Hello, is this a letter addressed to Demon Fortress?

Over the course of three days, a large number of people flocked to Bounty City.

The streets became crowded and noisy.

There were well-traveled bounty hunters, most of them well-equipped and with sharp eyes.

There are adventure groups responsible for escorting ordinary families.

They protected the gaunt figures in wheelchairs in the center of the crowd.

Most of the attendees were family members who accompanied the elderly.

Most of them are very young, some are even teenagers.

When trekking through the wilderness, youth means greater survival ability and less of a burden.

As for the local poor families who were previously scattered outside the city...

At this moment, most of them gathered on both sides of the street, silently watching all of this.

They were from the previous round of selections, and their families were not judged to be dead.

To save on travel expenses, they stayed temporarily in Bounty City.

Three days later, the selection process officially began.

There were no elaborate ceremonies or speeches from a high platform as one might have imagined.

All participants gathered in an open area outside the city.

Blackbeard stood at the very front, surrounded by all the royal dwarves from the tavern.

They checked the physical condition of each elderly person one by one and recorded their names.

Afterwards, family members were allowed to come forward to say their final goodbyes.

Hugs, whispers, silent weeping, or kneeling and begging an elderly person on their deathbed.

Then, the dwarves stepped forward and fed the old man bottles of "Iron Will" potions.

Then, they pushed the wheelchairs and walked in batches toward the gray-white wall of fog not far away.

The selection rules are very simple yet cruel, even brutal.

All elderly participants in the selection process entered the fog-shrouded area of ​​the non-safe node.

Survive for five minutes while surrounded by spirit demons.

Anyone who survives will be qualified to be a guide.

More than one hundred elderly people were divided into ten groups.

Wheelchairs rolled across the wasteland, slowly disappearing into the gray fog.

The dwarves released their grip and quickly withdrew.

Time passes little by little.

The sun was blazing, shining on the empty wasteland.

Beyond the wall of fog, all was silent.

Occasionally, a faint sob or two would come from the deepest part of the place, only to disappear quickly.

Five minutes, ten minutes.

The first group of dwarves stepped back into the fog.

When they came out, they were pushing a wheelchair.

The old man sat slumped in his wheelchair, his face ashen, but his chest was still rising and falling.

Some people cheered softly.

But most people remained focused on the fog wall.

The second group of dwarves entered.

When they came out, the wheelchair was empty.

Instead, there were several deep marks on the back of the chair, as if torn by invisible claws.

The wood shavings were turned over, stained with dark red.

The third batch, the fourth batch...

As time went on, fewer and fewer wheelchairs were successfully returned to their original locations.

More often, there were broken wheelchairs, covered in blood and severed limbs.

The fragments and bloodstains looked particularly cold and glaring in the blinding sunlight.

The waiting family members reacted in various ways.

Some people threw themselves onto the wheelchair, which was covered in blood and severed limbs, and cried loudly.

The old man's bloodstains soaked through his tattered clothes.

Some people also rushed towards the empty wheelchairs, which were covered with the remains of their loved ones.

First he was stunned, then he flew into a rage.

"Why couldn't you hold on?! You old man!"

"Why couldn't you just hold on a little longer?!"

"How much money have I spent to support you?!"

"Dead... It's all over!!"

Some people even kicked the wheelchair out of control, cursing and crying.

Until the dwarves' cold gaze swept over them.

They fell silent as if someone had grabbed their necks, and trembled as they withdrew their feet.

The selection process started with great fanfare, but ended unusually quickly.

In less than half an hour, everything was settled.

Of the more than one hundred elderly people, only six survived and returned to the sunlight.

Blackbeard stepped forward and, as per the rules, reimbursed the travel expenses for all participating families, and gave each person ten gold coins as compensation.

Ten gold coins is a considerable fortune for an ordinary family.

But compared to the "hiring" that is about to begin, it is insignificant.

The six elderly people were led to the open space one by one.

Arrange them according to their current "health status".

The one in the worst physical condition, who looked like he might die at any moment, was placed on the far side.

The one who was in the best spirits and could even sit up straight was placed in the middle.

The atmosphere subtly shifted.

Before the selection, everyone hoped that their elderly relative was "close enough to death".

Now, whether it's their family or the bounty hunters who are eyeing them, they all just want what's best for them.

"To live a little longer."

"At least, they can guide us for two days."

Blackbeard cleared his throat, his voice booming:

"Now, let's begin hiring and quoting."

"First, Old John. Physical condition: poor. Estimated effective guiding time: one day."

"Starting price: 50,000 gold coins."

After a brief silence, bids began to be placed one after another.

"Fifty-five thousand!"

"Sixty thousand!"

"Seventy thousand!"

The old man, named John, hung his head, breathing weakly, and remained unresponsive to the surrounding noise.

His family.

A young brother and sister clenched their hands tightly, their nails digging into their palms.

Ultimately, the price settled at 200,000 gold coins.

It was photographed by the Witcher Cass.

The brother and sister breathed a sigh of relief, but their eyes welled up with tears at the same time.

They walked to their grandfather's side, knelt down, and whispered something.

The old man slowly raised his hand and touched his grandson's head.

The second one, the third one...

Prices have been rising as the elderly person's "health condition" has improved.

It's the sixth person's turn.

The atmosphere suddenly became intense when they spoke of the elderly man who was in the best condition.

He could still sit up straight on his own, and although his eyes were cloudy, they were still focused.

Starting price: 50,000.

"One hundred thousand!"

"150,000!"

"Two hundred thousand!"

"Three hundred thousand!"

Bidding was incessant, and the amount of gold coins was climbing at an astonishing rate.

Four hundred thousand, five hundred thousand, seven hundred thousand...

Ultimately, the price settled at 950,000 gold coins.

He was won over by a sweet-looking girl.

The entire room fell silent for a moment.

Nine hundred and fifty thousand.

For the vast majority of people present, this was an astronomical figure.

The old man's family members.

A small, thin girl and her mother were completely stunned.

They covered their mouths, tears silently rolling down their cheeks.

It wasn't sadness, but utter bewilderment and helplessness.

The elderly man in the wheelchair looked at his granddaughter's stunned expression and forced a smile.

He reached out with trembling hands and took his granddaughter's little hand in his.

His voice was hoarse, yet carried a clear gentleness:

"Lulu... From now on, you'll be able to live in a spacious and clean white house."

"I won't be looked down upon anymore... and I can learn magic..."

"Haven't you always wanted to...fly freely in the sky like the witch in the fairy tale?"

The little girl burst into tears and clung tightly to her grandfather's withered arm.

"I don't want to learn magic! I don't want the White House!"

"I only want you... I only want Grandpa..."

The old man's eyes reddened, but he only gently patted his granddaughter's back.

An elderly man next to him, whose item was sold for 800,000 gold coins, suddenly coughed a few times.

He weakly forced a smile at the little girl who was crying her eyes out:

"Hey, little girl..."

"For old folks like us, being able to live to die a natural death is already a blessing from the Goddess of Light."

He paused, catching his breath:

"Look at the others... those who fed demons, those who died of disease, those who were beaten to death..."

"We're doing this... and we're still able to earn such a large sum for our family before we leave..."

"It's a blessing."

"Even if I die now, I'd be willing."

After he finished speaking, he coughed violently again.

His family rushed forward, carefully patting his back and covering up his disheveled appearance.

They glanced nervously at the hunter who had taken their picture, fearing he might change his mind.