Warriors will die if they charge.

After the battle ended and it was confirmed that the pursuing goblins had been driven away, the two quickly moved to a different location.

The forests of Linhe Town are home to many terrifying beasts, and the thick smell of blood at the battleground will surely attract greedy and hungry monsters.

After walking quite a distance, they arrived at a stream with a wide view. Marcus flicked his torch to confirm that the water was shallow and unlikely to harbor any water ghosts, then said to the slightly tired Bardin:

"That's fine. Let's rest for the night and head back to town tomorrow morning."

Bardin nodded, unzipped his tightly packed backpack, and took out a bottle of ale that looked quite old: "Try it, I brewed it myself, I guarantee it'll taste like something you've never experienced before."

Marcus took the bottle and asked somewhat suspiciously, "This isn't Dwarf Beer, is it?"

There was a case in the warrior's handbook about someone dying from drinking dwarf beer, so Marcus naturally had to be careful.

"Of course it's Dwarf Beer, I brewed it myself!" Bardin blew his beard, thinking Marcus doubted his brewing skills.

"..."

Go ahead and drink it. I can't just take a small sip when I've already bet on the one percent chance of winning.

Marcus tore open the bottle, and a fresh scent of malt and herbs wafted out. He sniffed it and could roughly distinguish that it contained acorns, rye, and a slightly pungent, sweet aroma.

Take a small sip, and your eyes will instantly light up. It's spicy but not irritating, and the flavor travels from your tongue through your stomach. The astringent, herbal bitterness is mixed with a sweet taste similar to pineapple.

He gave the dwarf a thumbs-up and handed the bottle back to him.

"Not a sip? This is a special brew." Bardin shook the bottle, speaking eloquently:

"Wheat grown at an altitude of 3,000 meters, white acorns from the Prati Forest, hops from the Arctic, a spoonful of sweet pineapple from Linhe Town, and the wisdom and experience of the dwarves—all these ingredients, refined over time, have resulted in this Hazaka that everyone will love."

Marcus doesn't know much about alcohol; he used to drink mostly beer to quench his thirst in the summer.

In Linhe Town, the main product sold was a small copper coin for a large cup of rye beer, which could help dockworkers forget the troubles of a day's work and their sore shoulders and backs.

He washed the goblin blood off his face by the stream and asked curiously, "You've been to many places? Why would a dwarf leave his homeland and run to the remote southern rainforest? Rivertown must be very far from the mountains where you live, Bardin."

Bardin, who had been very talkative throughout the journey, suddenly fell silent.

He raised his glass and gulped down several mouthfuls, the murky wine stains dripping down his beard, which was covered in goblin blood, and into the mud, creating a hole.

"I'm looking for a lost treasure of the dwarves."

"Did you find it?" The straightforward Marcus didn't think twice, rubbing the dried bloodstains on his hands by the stream. "Could the treasure you're looking for be in the hands of those goblins?"

"No, I'm not sure, but I will never give up as long as there is even the slightest hope!" Bardin mumbled, taking a large gulp of wine.

He then pulled two gold coins engraved with a griffin symbol from his bag and handed them to Marcus, who was walking over, his tone becoming harsh.

"Take it. Dwarves never owe anyone anything."

Marcus sat on the pile of stones, refusing the gold coins, and said casually, "We've killed goblins together, yet you won't even tell me what you're looking for? You're just like an elf, so awkward."

He had never seen elves, but he had heard that those with beautiful pointed ears liked to look down on people and never told the truth.

Bardin, his crimson nostrils flaring with two thick, white breaths, was clearly annoyed by Marcus's elven analogy. He mumbled, "I am searching for the Hammer of Destiny, a lost artifact that even the rune masters of the mountains believe is impossible to find."

Marcus chuckled awkwardly. He had thought the dwarf was a wandering bartender named Bardin Stormstout, never expecting him to carry such an important mission.

He said instinctively, "How could we not find it? With my intelligence and your brute strength, finding a broken hammer would be as easy as grabbing a goblin's head. We'd find it in no time."

Bardeen laughed heartily, seemingly amused by Marcus. He shook the bottle and said with a sigh, "The Hammer of Destiny... If you find it, old Bardeen will brew beer for you for the rest of your life."

[Mission: Return Home]

[Quest Description: In the primordial era of creation, before the gods had manifested their miracles, the first runemaster, Thorik Anvil, listened to the teachings of the Father God Ramdin and inscribed all runes onto the Hammer of Fate.]

Bardin Greenok, the Black Abyss dwarf who was about to become the Hearthguard, committed a desecration during a carnival of blood and fire—a tragic event—and vowed to retrieve the Hammer of Destiny to wash away the stain it had brought upon his clan.

Bardeen Greenock entrusts you with finding the Hammer of Destiny to complete your redemption and return home.

[Quest Reward: 1 Legendary Card Scroll]

[Note: Dwarfs don't lie, but they also don't like to speak their minds.]

【Whether to accept. 】

Legendary card scroll.

Marcus's eyes widened in amazement. If he could draw an Immortal-level talent, as long as it wasn't some joke like "The Warrior's Handbook"... he'd be set for life.

"Alright, I'll take it, Brother Dwarf."

Bardin was taken aback, and suddenly felt that the wine in his mouth had lost its flavor. He had traveled with many people along the way, most of whom regarded the Hammer of Destiny as a legend.

"Big guy, that's the Hammer of Destiny, do you know what it is?"

"I don't know, but since you're looking for it, and I just left the dock where I worked, we should team up and look for it together. There's nothing you can't find."

A complex expression flickered across the dwarf's face, a mixture of doubt and bitterness. He stared intently into Marcus's earnest eyes, and then his large, bearded face broke into a wide laugh.

"You're right, let's go look together. There's nothing we can't find."

When the topic of the legendary card scrolls from the dwarf quest came up, Marcus suddenly remembered that he had completed the [Warrior's Path] quest and still had a common card scroll in his hand.

He looked around but didn't find anything ominous. Bading's skin wasn't dark; it was a healthy wheatish-yellow.

Looking up at the sky again, the white moon had reached the center of the heavens, its gentle, gauze-like light shining on my face, bringing me a sense of peace.

Stable.

Marcus didn't go all in this time. After initially resolving the issue of strength, he prepared to test the lower limit of the cheat code and see how different the prizes were at each level.

Marcus tossed the card into the prize pool, and the roulette wheel spun again. The white prizes made him scoff. "I'm a man who holds immortal items, why would I care about these pieces of junk?"

The pointer spun wildly for three seconds before slowly landing on a shawl-shaped object.

Congratulations! You have won the common item "Cloak of Intelligence"!

Marcus made a show of pulling out a blue and white cloak from behind his waist. The silk surface was spotless, and three finger-thick sapphires were inlaid on the shoulders, with the gems occasionally revealing a mysterious aura that seemed to emanate magical energy.

[Cloak of Intelligence: I guarantee that if this were put on an ogre, it would be able to count from one to ten—Peter the Magical Tailor.]

[Effect Details: Slightly increases the wearer's Intelligence attribute.]

His gaze began to glaze over. How could he possibly give me an intelligence cloak when I'm just a warrior with no skills?