Chapter 5

When the waiter returned, everyone could see the palm prints and bloodstains on his face and at the corners of his mouth; however, no one dared to say anything. They all kept their heads down, eating their meals hurriedly, and those who were nearly finished left without hesitation.

As merchants, how could they dare to criticize a noble lord?

When the waiter came out again, the injury at the corner of his mouth had been treated. Of course, don't expect any potions or bandages—a restaurant waiter couldn't afford such things. He had simply washed it with water, making it look less disheveled.

"Sir, your roasted meat and ale!"

The waiter walked up to Dean with a tray—more than half a hind leg of meat, neatly stacked on the plate, and the ale was full, almost spilling over. Clearly, Dean's one copper coin was worth more than its value.

Of course, the effect of that one copper coin was still continuing—

"Are you okay? And... do you have any good suggestions for accommodation here? Something clean and safe!"

Pretending to be a stranger, Dean expressed his concern. Then, raising his wine glass, Dean slowed his speech, speaking with a Southern Three Provinces accent, seemingly casually asking, just like those merchants who traveled from the South to the North for the first time and arrived at Horn Town.

"Of course, I'm fine—Horn Town has only one restaurant, but there are three inns. However, only one will be left tonight!" As he spoke, the waiter shrugged indifferently—obviously, he was already used to what was happening, so he didn't want to dwell on the topic and directly answered Dean's subsequent question.

"Although there are many people, three inns should still be more than enough, right?"

Dean feigned surprise and looked around at the tables, which didn't seem very crowded.

"Of course, if it weren't for the big shot upstairs who booked an entire inn!"

The waiter replied, clearly trying to hide his hatred, but Dean heard it clearly. Under such hatred, the waiter began to answer in a torrent of words, as if venting: "He's a real big shot, with two guards, from Emerald City—welcoming a guest from afar..."

At this point, the waiter's expression became strange.

"What's wrong?"

Dean asked at the right moment.

"The big shot's guest is really out of line, almost like a bandit or a thug!" The waiter lowered his voice, pointing secretly to the private room on the far right upstairs, with a look of disgust, "Just like the big shot... Fortunately, Captain Mark is a truly dedicated person!"

Although the words were vague, Dean knew what the waiter was trying to say, so he showed a similarly disgusted expression.

"We should be grateful for our luck!"

Then, having obtained enough information and fully confirmed, Dean raised his glass, with the attitude of a merchant, and gestured to the waiter.

"Right, what does it have to do with me? We just need to celebrate our own luck!"

Nodding, the waiter continued his work—after all, the injury at the corner of his mouth wasn't a broken hand or foot. To get his pay for the day, he needed to keep working.

While Dean seemed to be eating voraciously, he had actually obtained the most important information, and his eyes flashed with a cold light, though it was fleeting.

The next moment, Dean shouted, "Another two cups of ale!"

"Sure, sir!"

The waiter replied respectfully—thanks to the extra copper coin.

...

And for the sake of two copper coins, the waiter helped the seemingly drunk Dean, who was slumped at the table, to the only inn that was still accepting guests.

"More ale, more ale, another cup!"

On the way, Dean mumbled such words, until the waiter threw him onto the bed, and loud snoring replaced his muttering.

"I hate drunks, they vomit all over the bed and floor, and the smell is just..."

The innkeeper vented his dissatisfaction continuously.

"Don't worry, this gentleman may not be a big shot, but he's a generous and nice person!"

The waiter tossed the two copper coins in his hand, stopping the innkeeper's complaints. However, the innkeeper muttered again, "Horn Town has only one restaurant, so you always meet these generous people, which is really unfair!"

"It's very fair, because we take risks!" The waiter pointed to his bruised mouth, then to the drunk Dean, "Fortunately, there are people like this gentleman—just provide good service, and these merchants who have just completed transactions and arrived in this place are not stingy! In Horn Town, are such merchants rare?"

After saying this, the waiter smiled, bowed slightly, and turned to leave.

The innkeeper was silent—because the waiter was right. In Horn Town, merchants from the South who had just sold goods in Emerald City and were heading to the North were very common, even outnumbering the locals. Therefore, earning money wasn't difficult, and one could even live quite comfortably.

Maybe I should open a restaurant too?

But then he remembered the waiter's bruised mouth and the incident that had just spread throughout Horn Town, involving the restaurant owner. The innkeeper shook his head, closed the door, and blocked out the loud snoring.

Click!

Just as the door was fully closed and the footsteps outside faded away, Dean's eyes opened.

...

As the night deepened, in another inn in Horn Town, Ruman Bolan from Emerald City was raging—

"Damn it, does he think I'm an idiot, a fool? He dares to ask for a thousand gold ponts for something that can't be seen in the light! Is he insulting me? Is he insulting the Bolan family?"

The noble lord, who had been so imposing in the restaurant, was cursing and shaking his fat body, pacing around the room twice. When he stopped again, the important person from Emerald City had made a decision and called one of his two guards over.

"Return to Emerald City, go to the Central Knights and find the deputy commander, Bokatz Bolan—he's my nephew!" Ruman instructed, "Just say my name, and have him bring some people here. Understand? Remember, they must be true experts!"

"Yes, sir!"

The loyal guard answered respectfully and left the room.

As the guard left, Ruman's anger did not subside but intensified, making him pace around the room like an angry bull. Then, he bit the cork off a bottle of rum and drank it down.

Ruman needed something to quench his anger, or he would surely be driven mad by it—of course, cheap alcohol wasn't the first choice; young women were the best, but this was Horn Town, not Emerald City. He didn't want to cause trouble for the family here.

After all, Duke York was not someone to be trifled with. His century-old noble status was undoubtedly more prestigious than the Bolan family.

However, as anger and alcohol mixed, some beautiful images began to float in his mind, especially the slightly attractive restaurant owner, which made the titled Ruman Bolan breathe heavily. He had to drink a mouthful of cold alcohol to quench this heat, but unfortunately, it was like adding fuel to the fire, completely igniting the heat in his heart.

"Dok, Dok!"

The lord shouted hoarsely, but there was no response.

"You damn fool, where are you? Get out here!"

The delusions in his mind made the lord not immediately realize something was wrong, but instead, he cursed the guard's negligence.

It wasn't until Dean, fully cloaked, appeared before him and placed a sword at his neck that the lord finally came to his senses.

"What are you doing? Do you know who you're facing? I am..."

Slap!

The flat of the sword cut off the noble lord's words, and the two marks on his face made him choke like a rooster whose neck was being squeezed by an invisible hand, just like the restaurant owner before—why the flat of the sword left two marks? It was because the noble lord's cheeks were so fat that the edges of the sword sank into them.

However, this had some benefits.

Before Dean could speak, the important person from Emerald City obediently shut his mouth—noble lords, the more prestigious they were, the more they trembled when faced with their own blood. Although not absolute, it was more than eighty percent, and clearly, Ruman Bolan was not among the remaining twenty percent of tough guys, even though he was in charge of the Bolan family's underground business.

"Lord Ruman Bolan?"

Dean lowered his voice, making it sound dark and ominous.

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