Elven cultivators

The bald, burly man, who had finally caught his breath, turned bright red upon hearing this and glared angrily at Anton.

The lean man behind them also realized something was wrong; their target was clearly much stronger than they had anticipated.

He could no longer bear to watch the show. He quickly drew his weapon and moved like a ghost to Anton's side, thrusting his sword straight at the latter's ribs.

Anton parried with his sword, and after a few exchanges, he quickly assessed his opponent's strength.

Another silver mid-tier player.

Looking around Biyue Harbor, those at the Silver Rank can already be considered experts.

The fact that the Blazing Fire Merchant Guild sent two Silver-rank warriors to "invite" someone is already considered a high-level gesture.

Unfortunately, they happened to run into Anton.

After discovering the two men's backgrounds, Anton no longer held back. Facing the weapons coming from both sides, he did not dodge at all, and a layer of dark golden light suddenly appeared on his body.

Golden armor is forbidden!

Clang! Clang!

The battle axe and the short sword struck the thin, shimmering light almost simultaneously, but they struck it like rusty leather, producing two dull thuds and failing to advance an inch.

The bald, burly man's pupils constricted sharply, and an incredulous look of horror appeared on the face of the lean man.

Before they could react, Anton had already reached out and grabbed the blade of the battle axe, and then struck out with his other hand.

His palms were as red as branding irons, with faint golden light flowing beneath his skin, as if magma was surging in his veins, carrying an intense aura that could burn everything.

Melt Soldier Hand!

The bald, burly man had no way to avoid it and took a solid blow to the chest.

In an instant, his iron-plated leather armor was pierced through by the high temperature as if it were made of paper. His chest charred and carbonized at a speed visible to the naked eye, and his flesh evaporated, revealing the charred ribs and internal organs underneath.

Before he could even scream, he was sent flying backward, crashing heavily against the alleyway wall, his body turning into a charred corpse as he slid down.

From the moment the attack was made to the moment of death, it was only a breath.

The lean man had never seen such a bizarre and terrifying combat technique before. His expression changed drastically, and he quickly withdrew.

But Anton's figure flashed, and he swiftly rushed in front of him like a shadow, striking out with the same palm.

Startled, the lean man had no choice but to swing his sword to meet the attack.

The sharp blade struck Anton's palm, producing a clear, ringing sound like metal clashing.

The next second, the lean man suddenly screamed in agony, as if he had been burned, and quickly released the hilt of his sword, clutching his hand and staggering backward, looking at Anton in utter horror.

The longsword fell to the ground, its blade crimson red, twisted and deformed, and the wooden scabbard and hilt shattered, resembling charred wood, as if it had been thrown into a blacksmith's furnace and melted for a long time.

The wiry man, now unarmed, was no match for Anton. After barely managing to hold out for a few rounds, Anton struck him on the forehead with a palm strike.

laugh!

Smoke billowed, flesh charred and burned, the wiry man's head was instantly scorched by the high temperature, his eyes bulged out, his body stiffened for a moment, and then he collapsed to the ground with a thud.

The alleyway reeked of a strong, acrid smell, and two corpses lay motionless on the ground.

Anton withdrew his hand, and the crimson color faded like the tide, returning to normal in an instant.

He glanced down at the two corpses, his expression as calm as if he had merely crushed two ants.

Bending down to search the body.

The bald, burly man had nothing on him except a bag of gold coins.

The lean man had an inconspicuous gray bag hanging from his waist. It had no decorations on the surface, but the texture of it felt somewhat special.

Anton examined it carefully, and a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes.

Dimensional Bag!

Although it is only a secondary magical item, the lowest grade of storage items, with an internal space of less than five cubic meters, its advantage lies in that it can be used repeatedly and will not disintegrate when items are taken out, making it much more useful than a storage talisman.

This was undoubtedly an unexpected bonus for Anton, who had recently found the storage talismans increasingly inconvenient to access.

"For the sake of the dimensional bag, we'll allow your guild leader to enjoy some freedom for now."

Anton glanced in the direction of Tide Street, packed his things, and turned to leave.

The Blazing Fire Merchant Guild is, after all, one of the top powers in Azurewater Port, with a profound foundation, as evidenced by the fact that they casually dispatched two Silver-rank warriors to intercept people.

Now is not the time to confront the Blazing Fire Merchant Guild head-on.

It's not too late to get revenge after we've successfully established our foundation.

......

Silvermoon Forest.

As dusk deepened, the last golden-red hue on the horizon was swallowed by the deep blue, and the canopy of the Tree of Eternity lit up with specks of silvery-white light, like an inverted galaxy, swaying gently in the night breeze.

Anton returned to the treehouse door and was about to push it open when he suddenly heard footsteps behind him.

"Anton!"

He turned around and saw Eleanor walking quickly towards him.

"You're finally back." Eleanor stopped in front of him, slightly out of breath. "Grayrock Castle sent an envoy, and the Third Elder sent me to find you."

"Gray Rock Fortress?" Anton was slightly taken aback. "They've arrived so quickly?"

He thought the negotiations between the clan and Grayrock Fortress would take at least ten days to half a month, but to his surprise, Grayrock Fortress sent an envoy over in just three days.

It seems the dwarves are even more eager for the Frostweave Silver veins than he expected.

"I don't know the specific details either," Eleanor shook her head, "but judging from the Third Elder's expression, the negotiations seem to be going smoothly."

Anton nodded, asked no further questions, and followed Eleanor toward the north of the settlement.

The two walked through layers of tree corridors and soon arrived at a spacious clearing near the edge of the forest.

Before he even got close, Anton heard a commotion.

The clanging of metal against metal, cheers, and shouts were mixed in with a few loud, gruff voices.

After rounding an ancient oak tree, Anton finally saw the situation in the clearing.

The Third Elder stood at the edge of the open space, a smile on his face, talking to a dwarf beside him.

The dwarf was about 1.4 meters tall, but his shoulders were incredibly broad, like a heavy oak door panel.

His dark brown hair and beard were braided into dense, fine braids, the ends of which were adorned with copper rings and tiny gems that jingled with his movements.

He wore a finely crafted chainmail, with a warhammer hanging from his waist. The hammerhead was engraved with dwarven runes, and a faint, earthy yellow light flowed between the patterns, clearly indicating that it was a magical item.

Although their lifespan is not as long as that of elves, dwarves are still considered a long-lived species.

The natural lifespan is about 350 to 450 years, and one enters middle age at 100.

It is difficult to judge the age of dwarves from their appearance. They all have a rugged face, and male dwarves have a full beard.

As long as one hasn't reached old age, their appearance will hardly change.

Behind the Warhammer Dwarf stood four or five other dwarves, some carrying battle axes and others carrying muskets, all with their eyes fixed on the center of the open space.

There, two figures were engaged in a fierce battle.

One of them is Roman.

She gripped the Frost-Patterned Axe in both hands, her long silver hair tied in a ponytail that fell behind her head, rising and falling with each movement, her amber eyes burning with intense fighting spirit.

Each swing of the axe blade was accompanied by a muffled thunderclap, and a blue-white cold tide surged like a raging torrent, leaving trails of frost on the ground.

Her opponent was a dwarf with a fiery red beard, wielding a double-edged battle axe.

He was even shorter than the average dwarf, but much more robust, with arms thicker than Roman's thighs and muscles that were as bulging as the roots of an old tree.

Faced with Roman's offensive, the red-bearded dwarf did not dodge at all, but instead swung his axe to meet the attack head-on.

The two sides fought with overwhelming force, their momentum like two heavily armored bronze men colliding, producing a deafening clang of metal.

The shockwave generated by the clash of the two battle axes was visible to the naked eye, sending rubble and fallen leaves flying everywhere.

A moment later, the red-bearded dwarf suddenly withdrew and retreated.

"I'm not fighting anymore!"

He glanced sullenly at the frost-patterned axe in Roman's hand, then at his own double-edged battle axe, which was now covered in a layer of frost.

"That axe of yours is too overpowered. If our weapons were the same, you would be no match for me!"