Dragon Flame Tavern

The Midnight Marsh had a harsh environment where ordinary creatures simply could not survive. This was the domain of magical plants and magical beasts. It could be said that here, every blade of grass and tree you encountered, even an insect that casually flew past your eyes, might have significant origins.

The mercenaries silently passed through grasslands and shrubs. The Midnight Marsh was actually a general term - its scope was extremely vast, with depths that no one had ever set foot in, and the terrain was not limited to just marshes.

Old John walked at the front. His cloudy eyes were now bright and alert like a hawk's, sharply scanning every inch of the surrounding land. It was already approaching evening, and if they still couldn't find anything valuable, they would return empty-handed today.

Simon and Sage walked at the rear, one on each side, responsible for watching their backs and the distance. Just as Simon was getting dizzy from the monotonous scenery before him, he suddenly heard Old John say in a low voice: "Found it! Get the shovels!"

The others immediately came forward. Old John used a branch to mark out an area, signaling for Simon and the others to start digging. Throughout the process, he spoke very little, keeping his commands as brief as possible to avoid attracting dangerous magical beasts. Before them was just an ordinary grassland - Simon couldn't see any "prey" at all, but trusting Old John, he had already taken out his shovel from his backpack and started digging.

The mercenaries worked quickly. Before long, a large pit appeared before everyone, deep enough to hold seven or eight people and half a person's height. While the others were digging, Old John reinforced a section of grass with fishing net, sized just right to cover the large pit.

With everything ready, Old John carefully crouched beside an unremarkable little grass plant. He took out a wide-mouth bottle containing transparent liquid and poured it on the grass roots. Within seconds, the tightly closed bud on top of the grass suddenly opened like blooming sunlight, with golden radiance on its petals, swaying softly in the dark marsh.

Old John placed the bottle over the flower and deftly cut it with small silver scissors. Instead of falling, the flower floated upward right into the glass bottle. He quickly covered it with the lid and jumped into the nearby pit without pause.

The mercenaries, who had already hidden in the pit, instantly spread the grass covering, and everything before their eyes became pitch black.

No one spoke. In the deathly silence, rustling sounds gradually grew closer, like sandpaper grinding metal or wings rubbing against each other.

The mercenaries held their breath, not daring to make a sound. Blooming Starlight Flowers would attract swarms of Serrated Locusts - these little creatures could instantly turn a person into white bones. The best strategy was to dig a pit and hide in it. The mercenaries heard the locusts beginning to gnaw at the grass covering above them. Although they knew the fishing net and grass roots were sufficient to hold the soil in the covering together, and the locusts would only eat a tiny bit of grass leaves on top, they still couldn't help their racing hearts.

The mercenaries crouched in the pit until their legs went numb before the sounds overhead gradually disappeared. Sage shifted with difficulty - his foot stepped into a hole and he nearly twisted his ankle. He complained quietly: "Simon, how did you dig this pit? There's a big hole under my foot!"

Simon immediately retorted: "Impossible! The pit I dug is so level you could build Helen's Palace directly on it."

Old John frowned and lifted a corner of the grass covering. Light filtered in as he looked at the shoe Sage pulled out of the hole: "...Fresh slime. Not good, run!"

The mercenary squad scrambled out of the pit, not forgetting to throw the camouflaging grass covering back into the hole.

Fortunately, the locust swarm had just visited, leaving this area looking like it had been plowed - all the shrubs and vines that would have hindered their escape were gone, reducing obstacles on their escape route considerably.

A roar from far to near came from behind them. During their escape, Sage couldn't help looking back. A Diagonal-scaled Python with grass covering on top was charging at them, kicking up a cloud of dust.

At times like this, Angus always ran at the front, so despite his perpetually world-weary expression and incomprehensible crazy talk, Simon and the others absolutely didn't believe he had a death wish.

The more life-threatening the critical moment, the less Sage could control his loose tongue. "Look, doesn't it look like a bride wearing a veil chasing her runaway groom?"

Old John sneered coldly: "If you're willing to sacrifice yourself, we'd be happy to hold a wedding ceremony for you two."

The group ran desperately and finally lost sight of the Diagonal-scaled Python behind them. But this didn't mean they could relax their guard - the python might suddenly appear, or perhaps it had left because this area was another high-level magical beast's territory.

Several people gasped heavily, shivering from time to time. Simon's head was steaming with heat - the recent running had made his whole body hot. He looked at the others strangely: "Are you cold? I'm covered in sweat."

Wally, the only dwarf in the mercenary group, wrapped his clothes tighter around himself: "Covered in cold sweat. Now I'm wet and sticky. We need to find a sheltered place or I'll definitely get sick." The temperature in Midnight Marsh wasn't friendly at all, especially now near nightfall when the chill and dampness penetrated everywhere.

Melancholy Angus spoke in his ethereal tone: "Taking away your health is the devil's first step in destroying your will." Only Old John glanced at the energetic Simon and quietly asked: "Did you advance in level?" Simon repeatedly denied it: "Impossible! I'm still a third-tier warrior!"

Old John also thought it unlikely. He had reached the fourth tier nearly ten years ago and still felt a faint chill on his body. Even if Simon had advanced, his condition wouldn't be better than his own. So what could be the reason?

Simon was equally puzzled, but the warmth spreading from his abdomen to his limbs reminded him of a familiar feeling - eating boiled fish! That sensation that made you sweat from the head, numbed your mouth, and warmed your entire body!

This was too incredible. After much hesitation, Simon still didn't voice this absurd reason. It was just a plate of fish slices - how could it have such magical effects?

If he could see his own character attributes, he would have discovered a buff reading: [Cold Resistance +30%, Countdown 22:37:13]

Having escaped from the python's pursuit, the mercenary group didn't rest for long before continuing their journey. They had to reach the mercenary camp in Midnight Marsh before it got completely dark - that was where all mercenaries rested at night.

The Clear Moon season had just begun, so the camp only had four or five scattered small teams. But in less than a month, this place would be packed at night, with conflicts often breaking out over sleeping spots.

Tonight it was Simon's turn to cook. He took out the smoked meat strips and hard bread from his pack, working to break them into smaller pieces. Though it was called cooking, it really just meant putting the salty smoked meat in hot water to boil, then dipping bread in the meat broth to eat. This was already relatively good food in Midnight Marsh - more often, they could only eat the smoked meat strips dry. It was too humid here, making fires quite difficult, and boiling meat broth easily attracted wild beasts. Only in the camp did Simon and the others occasionally dare to have a hot meal. This was one of the reasons mercenaries had unanimously agreed to establish the temporary camp years ago - safety in numbers, and wild beasts had to think twice before attacking.

Simon threw the meat chunks into the nearly boiling water, stirred casually, and quickly covered the pot before he could even smell the meat's aroma. Dwarf Wally stared intently at the pot while complaining: "Hannah's bread is getting harder and harder. Eating it is like swallowing a hedgehog alive - my throat's going to develop calluses."

Old John told a joke: "There was once a mercenary nicknamed 'Screaming Dylan.' After he came to Midnight Marsh on a mission, we started calling him 'The Lip Reader.'"

Despite Hannah's bakery's daily profits, actually none of the townspeople in Mist Town bought bread there. Many families had their own bread ovens that produced sweet and soft bread.

But Hannah's bread had irreplaceable advantages: it was hard to spoil and had no aroma. Mercenaries sometimes had to stay in the marsh for over ten days, and only hard bread and smoked meat could be preserved that long in the humid environment. Scent was also a major factor in their food choices - carrying fragrant food in your backpack was like telling all the predators in Midnight Marsh "I'm here."

The soup pot came to a boil, and Sage began distributing bowls to everyone. Their tools and food already filled their backpacks completely, so the wooden bowls each person now held were actually from a plant called Bowl Flowers. By removing the center stamen, the sturdy petals naturally formed a watertight bowl shape.

This method only worked for mercenaries - if you didn't have their eating speed, the liquid would quickly leak through the softened petals onto your body.

Simon efficiently ladled a large bowl of hot soup for each person, then threw a handful of broken bread pieces into the soup. The cold, hard bread softened as it soaked, and the soup temperature became more manageable. The mercenaries slurped their soup, the scalding liquid carrying warmth throughout their bodies, and their brows, wrinkled from cold, finally relaxed.

Simon held his bowl and swallowed a mouthful of soup. The broth only had a salty taste, the smoked meat was a bit tough, and the bread wasn't as hard now but didn't taste particularly good soaked in water either. His mind wandered to the boiled fish he'd eaten at Dragon Flame Tavern last night. The tender fish slices slid down his throat without much chewing, with rich, layered flavors, and even the vegetables soaked in the broth had their own distinctive taste.

Melancholy Angus reminded him ethereally from the side: "There are many meaningless things in life, like eating and sleeping. But we have no choice - how truly sad."

Seeing Simon still daydreaming, he had to put it more bluntly: "Your bowl is about to fall apart."

Simon hurriedly looked down and drained the meat broth in his bowl in one gulp.

He'd have the boiled fish again when he got back - that was decided.