I, a cultivator, have ended up in the wizarding world.

Chapter 117 Provocation
As soon as he stepped through the gates of Golden Harbor, a wave of noise overwhelmed Jemin.

Huge stone buildings and wooden piers intertwine, standing side by side, stretching all the way to the coastline.

The sea breeze carries the salty, fishy smell mixed with the rich aroma of spices, filling every corner.

In the distance, rough singing and clamor rose and fell from the tavern.

Arcane runes shimmered on the gates of the Magic Guild, mysterious and alluring, while the towering Temple of the Gods radiated a holy light, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the world.

Jemin walked silently down the street, observing the people around him.

A bustling crowd moved through the streets, a diverse mix of people, each displaying their unique characteristics.

Elegantly dressed noblemen and merchants, with graceful manners and shrewd eyes, brushed past the rugged pirates. The pirates had curved swords at their waists, their eyes fierce, revealing a bloodthirsty nature.

Loud-voiced dwarf merchants hawked their wares by the roadside, their voices mingling with the soft conversations of elven rangers. The various accents created a unique cacophony in this port city.

Jemin—or rather, his current alias "Jack"—followed the flow of people toward a tavern in the port area that also served as an adventurers' guild.

The wooden sign creaked in the sea breeze, and the words "Drunken Dolphin" were written on it in crooked characters.

If it weren't for the adventurer's badge next to it, probably no one would recognize that this is an adventurer's guild.

Pushing open the dilapidated door, a pungent smell mixed with malt liquor, sweat, and tobacco hit me.

The tavern was dimly lit, with a thick layer of wooden planks on the floor, covered with dirty water, making it look filthy and messy.

Long wooden tables and benches were casually placed, and groups of adventurers chatted loudly, either boasting about their achievements or cursing about their missions.

The air was thick with a sense of oppressive violence and the stench of money's corruption.

As soon as Jemin entered, he attracted the attention of almost everyone in the tavern. Although the tavern's liveliness remained unchanged, he could clearly feel the subtle glances directed at him.

After all, the profession of adventurer sounds quite free, but in reality, it is quite geographically restricted.

After all, most of the lower-level adventurers are not very strong, and they do low-level jobs such as cleaning up the silt in underground tunnels, which is equivalent to the gods of the other world.

Jobs in a city are limited, so every newcomer receives a lot of attention.

Jemin knew these things through Jack's memories, but he ignored them.

He walked straight to the counter and handed over the somewhat folded and worn letter and the mission credentials that proved his identity.

The bartender behind the counter was a fat orc. He took the voucher with his stubby fingers, glanced at it, and after confirming that it was correct, casually tossed a few silver coins to Jemin.

"Mission accomplished, Jack. Next time, remember not to fold the mission letter into such a mess," the orc muttered.

"Got it," Jemin replied gruffly, casually taking the silver coin without giving it a second glance.

He turned around, intending to find a corner to sit down and observe his surroundings.

Just as he turned around, a thin hand reached out like a ghost to his waist, trying to steal the bag of silver coins he had just received.

This is a common "greeting gift" in adventurers' guilds—a way to test the newcomer's abilities.

Jemin continued to walk forward as if he hadn't noticed, but his left hand shot out like lightning and grabbed the wrist of the person who was trying to steal.

With a slight twist of his fingers, a sickening "crack" was heard, and the thief's arm was twisted into a chilling angle.

"Ah!!!" The thief let out a heart-wrenching scream.

His body went limp and he collapsed to the ground, convulsing, drenched in cold sweat.

Jemin didn't even bother to turn his head, and walked slowly toward the door.

The tavern fell silent for a moment, all the noise abruptly ceasing.

Too bad!
That was too ruthless!
The adventurers' attention wasn't all focused on Jemin; instead, many people's eyes were drawn to the table in the very center of the tavern.

A tall, burly man with a face full of scars sat there—"Iron Hammer" Carl, the local tyrant and the mastermind behind the thieves.

Generally speaking, once the thief is dealt with, Jemin has passed the test and no one will dare to mess with him again.

However, his actions were far too ruthless; this was no ordinary response, but a blatant attempt to establish his authority!
Undoubtedly, this would be seen as a blatant provocation by the thief gang.

Carl's face was so dark it could drip water; Jemin's ruthless approach was undoubtedly a challenge to his authority.

"This kid doesn't know the rules?" Seeing his boss's gloomy expression, another adventurer at the table immediately prepared to stand up and teach Jemin a lesson.

Karl snorted coldly, stopping his subordinate's actions, and waved his hand with a slightly reserved air: "Sigh, he's just a newbie. He'll learn his lesson after suffering a few losses."

She was clearly a big, burly guy, but she acted all delicate and pretentious.

However, no one dared to laugh at him. Carl did this to imitate those "high society" people, and anyone who dared to mock him had long been drowned in the moat. The others at the table couldn't help but laugh maliciously upon hearing this, all giving Jemin a sinister look.

They knew this kid was in for a rough time.

Once they understood their boss's attitude, the others became a little more open about their statements.

At a table near the door, a henchman suddenly stretched out a thick leg as Jemin passed by, seemingly unintentionally tripping Jemin's ankle!
A barely perceptible hint of mockery flashed in Jemin's eyes.

He didn't stop walking, and then without hesitation, he stepped on the outstretched leg!
Click!

The crisp sound of bones breaking was exceptionally clear in the silent tavern!
The defiant expression on the younger brother's face froze instantly, replaced by extreme pain and contortion.

He let out a scream even more piercing than the previous thief's, and collapsed to the ground like a piece of rotten wood, clutching his leg which was twisted at an unnatural angle, rolling on the ground and howling in agony.

Everyone in the tavern was completely stunned.

It was one thing to lay a hand on a thief before, but now they dare to attack "Iron Hammer" Karl's men and even break one of their legs?!

This kid is absolutely insane!

"Charge him! Kill him!"

Carl's face darkened instantly, and he abandoned all pretense of playing the role of a high-class person, roaring with all his might.

Several of Karl's henchmen, who usually hung out with him, instantly turned red with rage, grabbed swords and bottles, and swarmed towards Jemin!

A smile played on Jemin's lips. Looking at the scene before him, he felt no tension whatsoever; in fact, he found it somewhat amusing.

Facing seven or eight burly men rushing at him, he moved like a ghost through the narrow space.

His movements were simple yet deadly, each punch and kick carrying terrifying power and precise angles.

Bang!
A side kick struck the thigh of the fastest charging man. A scream rang out as the man's thigh bone snapped, and he flew backward like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily into the wall before sliding down.

Click!

Jemin slightly turned his body to avoid a dagger thrusting at him, then grabbed another man's arm with his other hand and twisted it sharply, causing another sound of bones cracking to be heard.

"what!!"

In less than ten seconds, accompanied by a series of cracking bones and screams, all seven or eight burly men who had surrounded Jemin had their thighs or arms broken by him, and were piled up like garbage in the center of the tavern, howling in agony.

Because the time was too short, these people didn't even have time to beg for mercy.

The other adventurers in the tavern were completely terrified by what they saw.

They were originally looking forward to a good show, but they never expected that this newcomer would be so strong!
Standing behind his group of underlings, Karl was the lucky one who wasn't broken. Looking at the scene before him, he couldn't help but swallow hard.

Seeing that Jemin's gaze was fixed on the iron hammer in his hand, Carl panicked as if he had been burned, hurriedly dropped the hammer, and, disregarding his "prestige," scrambled out of the tavern.

Those adventurers who were originally itching to take advantage of the chaos shrank back into their seats, pretending they hadn't seen anything.

They kept their heads down, staring intently at the wine glasses in front of them, or casually wiping their weapons, as if afraid of being caught by Jemin's cold eyes.

They could even sense the stench of blood and rust in the air—proof of overwhelming power.

"Another formidable character has arrived..." someone muttered to themselves, their face turning pale.

"Much more ruthless than Iron Hammer Karl..."

Jemin glanced at the groaning crowd lying on the ground, then at the trembling "spectators."

He didn't make another move. He walked straight to an empty table, sat down, picked up a glass with wine stains, and poured himself a full glass of malt liquor.

I was going to take a sip to mark the occasion, but seeing the unidentified dirt all over the glass, I had no choice but to give up.

With a disdainful "tsk," Jemin placed his glass back on the table and swayed away from the tavern with the same unsteady gait he had taken when he entered.

That relaxed figure made it seem as if everything that had just happened was just a trivial interlude.

It wasn't until Jemin pushed open the door and left, completely disappearing from everyone's sight, that the tavern suddenly became lively again.

Everyone tacitly avoided discussing Jemin, who had just left, and instead talked about other topics in a more enthusiastic atmosphere, as if this could drive away the fear that Jemin had left in their hearts.

As for the unfortunate souls whose bones were broken, nobody cared about them. In the end, the bar hired a few adventurers to throw them out.

Whether I'll live to see tomorrow depends on luck.

From this moment on, the Adventurers' Guild in Golden Harbor had one more formidable figure to avoid – “Jack”.

(End of this chapter)