amaotonovel Chapter 263 [Empire] Mercenary Street
Chapter 263 [Empire] Mercenary Street
When I woke up, Wen Ya wasn't home. The room was still tidy and quiet, his things neatly arranged. I quickly washed up and sneaked out, knowing full well that I absolutely couldn't let Wen Ya know about my itinerary.
I found my way back to the place Luo Xun had taken me to before—a hidden alleyway dedicated to mercenaries conducting trades and completing quests. This neighborhood, tucked away in a corner of the city, had no signs or directions. On the surface, it looked like just another ordinary street, even a bit plain. Along the way, there were a few small snack stalls, and the air was filled with the aroma of barbecue and the hushed sounds of people chatting.
The streets are bustling with people, and the various clothes and equipment show the unique atmosphere here. Compared with the glamorous city scenes outside, this place seems simple and prosperous.
At first glance, this street seems to be an ordinary trading area, with hawking sounds and footsteps intertwined, pedestrians coming and going, and the atmosphere is surprisingly leisurely.
However, the deeper I ventured, the stranger this street became. Beneath the bustling scene, a disturbing atmosphere lurked. The vendors wore a subtle wariness, and passersby occasionally flashed a glint of inquiry and scrutiny, as if secretly assessing my background and strength. I knew this was a place teeming with danger.
After turning a few hidden corners, I finally came upon the unassuming mission hall. A tattered wooden sign hung on its door, seemingly ready to fall off at any moment, yet the electronic device at the entrance was clearly trained on everyone who passed. As I pushed the door open, I felt several gazes sweeping over me from the corners of the hall, their gazes filled with undisguised scrutiny and suspicion.
The mission announcement screen flickered dimly, hanging in a corner that seemed long neglected. I walked over and scanned the mission list on the screen. Most of them were extremely risky objectives: hunting some kind of exotic beast, recovering out-of-control combat plants, and even a few assassination requests directly targeting specific individuals.
It's really blatant and undisguised.
However, before I could successfully take on the task, trouble arose.
Standing at the information registration counter, I tried to maintain a calm expression, but the registration clerk in front of me—a burly, muscular man with a stubbled face—was looking me up and down with a look of complete impatience. His brow was slightly furrowed, and his arms were crossed over his chest, as if he was examining a piece of substandard merchandise.
"Are you here to register?" He spoke in a low, hoarse voice, his tone filled with sarcasm. "Kid, have you come to the wrong place? This is not a place for you to play."
I took a deep breath and tried to suppress the helplessness in my heart: "I didn't go wrong. I came here to accept the mission."
As he spoke, the muscles in his arms tensed slightly, as if deliberately demonstrating his strength. He then pointed his thick fingers at the screen and said, "This is a place where you exchange your life for money. This is not a place for people like you to test your courage. Do you understand, kid?"
"I'm not a kid!" I gritted my teeth and protested in a low voice, "I can take on the mission. You just need to let me register!"
"Register?" He sneered, pointing to a massive iron glove hanging beside the counter. It had several terrifying deep indentations on it. "Take a look at this. Do you know what this is? Last time, a junior mercenary refused to obey, and was 'digested' by a simple mission, leaving only this."
He glanced at me with an expression that said "Do you want to try it too?", then turned his head away and ignored me, obviously rejecting my request.
I stood there, feeling a bit annoyed but helpless. I wanted to bite the bullet and fight for it, but the burly man's attitude told me this matter wouldn't be so easy to resolve. Not to mention the occasional glances from those around me, all filled with scrutiny and mockery.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I figured I knew what to do.
Looking down at my slender fingers, I silently chanted a mantra. I felt a surge of warmth flow through my fingertips, quickly spreading throughout my limbs. Layer upon layer of "Emergency Hercules" buffs, and the feeling of strength surged like a rising tide, filling every inch of muscle.
I slowly walked over to the counter, my eyes settling on the massive glove—metal, stained with a few dark red spots of dried blood, looking like the trophy of some ferocious beast. I reached out and plucked the glove from its holder. The heavy weight made my wrist throb, but that was all.
Everyone around me turned to look at me, and the burly man also showed an interested expression, as if waiting to see me make a fool of myself.
I didn't have any extra explanations, I just curled my lips slightly, put the gloves between my hands, adjusted my posture slightly, and then clenched them firmly.
"Crack!" The metal twisted and deformed under the immense force, becoming as crisp as a piece of paper. I could feel the steel structure crumble in my hands, until it was finally compressed into a solid metal lump, its edges and corners gone, only the rounded surface still retaining a trace of warmth.
There was dead silence.
I let go of my hand and let the piece of metal fall to the ground. "Bang!" It made a dull sound and then rolled towards the gate along the ground, making a series of low impact sounds, which caused silence in the venue.
I clapped my hands, as if brushing off invisible dust, then looked up at the burly man: "Is this enough?"
The corner of the sturdy man's mouth twitched, as if he had not yet recovered from the scene just now, but he quickly regained his composure, and his eyes became complex and sharp.
"Okay." He managed a word, "I'll help you climb it."
I smiled faintly, approached the counter, and began filling out my information. Behind me, someone couldn't help but sigh, "This kid's quite interesting..."
The man had the appearance of someone transitioning from youth to middle age, with deep features and a brow that exuded a sense of calmness that comes from a seasoned life. He looked slightly older, but in this era, appearance could never be used to judge true age.
After all, people have long mastered the technology to control their appearance. Some people choose to freeze themselves in the prime of their youth, while others, for various reasons, adjust themselves to look older than their actual age.
Gathered here are a group of people who live with danger—mercenaries, adventurers, and even desperadoes who risk their lives on the edge of a knife. Their faces are often their calling cards, and those who deliberately choose to appear older or weathered are often using their appearance to build their own "deterrence."
Some choose to look older, so their enemies will underestimate their strength; others disguise themselves with a youthful appearance to conceal their inner cunning and coldness. The man before him, however, appeared to be somewhere in between, as if trying to maintain a sense of reliability without losing a touch of edge.