Warriors will die if they charge.

Trish woke up with a sense of impending doom as she lay on a soft, purple velvet bed in the darkness.

That extremely thin silk blanket was her favorite item; its soft, smooth texture always reminded her of the coolness her father had mentioned.

Coolness is a feeling rarely experienced in warm, dark places. Except when she fell into an underground river during training and was pierced by the wizard's ice spike, Trissy had never truly experienced the kind of cold that her father described, the kind that sweeps in from all directions and can freeze your hands and feet numb.

Oh, and besides the cold, there's also the heat—that humid heat that seeps into every pore of your body, almost suffocating your internal organs.

She remembered that when her father talked about these things, the shackles on his hands and feet would clang, and his cheerful laughter would echo in every corner of the dungeon. Meanwhile, her eldest sister, Vinina, would lash the human's back with a three-headed snake whip, threatening him to reveal the truth about his bloodline.

Cui Xisi couldn't remember his name anymore, only that he was a tall and handsome man with fiery passion and a gentle, considerate voice, and that when he was shackled with magic-suppressing shackles, a few snowflakes would occasionally drift from his hand to please his daughter.

He was a warlock, a powerful spellcaster who had accidentally fallen into the Underdark. His family spent a great deal of effort hunting him down and bringing him back to the great city of Abros from some terrible ancient ruin.

This is a terrifying and majestic place, where the spiders of the goddess Lolth roam every corner, the wizarding academy towering like an obsidian spire, the eerie and sinister Temple of Lolth, the pyramid where princes train, and the fortified manors of various families cutting the city apart.

However, Doris, the matriarch of Trisis, did not sacrifice powerful sorcerers to Lolth to win the goddess's favor and gain an advantage for her family in the Council of Abros.

Dries used drugs and seductive words to have sex with a sorcerer with powerful bloodlines.

It was a failed attempt, at least in Trissy's own experience. Apart from possessing the spell-like abilities that every drow is born with, she did not show any of her father's terrifying talent for spellcasting.

In Drow society, being of mixed race is the lowest level of discrimination. Even if she were the eldest princess of Abros or the eldest daughter of the Moraque family, her appearance would pale in comparison. However, in Drow society, survival is more important than looks.

It was a pity that she did not awaken her talent for spellcasting. Her eldest daughter gently advised her to commit suicide and sacrifice herself to the goddess Rose in exchange for forgiveness for her mixed-race identity.

A half-blood is not qualified to serve Rose, let alone go to the Wizarding Tower for further studies.

Fortunately, she has skillful hands and keen eyes.

Lying on the bed, Trissy felt as if she were enveloped by a giant spider web. She wondered if Rose had discovered her? Did she know that the half-drow who prayed to the spider goddess statue every day actually harbored resentment towards her and wished she could shoot an arrow through her throat?

She reached for the bedside table, where an unstrung crossbow and arrows lay. With one hand, she skillfully pulled back the crossbow, inserted the arrows into the slot, and with the other hand, she grasped a serrated dagger under her pillow.

"Every day I wake up to my companions' calls, greeted by the warm morning sun, with a cup of smooth hot tea, and feel the fragrance of flowers and grass as the forest breeze blows."

But when I woke up, I had to grab the crossbow and dagger to make sure I had weapons at hand.

As Tracy thought to herself, the infrared vision, in the dim light, captured a blurry outline outside the bedroom window.

"Tracy, the mistress orders you to raid the Moraque family's stronghold with the Chief of Martial Arts."

"I see."

I survived another night.

Never before had I seen Trish release her crossbow and dagger at night, sit on the bed, pick up the leather armor hanging on the wall, and sometimes sigh as she looked at her full, snow-white breasts.

These two lumps of fat offer no help in combat; in fact, every piece of clothing and protective gear needs to be custom-made.

She changed into close-fitting leather armor, put on leather pants, slipped her feet into tall boots, tied her smooth silver hair that was loose down her back into a high ponytail for easy movement, put on a cloak, picked up a crossbow and a scimitar from the weapon rack, and walked out of the room.

This may be the only thing she can accurately recall every detail after falling into a deep sleep.

That day, she and the Chief of Martial Arts attacked the stronghold of the Chief Family, part of the Matriarch's grand plan to create chaos through betrayal and gain greater power in Abros City.

She did an excellent job; even from a distance of over a hundred meters, she could easily shoot through the martial arts master's eyes with a crossbow bolt.

Trissy has planned an escape route, a tunnel dug by the dwarves into the Underdark, but before that, she must avenge her father, whose name she has forgotten.

He once said that avenging his family and friends was an honorable thing to do.

She didn't understand what honor was, but after the martial arts captain who was shot by an arrow on the front line was hacked to death by the enemy, Trish felt a sense of satisfaction she had never experienced before.

At least in that moment, she understood her father's words: there are some things that the Dark Lands cannot give you.

She fled, only to discover that the tunnel she had found two years earlier had been sealed off, and a group of Rose priests were guarding the vicinity, secretly ambushing any traitors who attempted to escape the Spider Web through the tunnel.

The hunt was relentless, and betrayal was common in the Underdark. Everyone, regardless of who they were, would prepare three knives: one for their enemies, one for their family, and one for their superiors.

The half-dragon, severely wounded from being hunted, plunged into an underground river. While drifting, he entered an ancient ruin and found a stone tablet inscribed with a strange name—Immael.

Rose's spiders swarmed from every crevice in the rock wall, their mouthparts snapping shut, which made Trish place her hopes on what her father had once said.

Some beings on the surface will trade your most precious possessions for what you crave. They are not good people, but Rose is even more beastly than them.

She demanded a promise from Emma: to go to a safe place, wherever it might be, as long as she could escape the dark regions shrouded in Rose's web.

As for what Emery took away, Trish may not have understood for a long time. It was the longing she had seen in her father's eyes before his death—freedom.

……

"Where are you going after that?" Marcus asked. "Although you are a hybrid, most people who see your appearance will categorize you as a drow elf. Surface races generally have a very bad attitude towards you."

"I understand. Every year, the family sends slave-catching teams to the surface. The reputation of the drow is definitely worse than I expected."

Trish took the hot tea that Bardin handed her and looked at the unknown leaves floating on the surface.

She watched as Bardin took a sip, and then saw Marcus finish his hot tea in one gulp. He then picked up the simple kettle from the campfire, filled the tin cup with tea, and took a small sip with both hands.

It was somewhat bitter and slightly sour; she didn't like it.

Trish put down her hot tea, sat cross-legged on the floor, exuding a cool yet gentle aura.

"If possible, I'd like to stay with you for a while to get used to the surface environment. If you think a drow would get into trouble, I can leave."

Marcus was taken aback, not expecting Trish to react so calmly. He had initially thought this woman was a ruthless killer.

"Welcome to the Rye Wine Company for the time being, Miss Trissy."

Bardin pursed his lips but did not object to the captain's decision. He would keep an eye on the drow to make sure the enthusiastic big guy wouldn't get into trouble.

As the three left the troll cave and embarked on their journey back to the surface, Marcus realized that his earlier judgment had been seriously flawed.

With her nimble hands, Trish picked up the curved war club, a specialty of Linhe Town, in an elegant and precise manner, and smashed the goblin's head several times, without even a drop of blood staining her simple long dress.

She turned around, looked at Marcus who was standing there dumbfounded, tilting her head slightly, her alluring red eyes flashing:

"What's wrong? I've dealt with quite a few goblins in the Underdark."

"Aren't you an archer...?"

"Archers certainly know close-combat skills, and I'm actually quite good at using a scimitar."