Translator: AnubisTL
As Jieming stepped through the gates of Golden Harbor, a wave of clamor instantly engulfed him.
Massive stone buildings intertwined with wooden docks, stretching in dense rows all the way to the coastline.
The sea wind carried a pungent mix of salty dampness, fishy odors, and the rich aroma of spices, permeating every corner of the city.
In the distance, raucous singing and boisterous laughter rose and fell from the taverns.
Arcane runes flickered faintly on the gates of the Magic Guild, mysterious and alluring, while the towering Temple of the Gods radiated a sacred glow, a stark contrast to the worldly clamor.
Jieming walked silently through the streets, observing the bustling crowds.
The streets teemed with a motley mix of people, each displaying their unique character.
Humans—nobles and merchants in opulent attire, their movements refined and eyes shrewd—brushed past rugged pirates, their curved blades strapped to their waists, their fierce gazes betraying the bloodthirsty aura of men who had tasted battle.
Loud-voiced dwarven merchants hawked their wares at the roadside, their booming calls mingling with the soft whispers of elven rangers in conversation. The cacophony of accents formed the unique soundscape of this port city.
Jieming—or rather, his current alias, "Jack"—followed the flow of people toward a tavern in the port district that also served as an adventurer's guild.
The wooden sign creaked in the sea wind, its crooked letters spelling out "Drunken Dolphin."
If not for the adventurer's emblem beside it, no one would have recognized it as an adventurer's guild.
Pushing open the dilapidated door, a murky stench of ale, sweat, and tobacco smoke assaulted his nostrils.
The tavern's dim lighting illuminated a thick layer of wooden planks covering the floor, which was stained with dirty water and looked utterly filthy.
Long wooden tables and benches were scattered haphazardly, where groups of adventurers gathered in small clusters, shouting boisterously, boasting of their exploits, or cursing their missions.
The air hung thick with suppressed violence and the corrupting scent of money.
The moment Jieming entered, he drew the gaze of nearly everyone in the tavern. Though the tavern's boisterous atmosphere remained unchanged, he could clearly sense their subtle, lingering glances.
After all, while the profession of adventurer might sound remarkably free, it was actually heavily restricted by regional limitations.
After all, most low-level adventurers weren't particularly strong and typically handled menial tasks like clearing sludge from underground tunnels—the equivalent of the "Three Great Gods" of this world.
With limited job opportunities in the city, every newcomer drew considerable attention.
Jieming was well aware of this through Jack's memories, but he chose to ignore it.
He strode directly to the counter and handed over the somewhat tattered, folded letter and the Mission Credentials that verified his identity.
The bartender, a stout Half-Orc, took the credentials with his thick, stubby fingers, glanced at them to confirm their validity, and casually tossed Jieming a few silver coins.
"Mission complete, Jack. Next time, remember not to fold the mission letter into such a mess," the Half-Orc grumbled.
"Got it," Jieming replied gruffly, grabbing the silver coins without a second glance.
He turned to find a corner to sit in, intending to observe his surroundings.
But the moment he turned, a slender hand darted toward his waist like a phantom, attempting to snatch the pouch of silver coins he had just received.
This was a common "greeting gift" at the adventurer's guild—a test to gauge the newcomer's strength.
Jieming continued walking forward as if oblivious, but his left hand shot back like lightning, seizing the wrist of the would-be thief.
With a slight tightening of his fingers, a sickening crack echoed through the tavern as he twisted the thief's arm into a horrifying angle.
"Aaaah!!!" The thief's heart-wrenching scream tore through the air.
His body went limp, collapsing to the floor where he convulsed, drenched in cold sweat.
Jieming didn't even bother to glance back, calmly striding toward the exit.
The tavern fell silent for a moment, all chatter abruptly ceasing.
Too ruthless!
His strike was too ruthless!
Yet not all eyes were fixed on Jieming. Many gazes instead converged on the central table where a hulking brute with a face full of scars sat—"Iron Hammer" Karl, the local gang boss and mastermind behind the thieves.
Normally, dealing with the pickpocket would have been enough for Jieming to pass the test, deterring any further trouble.
However, his actions were far too ruthless—this wasn't a mere response; it was a blatant display of dominance!
Without a doubt, the thief gang would see this as a naked provocation.
Karl's face darkened to the point where it seemed water could drip from it. Jieming's merciless approach was a direct challenge to his authority.
"Does this kid not know the rules?" Another adventurer at the table, noticing his boss's grim expression, immediately prepared to rise and teach Jieming a lesson.
Karl snorted coldly, halting his subordinate with a dismissive wave. "Ah, he's just a newcomer. He'll learn the rules after taking a few losses."
Despite his burly physique, Karl adopted an affected, delicate demeanor.
Yet no one dared mock him. Karl's affectations were deliberate imitations of the "upper class," and anyone who had dared to laugh at him had long since been drowned in the city moat.
The others at the table couldn't help but smirk maliciously, their eyes turning sinister as they glanced at Jieming.
They knew the kid was in for a world of trouble.
Having grasped their boss's attitude, the others grew bolder in their actions.
At a table near the entrance, a lackey suddenly thrust out his thick leg as Jieming passed by, seemingly by accident, aiming to trip him by the ankle.
A flicker of barely perceptible mockery flashed in Jieming's eyes.
Without pausing, he stepped down firmly on the outstretched leg.
Crack!
The crisp sound of bone breaking echoed clearly through the silent tavern.
The lackey's defiant expression froze instantly, replaced by a mask of excruciating pain and contortion.
He let out a scream even more piercing than the thief's earlier wail, collapsing to the floor like a rotten log. Clutching his leg, now twisted at an unnatural angle, he writhed on the ground, howling in agony.
The entire tavern was now completely stunned.
Dealing with the thief was one thing, but daring to attack one of "Iron Hammer" Karl's men—and breaking his leg?!
This kid was insane!
"Get him! Kill him!"
Karl's face darkened instantly, abandoning all pretense of being a refined gentleman as he roared with primal fury.
The lackeys who usually hung around Karl's table instantly went berserk. Grabbing knives, swords, and bottles, they swarmed toward Jieming like a pack of rabid dogs.
A smirk tugged at Jieming's lips as he surveyed the scene before him, feeling not a shred of tension, but rather a hint of amusement.
Facing seven or eight burly men charging at him, he moved through the cramped space with ghostly agility.
His movements were simple yet lethal, each punch and kick carrying terrifying power and pinpoint accuracy.
Bang!
A side kick slammed into the thigh of the lead attacker. A scream erupted as the man's femur snapped, sending him flying backward like a kite with a severed string. He crashed heavily against the wall before sliding down in a heap.
Crack!
Jieming twisted his body slightly to evade a thrusting dagger, then seized another man's arm and wrenched it violently. The sickening sound of bone breaking echoed through the tavern.
"Aaaah!!"
In less than ten seconds, punctuated by the sickening sounds of snapping bones and agonized cries, all seven or eight of the burly men who had surrounded Jieming lay crippled in the tavern's center, their legs or arms broken, writhing and moaning like discarded trash.
The assault had been so swift that the men hadn't even had time to beg for mercy.
The other adventurers in the tavern were now utterly terrified by the spectacle unfolding before them.
They had been looking forward to a good show, but never imagined the newcomer would be so powerful!
Standing behind his gang of thugs, Karl was the only one fortunate enough to escape with unbroken bones. Watching the scene unfold, he couldn't help but swallow hard.
When Jieming's gaze fell on the iron hammer in Karl's hand, Karl dropped it as if burned, abandoning all pretense of authority as he scrambled out of the tavern on all fours.
The adventurers who had been itching to take advantage of the chaos quickly retreated to their seats, pretending they hadn't seen a thing.
Heads bowed, they stared fixedly at their tankards or casually polished their weapons, terrified of catching Jieming's icy gaze.
They could almost taste the metallic tang of blood and rust in the air—a testament to overwhelming power.
"Another ruthless one..." someone murmured inwardly, face pale.
"Far more ruthless than Iron Hammer Karl..."
Jieming glanced at the groaning figures sprawled on the floor, then swept his gaze over the trembling "audience."
He didn't strike again. Instead, he walked straight to an empty table, casually picked up a wine-stained glass, and poured himself a full cup of malt liquor.
He initially intended to take a sip to fit the mood, but when he saw the glass covered in unidentifiable grime, he abandoned the idea.
With a disdainful "tsk," Jieming set the glass back down and sauntered out of the tavern with the same swaying gait he'd used when entering.
His carefree silhouette suggested that everything that had just transpired was merely a trivial interlude.
Only after Jieming pushed open the door, completely vanishing from sight, did the tavern erupt into renewed clamor.
Everyone tacitly avoided discussing the recently departed Jieming, instead launching into more fervent conversations about other topics, as if this could banish the lingering fear he had instilled.
As for the unfortunate souls with broken bones, no one bothered to help them. Eventually, the tavern staff hired a few adventurers to drag them outside.
Whether they survived until morning was a matter of luck.
From that moment on, the Golden Harbor adventurer's guild gained a new, untouchable figure—"Jack."
(End of the Chapter)
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