This is a very common type of inn/brothel in Brakada, with a large hall filled with mercenaries, merchants and prostitutes. The half-drunk prostitutes' chatter, haggling and laughter blend together to create a unique atmosphere in this town.

  With a loud crash, the door of the tavern was kicked open. A young man walked in, his dirty robe covering half of his face, and the lower half of his face exposed to the outside was also full of wind and dust marks. This was a common dress in this city, but it attracted the attention of the whole tavern, especially the eyes of the mercenaries, which were filled with hostility. The alcohol in their blood catalyzed the violent atmosphere bred by their way of life, making them very sensitive to such an arrogant attitude.

  "Ding", a sound that wasn't very loud, made all kinds of atmosphere and commotion in the tavern come to a standstill.

  The thing that made the sound was a small, round object with a yellowish glow flashing on it, which was rolling through the air and falling into the palm of this intruder. Everyone could see at a glance that the light on it was not the dull reddish-yellow of copper, nor did any other metal have such an attractive color, almost everyone had seen this color in their dreams.

  "I'm hiring someone." The intruder sat down at a table, his impatient tone making him seem even more arrogant, but no one thought he was bluffing anymore. The thing between his fingers was basically a free pass for any place and any behavior. "You choose the toughest among you, if he can get past my hand, I'll hire him. One day, one gold coin."

  It was just one day, and it was a hundred times the monthly salary. In the tavern, about half of the people stood up on the spot, with their hands holding their own eating utensils, looking at each other with murderous intent. After evaluating each other, some people sat down slowly with a sullen face.

  "Weapons down, I don't want to give the local officials any more trouble. We can settle this with bare hands." The intruder took a cup of wine and started drinking, without even looking at the group.

  The merchants and prostitutes, along with everyone else who was still seated, hastily scrambled upstairs to escape. The bartender and the boss watched with wide eyes, wanting to go up and stop them but lacking the courage to do so.

  The remaining job seekers began to kick away the tables and chairs, clearing a space. It was unclear who started it first, but immediately a chaotic melee broke out.

  The dull thud of flesh hitting flesh, occasionally punctuated by the cracking of bones and blood-curdling screams, with intermittent cheers and shouts of excitement. Dozens of fists, feet, fingers, elbows, knees, heads, and teeth were flying everywhere, all usable organs fully utilized to leave their mark on each other's bodies. This was absolutely a spectacular scene rarely seen. However, the creator of this scene seemed uninterested, still sitting at the table by the door, sipping from a cup, occasionally looking up, then immediately furrowing his brow, seemingly very dissatisfied.

  This was the thirteenth house, each repeating the same words. From the fourth house on he had to drink a beer, now he himself was getting a bit drunk. He began to wonder if doing this would cause the mercenary industry of Brakada to collapse. Just as he was worried, he suddenly discovered something interesting.

  The sound of physical collision gradually decreased, and finally, like the previous twelve times, a champion with a bruised nose and face stood crookedly among the bodies of his fellow competitors.

  "I'm the strongest!" The champion wiped his constantly bleeding nose and let out a triumphant roar.

  "Why are you so strong?" The coin was still flipping between his fingers, and the person flipping the coin seemed a bit tipsy.

  "Because I'm the only one left standing, all my opponents have fallen, so of course I'm the strongest." The champion was proud and still flowing.

  Nosebleed is his glorious witness.

  "Really?" The questioning tone was drawn out very long.

  "Ah!" The champion's last word had not yet been fully uttered when he heard the "crack" of his jawbone shattering, followed by five teeth being knocked out of his mouth, three of which went down his throat. Only then did the pain hit him and knock him unconscious.

  "Looks like you're the strongest?" The drunken presenter asked. He had been watching this last winner from the start, watching him get knocked down to the ground with just one punch at the very beginning. The position he fell in was quite clever, right in a spot where people wouldn't easily step on him, and his falling posture was even better, allowing him to jump up from the ground in the shortest time possible and unleash the most powerful blow.

  "It was originally me who was the strongest, if I wasn't too hungry and my body wasn't so weak, I wouldn't have had to use such a despicable method." The final victor's voice was weak, and his body seemed like it could barely stand upright, this blow having almost used up all of his physical strength. He was a very thin, wolf-like person, with messy hair covering half of his face, wearing tattered clothes that revealed the good physique he still had despite being somewhat frail.

  "Is it now or never that I knock you down and get this job?" The final victor is about to make a dash for the goal.

  "Why don't you use this method? At least it seems like you're the strongest with this." The drunk man laughed, looking at him.

  The victor didn't say a word, but took step after step towards him. With each step, he accumulated his own strength and fighting spirit.

  He drew near. The victor knew that if he wanted to be a true victor, all his hopes were on this one blow, and he had no remaining strength or opportunity left. The drunk in front of him was still smiling at him with a drunken smile.

  He swung his left shoulder forward, took a step forward with his left foot, and threw out the fist that had been condensed in his right hand for a long time. With a loud crash, the fine wine table was smashed to pieces by this punch, and wooden splinters flew everywhere.

  But the fist that had been so powerful was caught, just as he had exhausted his strength from smashing the table. This was a well-timed move, and with one more twist of his wrist, this man would never be able to throw another punch like that again in his life.

  He knew he had lost. Even when he was in top physical condition, he probably wouldn't have been a match for him. He had been wandering around this strange city for days, hungry and exhausted, and had put all his remaining hope into this opportunity. A desperate sadness welled up in him, making his limbs weak and almost causing him to collapse.

  But he immediately felt the small yellow thing stuffed into his fist. "You passed. Now I want you to eat well, take a bath, and then rest comfortably for a night to replenish your energy." These words, like heavenly music, made him overjoyed. He turned his head to look at the person who spoke.

  Two people at such a close distance finally saw each other's appearance clearly and exclaimed in surprise: "Is that you?"

  In the evening, in a room of the best inn in Brakada, Asa lay on the bed and carefully recalled everything he had seen in the cave of the big-eared monster.

  The terrain, the number of Big Ears, his vigilance and attitude, and the cave where Chris is being held. And indeed, as Lord Borukan said, they seem to be doing this for the first time, and their experience and vigilance are far from sufficient. It should be a good opportunity.

  Just now, when he was still in a state of distress and frustration, he was suddenly reminded by Lord Borukan's words "his own method". Indeed, it should have been like this from the start. Asa immediately decided to use his usual and skilled approach to solve this headache-inducing problem directly and straightforwardly, eliminating it once and for all.

  Of course, this is not an easy task, and helpers are necessary, but there can't be too many. So he started going to the taverns in the city to find suitable candidates, and unexpectedly, after almost searching all the taverns, he found one who was an old acquaintance.

  Rodhart walked in, although thinner than a month ago, the perfect lines of his muscles and bones still showed his good physique. He had just eaten one of the best meals available at Brakada, then went to the hotel's special bathhouse for a bath, which made him feel refreshed. His hair and face were clean, and he looked as handsome and upright as before.

  "Get a good sleep, I'll call you when it's time to leave tomorrow." Asa jumped up from the bed and pointed at the clothes and sword that had been bought earlier. "Those are for you."

  Rodhart remained silent, he hadn't spoken a word since the two of them recognized each other earlier. However, his eyes kept darting around, as if he didn't know what to say.

  "Thank you." Rodhart suddenly bowed to Asa. "Whether it's today or that thing before, I really appreciate it very much."

  Suddenly seeing him come like this, Asa hurriedly waved his hand and said: "No need... those villagers are all right too?"

  "They're all right, I got a lot of money out of Aerys and then ran with them. They've resettled now. It's just that nobody can go back." His expression didn't change much when he mentioned this matter. It seemed that he had already walked out of the great sorrow and self-blame. This was not an easy thing to do.

  Asa noticed a wound on the corner of his mouth, which must have been caused by his own kick to his face. The innocence and vitality that once filled his face had been washed away by pain and cruelty, making him look no longer childish at all, replaced by strength and determination. This aura combined with his originally handsome face formed a unique good-looking feature that only belonged to men.

  "No," Asa shook his head. "You can go back now. No one knows what you used to do anymore. They're all dead."

  Rodhart shook his head dejectedly: "They may be able to, but I won't, I've lost face and can't bear to see them again. They don't want to see me either. So I came here alone to try to make a living, who knew...". He forced a self-mocking smile. "It's not easy to eat either."

  "It's really not easy." Asa felt a bit sentimental, thinking back to when he was starving and waiting for food in Aili's tavern just over a month ago, while now their positions had completely reversed.

  Rothhart smiled wryly and said, "But now there are many people who want to catch me for dinner. I heard that the imperial envoy from Aili and all the local officials haven't returned, could it be you..."

  A Sa said: "It wasn't me who killed them, but they're all dead anyway." The things that happened in between were too strange and weird for him to say.

  "Now the bill has been settled on my head. I took the imperial seal back to swindle money, and it became the only clue in this case, and I was wanted nationwide. Fortunately, at that time, I had blood all over my face, and no one saw my appearance clearly." Rodhart looked at Asa very sincerely. "I really thank you, thank you."

  But Ah Sa was somewhat afraid of the emotions that others invested in her, and she waved her hand impatiently, saying: "No need to thank me, no need to thank me, tomorrow I'll still need your help."

  "Good." Rodhart replied strongly.