Chapter 241 Bystander

Xia Nan watched the man standing at the counter, who exuded a gloomy aura.

He looked like an old, weather-beaten, bloodstained sword.

His dark skin, rough as sandpaper, bunched into deep creases on his face. Silver threads streaked his short grayish-brown hair, and his temples were graying.

A hooked nose and a prominent brow ridge cast his eyes in deep, blurry shadow, adding to his somber disposition.

Business was good at the Resting Dragon Lair. Since Xia Nan and his two companions arrived in the hall, plenty of customers had come and gone through the doors.

But no one else had been like this man. Without saying a word, simply by pushing open the door and walking in, he drew the stares of numerous patrons, hushing the entire hall.

The oppressive aura radiating from the man—a tangible pressure brought on by his emotional fluctuations and projected onto everyone around him—was the exclusive hallmark of the strong.

Without a doubt, this was a highly capable Adventurer.

Xia Nan guessed the man's Class Level was at least Level 4 or Level 5.

For some obscure classes with lower level caps, this was already the threshold for class advancement.

Considering that all the patrons at tables with a view of the door were staring at the man under the influence of his aura, Xia Nan didn't avert his gaze either. Instead, he relied on his Perception to carefully study him.

This middle-aged man, named Lawson, wasn't exactly burly, but he had a broad frame and thick shoulders. He completely filled out his armor padding, which was covered in bloodstains and grass clippings, looking lean and powerful.

His knuckles were slightly deformed from years of high-intensity training. Even when facing the trembling receptionist, his rough right hand remained resting on the hilt of the sword at his waist, ready to chop off the other person's head in the blink of an eye.

Just standing there, he exuded an oppressive aura of brewing rage and gloomy melancholy.

Anyone with a shred of sense would know better than to provoke this powerful Adventurer, who seemed to be on the verge of erupting, in a place like this.

Xia Nan's heart stirred.

He shot a vigilant glance toward the young knight who had just stood up—the man he suspected to be a pursuer from Nym, who hadn't yet approached their group.

Seeing that the knight was also staring at the gloomy man, Xia Nan soundlessly tapped his fingertip against the table, drawing the attention of Hai'an and Verol.

Through a silent exchange of looks, he signaled his intention to use this opportunity to slip out of the tavern.

To his surprise, the Half-Elf Hai'an—who had instinctively tensed up and prepared for a fight out of sheer trust when Xia Nan warned him, despite not knowing what was going on—relaxed upon seeing Xia Nan gesture toward the source of danger and spotting the handsome knight. His right hand, which had reached back for his longbow, dropped down again, and he even found time to raise his cup and take a sip.

"It's fine. He's an acquaintance, don't worry."

Sensing Hai'an's meaning, Xia Nan felt a bit doubtful.

'Did I guess wrong? Is this knight not a pursuer from Nym?'

Although he maintained his vigilance, he temporarily shelved the idea of fleeing the tavern with Hai'an to regroup with Wood and the others.

Meanwhile, the gloomy man standing quietly by the counter took a room key from the trembling receptionist.

With a dark expression, completely ignoring the stares directed his way, he walked slowly toward the stairs and disappeared around the corner leading to the second floor.

Less than a second after the man left, the entire tavern returned to its previous boiling clamor.

And the patrons clearly had a new topic of conversation.

They speculated about his Class Level, wondering what could have happened to make an Adventurer of his caliber act like that.

The young knight also withdrew his gaze.

His handsome face, framed by medium-length golden hair, revealed a natural, friendly smile as he walked straight toward Xia Nan's table.

Before he even reached them, his pleasantly surprised voice carried over amid the clinking of his armor plates.

"Young Master Hai'an, it's been a long time!"

The Half-Elf hurriedly stood up and, just as he always did, stepped forward to shake his hand and embrace him.

"Trevelyan, I really didn't expect to see you here."

"It's been almost three years since we last met, hasn't it?"

"To be precise, it's been two years and two hundred and sixty-one days, Young Master Hai'an," the handsome knight named Trevelyan joked with a smile, clearly very familiar with the Half-Elf.

His gaze shifted to Xia Nan and Verol behind Hai'an.

"And these two are...?"

Trusting him completely, the Half-Elf introduced them without hesitation, simultaneously explaining why he was so familiar with the knight.

"This is Trevelyan, the most talented Knight Commander under Duke Morton."

Trevelyan appeared especially humble at this, waving his hands repeatedly.

"That's all just blind rumor. Anyone else given as many resources as I've had would be just as good," he said.

"These two look so much younger than me. How could I dare boast like that?"

Though he was mostly being modest, to some extent, Trevelyan wasn't wrong.

Of the three people before him—leaving Hai'an aside—Verol had a fair, delicate face. Her Spellcaster attire added an air of mystery to her, making it impossible to guess her exact age; she could have been in her teens or early twenties.

And Xia Nan's body was young in the truest sense of the word.

It had been a year since his transmigration, yet he had only just turned nineteen.

A Class Holder under twenty would be hailed as a young talent anywhere.

And considering it had only taken him a little over three hundred days to train his first combat technique to Level 5, officially take on a class, and now near a level up... his progression speed was simply absurd.

It was to the degree that, if he bragged about it in a tavern, people would mock him for spinning tales that were too outrageous.

Not to mention, the combat techniques he mastered later were all high-quality skills far beyond the norm, making their proficiency relatively harder to raise.

Of course, there was no way Trevelyan could know all this.

Even though he paid a little attention to Xia Nan for being the first to notice his gaze, he stopped focusing on them after learning from the Half-Elf that they were guards.

Instead, he asked why Hai'an had come to Molten Scale Town.

"Where is Uncle Wood? He didn't come out with you?" Trevelyan asked.

"Still, Mr. Wycliffe must really be at ease to let you travel this far with so few people. If it were Duke Morton, the cavalry escorting his sons and daughters on a long trip would pack the roads."

Uncharacteristically, in the face of the knight's joke, Hai'an's expression noticeably stiffened, though he managed a polite, agreeable smile.

He didn't reply, merely lowering his head slightly.

Noticing Hai'an's reaction, Trevelyan frowned. Recalling the rumors he had heard recently, he realized this trip probably wasn't a simple outing.

Lowering his voice, he asked with concern, "Are things in Nym already that tense?"

Nodding silently, the Half-Elf looked downcast.

"They should still be able to hold on. My father and brother are both still in the city."

High-level political games were clearly beyond the scope of the young Knight Commander. Naturally, he had no idea whether his liege, Duke Morton, would step in to help.

Upon learning that their destination was Sticky-Tree Territory, he simply sighed with regret.

"It's a pity my brothers and I have important business here. We might be stationed in Molten Scale Town for months, otherwise I'd escort you straight back. But I'll give you the route we took to get here; we've already cleared out the monsters and bandits along the way, so there shouldn't be any danger."

Trevelyan's appearance was already an unexpected pleasant surprise, and gaining this extra help was something Hai'an hadn't even considered.

Expressing his thanks repeatedly, he insisted the knight sit down, offering to pay for the meals of the knights at the other table as well.

Since the Half-Elf was spending his own money, Xia Nan naturally had no objections.

Beside him, Verol didn't say a word. She had only smiled and nodded when greeting Trevelyan earlier, clearly unwilling to interact much with others.

It was strange. As the only Spellcaster in the party, Verol's reliable performance on the road had already earned everyone's recognition, yet she rarely initiated conversation with anyone. If not for the magical glow that frequently appeared during battles and travel to support her teammates...

Xia Nan would have thought she was some sort of "bystander."

But whenever she faced him—even for meaningless, casual chatter—that aloof demeanor of hers shattered instantly, revealing the normal behavior one would expect from a teammate.

Take earlier, for example, when he asked her what she wanted to order. It was just a casual question, yet Verol's previously calm face had immediately flushed with panic.

As if she had received an order, her amber eyes nervously and rapidly scanned the menu on the wall. Before he could even react, she clearly and completely listed out the five items she wanted to order—including the main course, appetizer, and soup—and even provided backup options in order of priority.

It made Xia Nan even more suspicious, prompting him to steal a few extra glances at her.

Pain!

The intense agony wracking every part of his body made even basic breathing difficult for Bogu.

With every rise and fall of his chest, as air flooded through his nasal cavity into his lungs alongside the thick, choking stench of blood, a sharp pain pierced every inch from his windpipe to his lungs like countless invisible needles.

In this state, let alone using Shadowstep Stealth which required Qi, even ordinary walking exhausted all his strength.

The outstanding skills he had honed over his two-hundred-year life could only be used to maintain his balance and keep him from collapsing.

As a veteran gnome Rogue with a Class Level of Level 5, holding the Gloomswamp Thief class, Bogu's body was on the verge of collapse after facing the betrayal of his party captain—a man he had worked with for years and deeply trusted.

His short stature, which had once been mocked and belittled by countless drunks in taverns before he silenced them with shadows and daggers, was now just as the bottom-feeder adventurers he looked down on used to sneer: not even as strong as a Goblin.

Wrapped in a cloak, even his leather boots, caked in mud and blood, were shrouded in shadow.

Bogu swayed as he walked down the narrow streets of Molten Scale Town.

He knew clearly that with his current physical state, staying out in the wild was a death sentence.

He had to use this precious window of time after shaking off Lawson to find a suitable, safe place to recover his strength.

It would be best if he could find a doctor or someone with healing abilities.

As long as he could restore his body to the point where he could normally use Shadowstep Stealth, he was confident he could completely escape Lawson's pursuit.

And as long as he could leave the Molten Scale Mountains...

Bogu felt the cold, hard object resting beneath the shirt at his chest.

He couldn't help but let his mind wander.

Before, he would have had to split it equally with his teammates, but things had come to this.

This precious treasure from the Red Dragon Lair, which held the secret to the rise of the Duke Morton Family, would naturally be his to enjoy all by himself.

Once he was safe, he would definitely—

Bang!

His wandering thoughts caused his already near-collapsing focus, which was barely held together by his will to survive, to scatter.

He slammed face-first into a burly figure stepping quickly out of a roadside shop.

His skull smashed heavily against the metal armor around the person's waist, producing a crisp sound like someone slapping a ripe watermelon.

His vision went black, and he passed out on the spot.

"Huh!?"

Carrying a full bag of supplies, Luca had just learned a simple, convenient, and delicious cooking method from the grocery store owner and was trying to remember what other seasonings he needed to prepare.

He stared at the short figure collapsed on the ground in front of him, dazedly touching the iron armor on his belly.

"I'm warning you, don't try to scam me!" Realizing what might be happening, his expression changed abruptly, and he shouted in a low voice, "My teammates are nearby. If you get up right now, I can pretend nothing happened. But if you—"

"Sorry, so sorry!"

He had barely finished half his sentence when two shabbily dressed men jogged over with quick steps.

They bowed and nodded repeatedly, their faces full of sycophantic smiles.

"The kid doesn't know any better. We'll definitely teach him a good lesson when we get home!"

Saying so, they scooped up the cloaked figure, tucking him under an arm, and vanished into the crowd as if fleeing for their lives.

From the moment the "kid" bumped into him, no more than five seconds had passed.

Feeling thoroughly baffled, Luca instinctively reached up and scratched his head.

But his right hand stopped abruptly halfway up.

His nostrils flared as he caught the faint, lingering scent of blood on his hand, and his gaze instantly turned sharp.

"See that, kid? Learn a thing or two!"

The middle-aged man in the shabby hemp clothes tossed the short figure clamped under his arm onto the ground.

Smugness practically overflowed from his pockmarked face.

"It's a good thing I reacted fast. Otherwise, if that big lug had ruined things, we wouldn't even have wheat porridge to drink this month!"

"Yeah! All thanks to you, Boss!" the younger man nodded perfunctorily, long accustomed to the other's personality. His hands, however, were already reaching toward the cloaked figure on the ground.

"I wonder who's careless enough to let their kid walk down our street."

"Now we've lucked out. If he's got fair skin, we might be able to sell him for double-digit gold coins at Rotten Toe!"

"A gnome! Boss, it's a gnome!"

"A gnome!?"

The pockmarked middle-aged man stared blankly at Bogu on the ground, whose face was covered in blood and whose breathing was faint.

For a moment, he simply couldn't process it.

He stood frozen for several seconds before bursting into curses, violently stomping his right foot in its torn, open-toed shoe on the Rogue's face.

"Damn it, why is a gnome bundled up so tightly!?"

"Motherfucker! Wasting my time, shit!"

"Boss, wait! There's something there!"

The young man's low shout brought the pockmarked man back to his senses slightly. Ignoring the hapless, breathless gnome, he followed the other's gaze toward the body's chest.

A soft, silvery-white luster was peeking out from beneath the shirt.

His eyes immediately lit up.

Just as he bent over, planning to yank the item out of the collar, a burly figure silently appeared behind him.

"Didn't you say he was your kid? Why is he a gnome?"