I'm really not a dragon.

"Have you found the address for the Witchlight Carnival?"

"Yes, sir, our employer, the generous Mr. Artorias, has confirmed it—in fact, you should see for yourself. I have always believed that there is a primal urge in humankind to escape the city, which is a cage of civilized order, and return to the original natural world."

The detective is a good detective.

It's a pity he's a bit talkative.

"Here's your commission! Happy to do business with you!"

Suen handed over the money pouch; four hundred gold coins would be enough to keep him quiet for a while.

The detective, sporting a mustache, examined the money pouch. It was heavy, almost unreal. A sudden smile spread across his face as he said frankly, "Old Man Suen, just a heads-up, the percentage you're giving is—a little too high!"

"Is there a problem?"

Suen had no experience in this industry. He was following Steam's rates, and in a capitalist society, a 30% commission is a reasonable, standardized, and scientifically sound percentage. Anything exceeding that percentage is definitely problematic.

"Others might not like what you're doing!" the detective said in a low voice. "They have two choices: either they lower their commission rate like you, or you become like them and increase it."

"The last choice doesn't sound like their choice; it sounds more like my own."

The detective looked at Suen meaningfully. "Believe me, if the final outcome happens, it usually means you've been through a bad period."

Suen lowered her brows, then finally smiled with relief.

Do they really know what they are facing? Deep inside, a voice seemed to whisper arrogantly.

The detective's smile slowly froze. His detective instincts allowed him to vaguely glimpse something beneath the surface of reality, like a sleeping dragon beneath the waves.

"Ah, it seems you were well-prepared. I wonder how far you can go in this city, but I hope you'll eventually stand at the top!"

"Thank you for your kind words!"

Suen took out the activation scroll and wrote down a task.

"Witchlight Carnival Extermination Event!"

"Limited to 321 tickets, first come, first served."

Artorias poured almost everything he had into this mission.

Three hundred gold bars were cast. Each gold bar was roughly equivalent to 100 dragon gold coins in the trading market and was typically used for the trading of large quantities of goods.

A complete set of Dark Prison equipment crafted by Nine Prisons, including full-body armor, a longsword, a shield, and a cloak. This rare set is worth at least 50,000 Dragon Gold Coins.

In total, the quest commissioned by Artorias has reached 8 Dragon Coins.

In this way, after spending quite a bit of money, there was still a sum of money left that could be squandered!

Outside the boisterous crowd,

An ordinary-looking man looked at Su En, wrote something in the psychedelic manuscript in his hand, and turned to leave.

-

In a certain dark corner,

"We must unite and teach that brat a lesson!"

The old man of the Sword and Star Tavern slammed his fist heavily on the table, his face shrouded in shadow, revealing a pair of eyes glaring like a lion's.

"Every human being has something they fear. Their family, friends, lovers—or something higher, ideals, beliefs—if that still can't make this unruly kid obey, then we'll destroy him!"

The extravagant old man at the Sturgeon Tavern stroked a jewel-encrusted dagger in his hand, his sharp teeth reflecting a ghastly white light.

He looked up.

The dim candlelight illuminated a wide, round table covered in knife marks.

"Let's start with his family!" To his left was the captain of the Dwarf Lantern Tavern, the mage Lyra Elra.

"Then who will do it?"

The old man at the Smiling Boar's Tavern frowned.

The group should have turned their gaze to the depths of the shadows, where the old man of the tavern sat quietly, like a statue.

The old man from the sailboat, Sharkfin, raised his rough palm and stroked the scales on his chin. His dim, beast-like eyes sized up the tavern old men. "Why are you all looking at me?"

The smiling boar's father placed his two large, bear-like hands on the round table. "We all know that the Nine-Fingered Assassins never disappoint."

"Well, with the parliamentary elections coming up, I don't like getting my hands dirty at a time like this. But I do know someone who is willing to get their hands dirty."

"Who?"

"Shadowmoon!" Old Man Sharkfin of the sailboat snapped his fingers.

The beautiful Tiflin slowly walked out, lifting her non-existent skirt like a princess. "Let's talk, my esteemed fathers!"

"How do we destroy a person's spirit!"

-

By afternoon, the hottest time of the day, the tavern was practically empty.

There are more diners in the evening.

"Dad, another plate of orange chicken."

"OK!"

Suen knocked on the kitchen door, and a semi-transparent mage's hand carried a plate of fried chicken to the guest's table.

Su En glanced at the door from the corner of her eye.

"Aurelia, you're back?"

The latter nodded, a faint smile appearing on his pale face. His body floated like a ghost upstairs in the tavern.

Suen leaned against the wall, recalling Aurelia's expressions and actions, and felt that something was not quite right.

On the second floor of the tavern, faint sobs could be heard.

Suen gently pushed open the door. "What's wrong, Aurelia?"

Aurelia knelt in the dimly lit room, her shoulders trembling, overwhelmed by immense loss and fear.

"My brother is coming back soon!"

"Your brother?"

"His return means he couldn't find another way." A sigh of despair escaped Aurelia's throat. "He's the strongest among us, and even he's given up. We have no hope."

Aurelia raised her wrist and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry!"

She shouldn't have vented these emotions. Perhaps she had no one left to confide in; loneliness is the last straw that breaks a person's back.

"...Have you considered the Dragon Vein Ritual?"

Suen stared at the weeping Aurelia through his metallic pupils.

"Dragon Vein Ceremony?"

Aurelia looked up abruptly. The man in front of her gestured clumsily and childishly: "One bloodline replaces another—but I haven't tried it on other creatures. If it's due to bloodline, perhaps we can try to remove it from the bloodline itself."

"Will I die?" Aurelia asked, trembling all over.

"I don't know."

Theoretically, after countless generations of bloodline dilution, the demonic blood that has reached Aurelia's generation should be extremely rare.

But there are always exceptions, and there are always unexpected events.

Any bloodline ritual implies a bestowal of charity from a superior group to an inferior one.

Alleria initially believed that Suen was a half-dragon, a species that existed in this world even before the Dragonborn. They were the most perfect evolution of Dragonvein Warlocks, retaining powerful magical abilities while possessing physical strength no less than that of warriors.

"If possible, could I ask Artorias for help?"

Replacing bloodlines is no small matter, especially given that Alleria herself possesses hellish blood.

Aurelia reached out her trembling wrist and grabbed Sun. "Help me! Sun, I need your blood to enter my body!"

"Don't go back on your word!"

Not long after, Artorias was invited to a tavern by a group of rats.

"By Ogmar, you'd better really have something to say!" Artorias winked at Suen with an annoyed look.

According to the mouse, he was having a romantic encounter with the succubus at the time. These former celestial beings, even in their fall, still retained their astonishing beauty.

Artorias was happy to deal with these cunning and dangerous creatures, mainly in order to obtain a Blood Commander's Helmet.

But upon learning of Suen's purpose, Artorias fell into deep thought.

"It's not easy here! You two..."

According to Artorias, Aurelia possessed a bloodline that formed her body and even participated in the formation of a part of her soul.

Attempts to eradicate Purgatory's bloodline could endanger her life.

It is necessary to pre-set an anti-death barrier to prevent death and provide fake life with false vitality.

Even, if necessary, a fourth-circle protective spell would be needed, with Ottiluc's bouncy orb freezing her vital signs, leaving her in a state that cannot be healed or sustained. Until a solution is found.

"What's the probability?" Suen asked.

"It depends on your bloodline. Generally speaking, demons and dragons are among the most powerful creatures. Their bloodlines are dominated by dominant genes, and almost every offspring will exhibit certain ancestral traits."

Aurelia was a little nervous.

It vaguely remembered that her ancestor was the only demon under Mephistopheles' command, no less than a great demon. Its race was unique and it was deeply favored by Hell.

As a descendant of a unique demonic bloodline, her family was both short-lived and glorious.

According to the system, he should have the bloodlines of five different dragons in his body. Well, logically speaking, five against one, the advantage is mine!

"Let's begin, Aurelia!"

Artorias conjured a hand seal, and dark green negative energy crawled up Alleria's body, providing her with the false vitality of an undead creature.

As Artorias cast his spell, he said, "Speaking of which, that half-shapeshifting little girl has been going to the Temple of Mercy lately. Dragon Pass isn't a very safe place."

"I told Brian to go with him, since Brian doesn't have anything to do lately anyway."

Artorias thought for a moment, seemingly not seeing the dwarf Brian behind the little girl. "Perhaps he's too short! The tallest dwarf I've ever seen could ride a horse, a real horse!"

Suen nodded in deep agreement, "He's probably among the shortest of all the dwarves!"

-

In a bright corner,

Brian sneezed. "Who's insulting me!"

He subconsciously reached for the wine flask at his waist.

"Uncle Brian! Can I have a drink?" the little girl asked, looking down and blinking.

"Oh, poor little Orin, your Uncle Brian is thirsty too!"

Brian patted the flask, and a suspicious rattling sound came from inside.

"Hmph, fine, if you won't give it to me, then so be it!" Olin tiptoed into the temple.

The last time Jun Shoutian told him to come to the Temple of Compassion often, Olin remembered it. She could vaguely sense that staying in the temple seemed to bring her boiling blood of slaughter a brief moment of peace.

Watching Orin enter the temple, Brian dusted himself off and prepared to follow.

Just then, he seemed to sense something, and glanced towards the riverbank out of the corner of his eye.

A beautiful woman named Tiflin was smiling at him, lifting her non-existent skirt like a princess and bowing in greeting.

The dwarf Brian was quite proud, with a wonderful feeling that everyone in the world knew him.

So this is how heroes are treated!

"Oh, so this can actually be called a hero of Baldur's Gate?" Shadowmoon smiled and bowed, finding the quest surprisingly easy for the first time. "A level six mage! Heh."