Chapter 1337 - 885: Fleet Arrival

Chapter 1337: Chapter 885: Fleet Arrival

"Isn’t it just!"

Fercheck tiptoed, trying hard to be seen behind the counter, and wiped a mud spot off his nose.

"Has the intelligence department gotten muddled from drinking magic energy wine at the port? That damned place has vines that bite people; Marsha’s boot got a chunk bitten off!"

"The ropes, climbing claws, and three days’ worth of dry food we brought were gone in two days. And the supply point has raised its prices!!!"

His voice was sharp, filled with indignation.

Marsha helplessly patted Fercheck’s shoulder and gave a tired smile to Korm.

"Trouble you, Mr. Korm. The main issue is the supplies being consumed far beyond expectation, especially the specially made anti-corrosion bandages and marsh disinfectant, which are deadly expensive and limited."

Korm quickly verified the vouchers while expertly operating the screen, sighing without raising his head.

"Ah, Miss Leah, Fercheck, it’s the same everywhere now. The void stuff at the front lines is too sinister, it wears down durability if it touches, and the wounds are ’contaminated’—if not cleaned, the blood limit keeps dropping. The special potions are consumed faster than drinking water.

"The rear... sigh, it’s hard to explain."

Lowering his voice, he glanced side to side, "I’ve heard the apocalypse rumor is spreading everywhere, causing panic, making raw material procurement tougher, of course prices are going up. And more and more people..."

He didn’t continue, just heavily tapped the confirmation key.

A burly man behind him, carrying a tower shield almost as tall as himself, couldn’t help but interject upon hearing the word "apocalypse."

"Hey! Shield brother in front! Have you heard it too? That old sailor with an eyepatch at the ’Drunken Anchor’ tavern yesterday claimed to have seen a purple-black crack on the horizon, spewing black smoke. He described it in vivid detail!"

His voice was loud, with a touch of Northern Lands accent.

"What! ’Drunken Anchor’? You believe that old one-eyed cripple’s words too?"

Daniel turned around and snorted disdainfully, though his expression didn’t relax much.

"But... Korm is right, the world is indeed becoming more and more strange.

"Monsters here are getting crazier, supplies stingier, and queues longer!

"This axe," he patted the double-handed war axe at his waist with ominous dark purple corrosion marks, "if I keep chopping like this, I’m afraid it’ll become scrap metal before I see a real big show. Night Watchers are good at repairing gear, but after fixing, the ancestral feel is slightly lacking."

Beside him, a dwarf apprentice weapon smith, wearing a greasy leather apron, was struggling to hold a bundle of arrow shafts, muttering in response.

"Get over it big guy, be grateful! Look at the pile of thoroughly ’withered’ junk in our shop. Void Power directly destroys equipment cores; now we’re short on refined silver ingots, and my master’s hair is almost all pulled out!"

A hum of agreement arose within the queue. An old soldier with a scarred face crossed his arms and sneered.

"Humph, those gold-decked nobles at the rear, besides claiming territory at the port, monopolizing tasks, inflating prices, what else can they do?

"Expect them to send supplies? Better hope the swamp mucus monsters start dancing!"

Besides the main supplies from Night Watchers, many external commerce associations also send resources here.

Including some noble groups, of course.

"Not all nobles are like that, right?" A younger adventurer quietly refuted, equipped well, carrying a hint of academic freshness.

"I’ve heard Mr. Sebastian of the Steel Shield Adventure Group represents the Royal Capital in diligently coordinating supplies, hasn’t he? Though..."

"Sebastian?" Daniel sneered, "That flamboyantly dressed pretty boy?

"Come on, kid, you haven’t seen him jumping in frustration at the Black Stone Pass outpost. Night Watcher’s potions got expensive, supplies not adequately delivered, he was as anxious as when his uncle’s merchant ship got attacked and burned by ’Purple Wing Predators’ on the Emerald Sea route.

"I heard him complaining to Captain Klaus, saying those big figures in the Royal Capital care only for power struggles, treating him as a messenger, and when it comes to actual resource support, everyone pretends to be deaf and dumb.

"Night Watchers? No matter how strong they are, they can’t magically produce silver and demon crystals out of thin air!"

"Yeah, exactly!" Fercheck bounced, a look of schadenfreude on his face.

"Captain Klaus, with his temper, slammed the table, telling Sebastian to relay: ’Either send supplies or deploy soldiers!

"If you keep making my people chop those crystal bugs as hard as rocks with dull knives, I’ll retreat the group back to the port, let those Royal Capital cronies guard their own gold mine themselves!’

"Haha, you should’ve seen Sebastian’s face, tsk tsk..."

The queue erupted into a short, suppressed laughter, filled with mockery of the nobles and self-deprecating humor about their predicament.

"Alright, alright!" Korm raised the volume, slapping Daniel’s team achievement points and new supply voucher code on the desk, interrupting the increasingly far-off complaints.

"Daniel, your squad! Count ’em! Next one!"

He rubbed his throbbing temples, gaze sweeping over the tired, complaining but still resilient-eyed adventurers in front of him, and the endless line behind them.

On the screen, the red dots representing high-risk areas kept increasing.

He silently prayed in his heart: in troubled times... hopefully, the news Fercheck brought back is true, that ’big treasure’ the Night Watchers are transporting really can break this damned stalemate...