Elven cultivators

Thousands of rocky hills, mining camp.

The setting sun bathed the valley in a golden hue.

In the open space in the center of the camp, the dwarves sat around the campfire, drinking heartily from wooden cups, chatting and laughing.

Grimm was tilting his head back and chugging fiery liquor when he suddenly heard footsteps coming from the gravel path.

He turned his head and saw a group of elven guards escorting supplies into the camp.

The leader was an old acquaintance named Kellerb, a squad leader of the forest guard who had previously been in charge of leading troops to guard the mining area.

However, the Silvermoon Clan had to redeploy its guards from the mining area to deal with the Molten Thorn Tribe, and the two hardly saw each other again.

"Kaleb!" Grimm raised his glass in greeting, grinning. "Why are you delivering supplies yourself today? Where are the little guys?"

Kellerb directed his men to move the supplies to the designated location before walking over and sitting on the open ground by the campfire, a smile he couldn't suppress on his face.

"I'm in a good mood today, so I volunteered to make this trip."

"What happened?" Grimm asked curiously.

Kellerb chuckled and said, "Today we won a great victory in our battle against the Molten Thorn tribe. We not only killed more than five hundred lizardmen, but also captured more than one hundred."

"Oh?" Grimm's eyes widened slightly, his face showing surprise.

A battle that resulted in the killing and capture of six or seven hundred lizardmen was undoubtedly a great victory.

"How did you do that?" Grimm asked curiously.

The other dwarves, including Elder Torwin who was sitting not far away, also stopped talking and looked at them with surprise.

Based on what they had seen and heard during this period, the war between the Silvermoon Clan and the Molten Thorn Tribe had been very intense, with the Silvermoon Clan only barely gaining the upper hand.

Logically speaking, such a resounding victory should be difficult to achieve.

Kellerb smiled slightly, took a sip from the water pouch at his waist, wiped his mouth, and then slowly spoke.

"It's all thanks to Anton."

Anton?

The dwarves became even more curious.

What does this have to do with Anton?

Could it be that Anton has developed some powerful rune equipment or potion again?

Kellerb didn't keep them in suspense any longer and said with a smile, "Anton has advanced to the Gold rank. He personally killed a Gold rank dragon lizardman on the battlefield, which directly crushed the morale of that group of reptiles. We pressed our advantage and achieved a great victory."

His words struck like a thunderbolt, leaving the group of dwarves stunned in place.

Grimm's wine glass froze in mid-air, his copper bell-like eyes widening in disbelief.

He wondered if he had misheard, and stammered again, "An...Anton...advanced to the Gold rank? That little guy who's not even an adult yet?"

Kellerb nodded with a beaming smile, his face revealing undisguised pride.

Upon confirmation, the dwarves were immediately in an uproar.

"A golden age under a hundred years old?"

"What kind of talent is this? It's unbelievable!"

"Isn't Anton always busy making potions and rune-enhanced equipment? How come his strength has increased so quickly?"

"incredible......"

Even Elder Torwin was stunned and sat there in disbelief when he first heard the news.

In his mind, Anton had always been a genius proficient in alchemy and pharmacology, a precious treasure that needed to be protected.

Even knowing that Anton also possessed talent in both magic and martial arts, compared to his astonishing skills in potion making, this talent in cultivation was nothing.

He always thought that Anton's strength was at most at the Silver rank.

But no one expected that Anton, at such a young age, was already at the Gold rank!

Keep in mind that he is over three hundred years old this year, and he is only in the middle of the golden rank.

This comparison made him feel for a moment that he had wasted all his years of cultivation on dogs.

Caleb watched the dwarves' reactions with growing satisfaction.

In the past, the Silvermoon Clan was only considered average among the surrounding forces, far inferior to the powerful and well-equipped Grayrock Fortress, which could easily bully even the insignificant Molten Thorn tribe.

But things are different now.

Anton's arrival is gradually changing everything.

From Dragon Essence Potions to Rune Equipment, and now to Gold-Tier Combat Power, Anton has repeatedly surprised them, constantly increasing the clan's confidence.

This confidence has allowed the Silvermoon Clan to stand taller and more assertive when dealing with other forces.

After enjoying the dwarves' amazement and praise for a while, Caleb left satisfied.

The dwarves, however, were still reeling from the shock of Anton's ascension to the Gold rank, and were filled with awe.

Thorvin, observing this, suddenly snorted coldly and reprimanded, "Now you know there are always people better than you, right? Don't think you're so great all the time. There are plenty of geniuses in this world who are more outstanding than you."

The young dwarves' faces turned bright red, whether from the fiery liquor or from shame, they all lowered their heads.

Grimm, however, was thick-skinned. He gave an awkward smile, leaned close to Thorvin, and whispered, "Elder, I heard that the Silvermoon Clan intends to—uh, invites—to cooperate with us against the Molten Thorn Tribe. Is that true?"

"That's true," Thorvin said, taking a swig of his drink. "But the patriarch hasn't given a clear answer yet."

Grim scoffed and said, "If you ask me, the chieftain should just agree. I've been annoyed with those reptilian Molybdenum tribe for a long time. Now that I have a chance to wipe them out, I definitely can't miss it."

The other dwarves all nodded in agreement.

The Grayrock Fortress and the Molten Thorn Tribe are not far apart, and they have clashed several times in the past.

They also disliked those cooling crawlers.

Thorvin glared at him and said irritably, "This is something only the chieftain should worry about. Why are you meddling? Instead of wasting your time, why don't you go dig a couple more cartloads of ore in Lane Three!"

Grim shrank back, muttered something under his breath, and retreated to the campfire to continue drinking.

Thorvin ignored him, looked away, and gazed at the leaping flames, lost in thought.

In fact, deep down he also preferred to join forces with the Silvermoon Clan.

It wasn't just to settle old scores with the Molten Thorn tribe; he also wanted to take this opportunity to obtain a batch of Frostweave equipment from Anton.

In addition, they also wanted to deepen their bond with the Silvermoon Clan.

The news he received today only strengthened his conviction.

A minor Gold-rank warrior.

An alchemist capable of mass-producing high-quality magical items.

A master who can improve a variety of strategic-level drugs.

Any one of these three identities could enable any power like the Silvermoon Clan or Grayrock Fortress to rise rapidly.

Moreover, all three identities are concentrated in one person.

The meaning behind this is self-evident.

Forging an alliance with the Silvermoon Clan now would undoubtedly be a profitable deal.

"That little guy has a limitless future."

Torvin suddenly had a feeling that he was witnessing the rise of a legend.