Chapter 876
Little Cat and Vagrant
It wasn’t until nightfall that Durrur finally returned, drunk.
He was a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard, wearing hardened leather armor. Even when going out for drinks, he was fully armed.
A long dagger, two throwing knives, a throwing axe, a hand crossbow, a mighty bow, an automatic pistol, and a long sword, plus bottles and jars hanging from his waist… This was the real worth of the “Survival Expert” profession trait, which had no disadvantages in any terrain.
Born in the Black Eagle clan, he grew up in the deep mountains and naturally became a good hunter. However, he didn’t choose to join a mercenary group and become a notorious war mercenary. Instead, he left his hometown and went to other countries to become a bodyguard for adventurers and archaeologists.
This life was quite comfortable and contended.
Durrur was a man who ate alone and didn’t worry about anyone else.
He was a homeless vagrant who didn’t know when he would die—no parents, no wife, no children, no master, no disciples. Therefore, he had no qualms. He spent all the money he earned from missions on food, drinks, and entertainment, and then on upgrading his equipment.
Not a single cent was left, all of it spent.
When he ran out of money, he would look for a job—after all, failure in a mission meant death, which was better than dying with money still unspent.
And as a Fourth Tier “Survival Expert,” he never had to worry about not finding work or not having money. Over time, he had earned a resounding nickname in the industry: “Vagrant.”
Originally, he had brought “Encyclopedia” and “Little Cat” to eat and drink. Since they didn’t want to get drunk, they went back in the afternoon. Vagrant, however, stayed behind, embracing women, listening to music, and playing cards with the mages. He played for the entire day, losing all his pocket money, and then went home contentedly.
“Old man, I’m back!”
Vagrant yelled drunkenly at the iron gate in front of the villa: “Open the door!”
Of course, he had a key, but he was too lazy to use it.
As soon as he shouted, his ears twitched.
Three, four, five… Seven, eight?
…Why were there so many breathing sounds inside?
Vagrant wiped his face and sobered up instantly. As the adaptation power flowed, the alcohol in his body was detoxified and dissipated in the blink of an eye.
He frowned slightly, his gaze becoming sharp and serious. Subconsciously, he extended his fingers, deftly confirming that his equipment was ready for immediate use.
Then, he took out his key and opened the iron gate, intending to sneak in carefully.
At this moment, someone walked out of the villa.
It was the trap master “Little Cat,” who had gone drinking with him at noon.
In their line of work, people usually gave themselves codenames. The principle was similar but different from the Ascension Ritual… In the Ascension Ritual, the purpose of protecting one’s True Name was mainly to avoid offending others—for example, killing a teammate who entered the ritual with them, or interrupting their advancement in the ritual, and then facing revenge in reality.
There were those who accepted their losses in gambling, but they were few. Ascension Rituals above the Third Tier often caused permanent soul damage, and not everyone could swallow the destruction of their future.
“You ruined my future, so I’ll kill your whole family”—this kind of situation did happen.
The fake names used by mercenaries were mainly to prevent their True Names from being leaked and thus cursed by Demon Scholars or ritual mages.
As long as one had the designated curse medium, knew the opponent’s True Name and some basic information, a curse could be cast.
After all, everyone knew that these mercenaries were rich but had no connections, making it difficult for them to find high-level priests to help remove curses. They would often bear several hard-to-remove curses, and then receive a letter extorting money, and after sending the money to a designated location, the curse would be removed.
If they could escape disaster by paying money, that would be fine. But more often than not, when the other party was short on money again, they would be the first to be thought of as this “good friend,” and then another curse would be placed to demand money.
If they couldn’t reverse-track to locate the Curse Master’s exact position, such extortion could last a lifetime. Some especially unscrupulous employers would “self-deal.” That is, they would hire a group of mercenaries, obtain the opponent’s real information under the guise of an interview, and then collect the opponent’s personal belongings during the mission. After paying the commission, they would then find Curse Masters to extort the opponent, thereby getting the money back, or even more.
“Little Cat” was also a Fourth Tier adapter, so she shared similar interests with “Vagrant.”
She was short, with short, tea-grey hair. She was always hidden inside her black stealth cloak, and only the part below her nose was visible. Judging from her lips and skin, she wasn’t too old, at most in her early thirties. Her wrists and the base of her palms were wrapped with several worn, yellowish cloth strips—those should also be some kind of supernatural item.
Seeing that the traps prepared by the trap master hadn’t been triggered and smelling no gunpowder on her from a distance, Vagrant felt slightly relieved.
“Uncle Vagrant!”
Little Cat sounded anxious: “Why are you only returning now?”
“Don’t worry…”
Realizing that nothing major had happened, Vagrant yawned again and resumed his drunken, lazy demeanor: “I won’t have a hangover tomorrow anyway. Aren’t we leaving tomorrow?
“What, did we have some distinguished guests? Is it some important figure?”
Vagrant asked, half sarcastically and half probing: “Trying to stuff someone into the team? Extra charge?”
He didn’t understand much about archaeology and history, but he was knowledgeable about supernatural matters.
The fact that they were willing to hire six Fourth Tier extraordinary individuals for an archaeological dig suggested that the ruins were not from the recent past.
Moreover, this employer… the other party was not weak. They should be an extraordinary being themselves.
Vagrant had long been prepared to die in the ruins, so he lived for the moment.
Based on his understanding of the mage lords of the Daffodil Duchy, they valued fame and honor above all else. If this ruin was ancient enough, the lord in charge of this matter would have to bring in some people.
With some maneuvering, half of the archaeological discoveries would be claimed by them. A little publicity, and in a few decades… this archaeological team and their employer would become the “so-and-so team” recorded in history, with only the names of the relevant mage lords remaining.
Vagrant had seen this happen before.
But he was happy to see it—after all, whatever archaeological achievements were made had nothing to do with him. If a mage lord wanted to bring in someone, it would at least be a powerful mage like a “successor,” who would help him gain some experience, and would at least be someone trusted by the lord; they would also receive additional money and equipment as “sponsorship.” This would increase safety and also increase profits… Wouldn’t that be great?
As for bringing children along—he understood that even better. By shamelessly dragging them to drink, chat, and play cards, and occasionally offering a few compliments, there wouldn’t be many arrogant youngsters who would become his enemy.
“…Indeed, a very important person.”
Little Cat nodded.
Vagrant followed Little Cat, casually asking: “Did the Archmage bring them?”
The other party didn’t use a codename, as they were important figures and not overly afraid of ordinary curses. Moreover, they were usually in the public eye, so this was nothing new. But because of this, Vagrant couldn’t remember the person’s name.
“Even more important than that.”
As they approached the main entrance, Little Cat lowered her voice again.
She whispered: “You mustn’t be disrespectful to the noble…”
…Heh, I’d like to see which important person is so arrogant.
Vagrant sneered, not taking Little Cat’s words to heart at all.
He was homeless and had nothing to lose, so he had nothing to fear. If pushed too far, he would blow up with them; his life wasn’t valuable anyway. If one were to die, and they both fell into the River of the Dream Realm, it wouldn’t be a loss…
…But there was no need to implicate others.
Thinking this, Vagrant quickened his pace, rushed in front of Little Cat, and pushed open the door to the reception hall.
Under the bright light of the rune lamps, a group of people were gathered.
The golden-haired youth in the center of the crowd turned his head and smiled gently, “This must be Vagrant, right?”
The youth had two peculiar bumps on his head, reminding Vagrant of a young deer growing its antlers.
—The bright and warm radiance allowed Vagrant, a Survival Expert, to immediately identify the other party’s identity.
Survival Experts could use their intuition to keenly judge the opponent’s profession type and assign up to six tags. Vagrant’s custom tags were “skilled in poison,” “skilled in curses,” “skilled in illusions,” “caster,” “healer,” and “can see through invisibility.” When he looked at someone, if they met one of these six conditions, the “most fitting tag” would automatically trigger, and he would roughly judge their strength.
As he looked at the youth’s identity, he clearly perceived his profession.
He was a “Healer.”
And much stronger than himself… meaning he was Fifth Tier. Coupled with the thorny patterns on his body… these luxurious robes…
…Good heavens, could he be a Cardinal? A human Cardinal? No, he didn’t seem human; humans wouldn’t have horns…
Thinking this, Vagrant looked at the white-haired female companion beside the youth.
Her exquisite and beautiful face looked unnaturally perfect, like a doll. But Vagrant knew that it was best to avoid looking at women who looked exceptionally beautiful… If he hadn’t already received a deposit, he would have turned and run the moment he saw her. As long as something was beautiful enough, any contact, for any reason, was dangerous. The source of the danger was just different.
His “danger intuition” had also judged the other party’s profession type…
—Judged as: [Skilled in Illusions].
Energy Level… Fifth Tier.
(This chapter is complete)
