Warriors will die if they charge.

The darkness made the forest's outline appear like flames winding and rising, and amidst the fine, drifting fluff, the icy blue, cold full moon climbed towards the sky. The rustling sound of the wind through the treetops was the only sound that could be heard in the camp.

Trish tied her wind-blown long hair back, the high ponytail shimmering faintly in the moonlight, flowing smoothly like silver sand. Jenny muttered softly, "Her hair is so beautiful."

"What did you say?" Triss pulled the trigger, loaded an arrow into the chute, and glanced at Jenny standing behind her.

"Stand in front, or I might draw my sword."

"Oh, oh." Jenny carefully walked up to Trish and crouched down to observe the situation in the camp.

The two of them were at the observation post outside the camp. Drow was carefully observing every corner, while the mage apprentice, who had nothing to do, was secretly observing Drow as he took off his hood.

Generally speaking, drow have a highly distinctive and aggressive appearance. Like surface elves, they have beautiful appearances; the males are as handsome as venomous snakes, while the females are as beautiful as black widow spiders.

But the mixed-race Trish gave Jenny a cold and aloof feeling.

With an impeccable oval face and delicate features, skin as smooth as silk, and an aloof and unapproachable demeanor, she is completely different from those seductive fairies who rely on their beauty to lure people.

Trish turned her head, her cold, blood-red eyes even more striking in the darkness. She whispered, "You've been secretly observing me. Why?"

"Because you are so beautiful, I can't help but look at you a few more times."

"Beauty can sometimes be a troublesome burden, making you stand out in a crowd."

"But it's the increased attention that makes it unique."

Trissy fell silent. She thought of what Marcus had revealed when he was being sarcastic: among Emma's countless artifacts and treasures, he had chosen the most unremarkable half-drow.

I owe him a favor...

"By the way, how did you meet that big oaf Marcus?" Jenny asked curiously.

"It's about to start." Trish changed the subject casually. As for Marcus... she didn't want to say more. Anyway, let's just make do for now.

"You bunch of cowards hiding in your rooms..."

The sight of the straightforward warrior standing mocking them in front of the union's gate made Trish's eyebrows twitch.

She tried countless times to get Marcus to use his brain and think things through, not to get carried away while playing cards, and to calculate the remaining cards, but he was just too naive to stop throwing cards.

As people took up arms and charged, Marcus turned and ran with Bardin into the pre-planned escape route (planned by Trish). Drow noticed the bard, who was a step behind the others.

Jenny also noticed something was off. Compared to the other adventurers who were in a frenzy and wanted to chop Marcus into mincemeat, Peggy was too calm. Only after Azaquie patted her on the back did she draw her short sword and prepare to charge.

"That bard..."

Just as she was about to remind Trissy, she saw Drow pull the trigger. The crossbow bolt, carrying a strong airflow, whizzed through the air and became a black shadow, piercing Peggy's smooth temple and splattering a beautiful flower of blood.

"The first one."

With a calm tone, Trish looked at Peggy, who had been shot in the temple and whose cheeks were covered in fine, dark green scales. Realizing that something was wrong, Azaqui immediately pointed his longsword at his former "comrade-in-arms" and began to fight on the spot.

"Monster! Damn it, it's a snake-man! No wonder it hid so well!"

The crowd was in a frenzy, and the adventurers who rushed towards Marcus found very few of them aware of Peggy's condition.

Seeing the foreign warriors being chased and the dark figures holding crossbows outside the camp slope, they knew this might be a trap set for monsters, so they turned their guns on the snake people and joined in the fight.

Trissy pulled the crossbow bolt, loaded a second arrow, and Marcus led the crowd out of the Adventurers' Guild's back door, still taunting them:

"Come on, you bunch of idiots without any skin, even when I'm soft, I'm harder than you! Did you hear that sound just now? That was your wives moaning! Hahaha."

"Nobody's tougher than a dwarf! Nobody! Ha ha!"

"..." Trissy looked at Marcus and Bardin, who were laughing heartily, and her lips twitched again.

That guy Emma!

She noticed that one of the soldiers' expressions and movements during the charge was off; it was exactly the same as when Marcus charged—hesitant and lacking any of the decisiveness of a warrior. She fired.

The third shot came when the soldier's body temperature was off. He cursed along with the crowd but had no strength left to fire.

The fourth shot: the soldier tripped over a stone while charging, and fired.

The fifth shot: The soldier fell into a puddle at the camp entrance; fire.

On the sixth shot, the warrior tried to trip the dwarf but couldn't find his head, so he fired.

By the seventh shot, few people were still following Marcus; most of their anger had shifted to the snake-man who had revealed his true form.

Marcus turned around, looked at the five adventurers who had lost their minds from being mocked, and pointed to the puddle behind them.

There, an inhuman torture was taking place, with longswords, battle axes, staffs, bricks, and dwarf feet mercilessly afflicting every part of the snake-man.

Bardin's iron boots pounded the ground with all his might, each kick resembling a drumbeat as they struck the snake-man's soft belly: "A snake-man dares to insult a dwarf! In the name of the grudge lore, I will settle this score! You just said 'short,' didn't you!"

The clanging of swords clashing echoed throughout the camp, along with the flashes of magic and the sounds of explosions. The weakest snake-man had already been dealt with by Bardin and his team, but battles were still raging elsewhere.

Marcus looked at the adventurers whose expressions were gradually becoming blank, raised an eyebrow and said, "Friend, if you don't hurry, you'll miss your chance for revenge."

The group exchanged bewildered glances, realizing the true purpose behind this baseless insult and provocation.

Their bloodthirsty eyes fell on the snake-man, who was now only skin and bones, and they charged at the monster:

"Die, you beast, kneel down and lick my ass!"

"I'm harder than your whole family!"

As it turns out, those who dared to venture into the Riverside Forest were all quite strong. When a month's worth of pent-up anger was ignited by the Great Gift from the Tongue, the snake-man with his strange methods could hardly resist the furious crowd.

They were physically reduced to a pulp, their slippery skin clinging to the damp ground, mixed with bone fragments and fine sand, becoming a speed bump left behind by the adventurers' charge.

Only a few who fought too hard slipped and fell, nearly having their temples pierced by crossbow bolts, much to Trish's bewilderment.

Marcus didn't participate in the beating of the snake people. Instead, he and his chief of staff, Bardin, patrolled the various beating spots in the camp, patting the adventurers on the back from time to time to encourage them, saying they did a good job and their arms were quite strong.

The crowd, enraged by him, saw Marcus's smug little face and knew that without him, the Snake Man would not have been exposed. They could only suppress their anger and try to punch him in the face, instead using even more force to beat the Snake Man.

Marcus and Bardin clinked glasses, drinking in front of the guild hall, watching the adventurers mingling with the snake people, and sighed:

"This feels so good! Who says soldiers aren't smart? Who has a genius brain like mine? Nobody does."

Bardin rolled his eyes, feeling that the tough guy was getting more and more narcissistic. He took a sip of light beer and glanced at the dark figure outside the camp: "What are you planning to do about the golden scales?"

"Rest for one night, we'll set off tomorrow. We're here to make money and find treasure. Staying with a bunch of brainless idiots makes me feel terrible."

Bardeen shrugged and raised his arm to clink glasses with Marcus again.

The dwarves felt that finding the golden scales was probably no easier than Emmael's Dark Trial.

Marcus raised his bottle high, gazing at the solitary, icy blue-white moon silhouetted against the twisted shadows of the forest, and laughed in celebration of this perfect victory:

"Let the rye wine cause a rake, ha ha!"

He downed the beer in one gulp, then suddenly remembered something, his cheeks puffed out, and his face turned bright red.

He hastily swallowed the sour beer in his mouth and rushed towards the last surviving snake-man: "Wait, wait a bit before you die! I haven't gotten the intelligence yet!"

Bardin, standing in front of the union, and Trish, standing outside the camp, both covered their foreheads in speechless disbelief, marveling that this guy would indeed have a mental lapse at some point, only now remembering to gather intelligence.