Why are all your skill bars full of weird moves?

"From now until now, I've seen at least three different mercenary groups come in."

Gauss looked in the direction Ura was pointing.

The first team wore silver cast iron light armor, and judging from their armbands, they were elite-level.

The second team is a mixed team of demi-humans and humans, and they are also experienced.

The third team consisted of half of them drinking with Balk, and they were all seasoned drinkers.

Aside from the group that was drinking, the rest of them sat together, neither chatting nor drinking.

"Pine Rock Ridge is close to trade routes, so it's not unusual for mercenaries to come and go," Gauss stated his opinion.

"The problem lies in the quality," Ula shook her head. "Generally, merchants only hire ordinary mercenaries. For a team of their caliber, the hiring price would be almost half the price of the merchandise itself, right?"

Gauss tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table.

I thought to myself that this was indeed not normal.

Mercenaries from different groups rarely sit together unless someone hires them.

Could it be related to that door?

"Oh, right, there's something I want to tell you."

Gauss snapped out of his reverie and briefly recounted the message the farmer had given him.

Ula frowned after hearing this.

"Dragon patterns...that sounds like the entrance to an ancient ruin." She drew a circle on the table with her fingernail. "Could it be that these mercenaries' goal is also that door?"

"Whether it is or not, I want to go in and take a look."

As soon as Gauss finished speaking, Mia's cat ears perked up.

"We're teammates, you can't abandon us."

Ula nodded slowly.

"That's right, there might be scrolls of ancient magic inside, which is too tempting for me."

"I don't know about Balk..."

"Bang!"

Gauss lowered his head.

Balk's entire body rolled to his feet due to inertia, his shoulder slamming hard against the table leg, causing the soup on the table to spill all over the floor.

Gauss gripped the short bow at his waist, stood up abruptly, and Ula and Mia followed closely behind.

"What a bunch of bastards! You can't even outdrink me, and your mouth stinks! Get back to the forest and find your goblins!"

The speaker was an orc mercenary, who wore a necklace made of boar tusks around his neck.

He stood up, placed his feet on the bench, raised his one-handed axe, and roared in Gauss's direction.

"With skills like yours, you think you can kill Darkborn?"

"boast!"

Balk shook his head, tried to get up by supporting himself on his arms, but his knees barely left the ground before he collapsed again, clearly drunk.

"Damn it!" The tavern owner emerged from behind the counter and rushed to the middle of the standoff, waving her hands frantically. "If you want to fight, go outside! I just replaced my tables and chairs recently!"

The other mercenaries either slammed their fists on the table and cheered, or kept splashing wine on Balk, even splashing it onto Gauss's boots.

Just as Gauss took down his short bow, he caught a glimpse of the movement beside him out of the corner of his eye.

Tilia was sitting at the bar, with three large wooden glasses of liquor in front of her, and even holding one in each hand.

At that moment, she tilted her head back and gulped down one of the glasses, the liquid sliding down her neck and into the collar of her cloak.

"Bang!"

She slammed the two glasses down heavily on the bar counter.

"Do you want to fight?"

Everyone stopped abruptly and looked in her direction.

A normal person can't handle two glasses of fruit wine, but Tilia probably drank five large glasses right now.

Gauss felt that it was unlikely that the security management fee could be saved today.

Tilia stood up from her chair, turned to face the crowd, and her face was not flushed from drinking too much. She looked no different from a normal person, perhaps because her resistance to numbness had taken effect.

"Separated by..."

She quickly raised her hand to cover her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise.

But gradually, she lowered her hand, her eyes curved into crescents, and she giggled.

The laughter was somewhat eerie and a little manic, making one's hair stand on end.

A dwarf jumped off the table, pointed at Tilia, and drunkenly said:

"Oh my god, then..."

Tilia didn't give him a chance to speak.

He grabbed the stool next to him and smashed it hard!

boom!

The wooden stool was smashed to pieces, and wood chips and bloody tooth sockets flew into the air, while the dwarf fell to the ground.

The tavern was silent for half a second, then erupted into chaos.

"Damn it! How dare they hit our people?"

A deep, resonant sound rang out, accompanied by a tremor in the ground. The wooden wine glasses on the table trembled slightly, and the wine rippled outwards.

Gauss glanced over and saw a burly man who was 2 meters tall and had shoulders so broad they could block half a door.

He stopped in front of Tilia.

"Miss," the burly man said, bowing his head, "you broke my companion's teeth. How are you going to compensate me?"

The burly man stretched out his large, fan-like hand and reached straight for Tilia's neck.

"A Soul Cage!"

In an instant, a dark green square magic circle appeared out of thin air beneath the strong man's feet.

The burly man's expression first turned to confusion, then to horror.

His whole body was frozen in place, unable to move an inch.

Immediately afterwards, a dark green chain emerged from the magic circle, climbed up the strong man's forearm, circled his elbow, wrapped around his shoulder blade, and finally disappeared into his chest.

The burly man's mouth gaped open, but no sound came out. His eyes darted around wildly, veins bulged on his forehead, and his entire face was contorted with fear.

He could feel something tearing at his soul, an irresistible sense of being ripped away, shooting straight to the top of his head.

"Necromantic school!" Someone in the corner suddenly stood up, pointing at Tilia, "She's a necromancer!"

The mercenaries in the tavern turned pale and instinctively took a step back.

Tilia looked at the burly man's pained expression, then opened her mouth, revealing two blood-sucking fangs protruding from her upper lip.

Gradually, she lowered her head and moved closer to the burly man's neck.

"No...don't..."

"despair."

A wooden cup was thrust horizontally, precisely blocking Tilia's sharp teeth.

"You're such a worry."

Tilia looked up at Gauss, her lips pursed in a pitiful expression.

"He's the one who wants to fight me."

"I see it." Gauss shoved the wooden cup into her hand. "I'll handle it."

Tilia took the wooden cup, obediently sat back down at the bar, and the cage of her soul dissipated.

The burly man collapsed to the ground, panting heavily, his entire body soaked in sweat.

His companions quickly came over to grab him and dragged him to a corner.

He kept glancing at Gauss during this time.

That powerful necromancer was actually persuaded to stop by this young man with just a few words.

Who exactly is he?

"Slap. Slap. Slap."

Applause suddenly came from the direction near the door, at a moderate pace.

The mercenaries quickly made way.

Gauss looked in the direction of the crowd and saw an elven man with long ears and delicate features, dressed in a dark green robe, walk out from the path cleared by the mercenaries.

Beside him was a middle-aged man dressed in a plain linen jacket, who appeared to be a servant.

The elf approached, glanced at Gauss briefly, and then turned her gaze to Tilia.

The elf then bowed slightly, placed his right hand on his chest, and extended his left hand to the side with his palm facing up, performing the standard etiquette of an elven noble.

"Miss," the elf's voice was gentle and clear, "your skill just now was truly admirable. Do you have time to step into the courtyard's veranda? I'd like to play you a song from a foreign land on my lute."

"What's up?" Gauss asked.

Before the elf could speak, the servant beside him stepped forward.

"Please watch your words, adventurer." His voice wasn't loud, but his tone was authoritative. "This is Lord Grant Helwin, heir of the Helwin family of the Emerald Forest. The Helwin family controls thirty percent of the Moonveil trade in the Elven Kingdom, and Mr. Grant is also a candidate for a seat on the Council of Elven Elders."

"I thought he was some important person," Ula said, leading Mia to Gauss's side, arms crossed, her tone dismissive. "But he's just a merchant and some nobody who's just there to make up the numbers."