their heart, their face pale.

“Tougher than Iron Hammer Carl…”

Jeming glanced at those lying on the ground wailing, and then at those “spectators” trembling with fear.

Without further action, he walked straight to an empty table, picked up a wine-stained cup, and poured himself a generous cup of malt beer.

Intending to take a sip to match the occasion, he noticed the cup was stained with unknown filth, forcing him to give up.

With a disdainful tsk, Jeming put the cup back on the table and left the tavern with the same casual stride as when he entered.

His relaxed silhouette made it seem as though everything just now was merely an insignificant interlude.

Not until Jeming pushed the door and left, completely disappearing from their sight, did the tavern burst back into life with a sudden buzz.

Everyone tacitly avoided discussing Jeming, who had just left, instead engaging in more fervent conversations about other topics, as though this could chase away the fear Jeming instilled in their hearts.

As for the unlucky ones with broken bones, no one paid them any mind, and eventually, the tavern called a few adventurers to toss them outside.

Whether they survived to see tomorrow would depend on luck.

From this moment on, the Adventurer’s Guild in the Golden Harbor had a new, untouchable tough guy to watch out for—”Jack.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep