Warriors will die if they charge.

Chapter 96 The Dwarfs' Past

As mentioned, the ship that Kuran bet on has gone missing.

A mysterious boat, carved with a bust of the Water Queen, left a complete rope on the riverbank and quietly departed into the night, leaving only the roaring Niloka and the violent splashing of waves in one's ears.

"This is troublesome. I've never been to this godforsaken place before. Who knows how far it is from the town?" Marcus pondered for a while and decided that he couldn't cross the rainforest on foot.

The four professionals could withstand the harsh environment of the rainforest, but Eileen clearly couldn't. Last time, she brought along a troublesome Jenny, which slowed down the team's progress considerably. After all, Jenny was a mage apprentice and seemed to have undergone some training.

As for the noble lady who had only been gone for half an hour, her cheeks were covered in a thick layer of sweat, she was panting heavily, and she was drinking water to replenish her strength, Marcus thought it was going to be tough.

"Let's cut down a tree and make a canoe, Bardin, can you?"

"I can give it a try, but I can't guarantee it will be stable."

"Just don't let it capsize."

Forced to stay here for a period of time, the supply and demand for making canoes is not complicated. Choose a large tree with a straight trunk and few branches, and use a wedge to knock the tree down.

This task was no challenge for strong and robust warriors and wandering knights; battle axes were not only useful for cutting people down, but also for doing manual labor.

The two found a tall, straight pine tree. Bardin tapped the trunk to confirm that the tree was still healthy, with solid wood inside and no rot. He marked the felling point at the base and signaled to the tough guy to get started.

Marcus spat into his palm, caught the one-handed battle axe that Sedin threw to him. He was quite comfortable using it, only slightly inferior to a war club.

After all, the war club is a must-try specialty of Linhe Town. As an enemy, you can experience the moment your head is smashed, and as a user, you can enjoy this rare thrill.

The axe fell, smashing the pine tree and sending up a shower of debris. The entire tree trembled violently, and its leaves fell like snow.

Even the priest who had witnessed Marcus's brute strength firsthand yesterday was astonished by his unnaturally strong arms; perhaps he hadn't used his true power that night.

"Tough guy, you keep chopping, I'll go find some fresh fruit."

"Don't go too far, I still need your strong arms to help me."

"Haha, you should always believe in dwarfs."

Bardin laughed loudly, grabbed his dagger and leather bag, and plunged headlong into the dense jungle.

Bardin is always busy identifying new plants found in the forest; these treasures, brimming with tropical passion, always inspire the winemaker's creative enthusiasm.

Imagine if you could use guava, passion fruit, and lime to brew a barrel of wine with a rich fruity aroma and abundant flavor.

If you have a strong, flavorful spirit, you won't need to keep experimenting with and optimizing your ale recipes.

The old folks in the mountains, when brewing beer, will use hops precisely down to every milliliter.

A certified brewer in the guild must be able to accurately tell how long the beer has been brewing, where the water source is, when the hops were picked, where the barrels are placed, and whether the cellar is cool or damp.

Greenock disliked this approach. Indeed, those winemakers who held their own secret recipes in their hearts produced impeccable mash, with the best taste, foam, and smoothness.

But he didn't like it.

He walked up to a shrub covered with tiny red fruits and suddenly remembered what had happened before he went to the riverside forest.

That night, young York appeared in the cellar. Nora's only son watched the dwarf craftsman stuffing ingredients into the barrels and muttered, "Bardin, Mom said you can't keep ruining the beer. Last time you secretly added a spoonful of chili to the ale, and the guests were making a ruckus all night."

"Don't worry, little one, the old lady will understand a dwarf's passion for wine, and besides, with a tough guy around, no one will dare to cause trouble."

Little York turned his head and shouted towards the cellar stairs, "Sister, Bardin's been secretly making wine again!"

"Damn it, he's like a goblin, always managing to sneak into the wine cellar when no one's looking."

Bardin was kicked out of the wine cellar he had been longing for by Rosa. He sighed and said that she had not inherited the wisdom of the old maid Nora, and valued money more than wisdom.

Rosa retorted, "Dwarf Master, this is a tavern. Those drunkards can't taste watered-down ale, but they'd never like chili water that makes their throats burn."

Nonsense, tough guys like to drink chili water.

Thinking about this, Bardin couldn't help but laugh. Life is never easy, no matter where you are. Nora has two good children who are doing their best to help run the tavern.

He put the fruit into the leather bag, then suddenly looked around as if deliberately avoiding someone's gaze, and took out a flat piece of linen from his waist pouch.

He gently unwrapped the three layers of burlap, stared at the palm-sized silver fragment in his hand, and fell into memories.

Three months ago, the dwarves, hoping to try their luck, sailed south from Dorne, near Silvermount, and arrived at Riverside.

The main reason was that while chatting with the dwarves of Silver Mountain City, he heard that there used to be a silver mine to the south.

At its peak, some dwarves were involved in silver mining as mine planners, and they would usually carry some essential items with them when mining silver.

He had little interest in silver and also disliked the money-grubbing nature of the Silver Mountain dwarves.

They even forgot their ancient beliefs, no longer offering sacrifices to helmets and battle axes in their homes, but instead worshipping Delauri, the goddess of fortune and wealth, who speaks in a dwarven language with a human accent, asking him if he wants to find work.

Yes, he is indeed looking for work, collecting lost runes.

Bardin raised the palm-width silver piece in his hand and examined the runes that resembled doorposts in the dim light of the room.

This was an item he stole from a rainforest goblin. He didn't know the specific meaning of the rune, as knowledge about runes in the mountains was monopolized by rune blacksmiths.

A Hearth Guardian who has chosen self-exile can only be initially guessed from the tattoo on his shoulder as a rune symbolizing a level and protection.

He pulled open his shirt, revealing his muscular physique covered in tattoos. These symbols, once representing honor, always made Bardin feel a pang of sadness whenever he saw them.

If I manage to bring out that book, *Relics of the Dark Ages of the Dwarves*—

Damn it, Bardin, you need to understand, the tough guy did everything he could to get you out of there, you can't ask for anything more!

He observed the pattern on the silver piece in his hand, and his sense of powerlessness grew stronger.

I accomplished nothing, not in the mountains, not in the human world, and even in the devil's game, I dragged the team down.

But the tough guy gave me a glimmer of hope: if we could see Emma again, if that devil was watching him, if he was being treated like a plaything—

Bardin was ashamed of the vile thoughts in his mind. He began to chew his beard, gripping the sharp silver blade tightly. His palm was cut open, and blood dripped out.

You're not even as good as a goblin, Bardeen Greenok!

But apart from doing this, you have found no other way to atone for the mistakes you have made.

No!

Lost in thought, the dwarf lost track of time until Marcus's shouts pierced the sweltering heat and commotion of the rainforest and reached his ears.

"Brother Dwarf, where have you been? I don't know how to do carpentry."

Bardin loosened his grip, biting his beard, and muttered to himself in a lighthearted tone, "Well, tough guys always like to bother dwarves. Without me, he can't even walk."

The dwarf bandaged his bleeding hand, tidied his messy, drool-covered beard, and placed the rune silver plate.

When Bardeen saw Marcus fiddling with the big tree, his beard trembled as he laughed.

"How pathetic, tough guy. Even goblins are better at chopping trees than you."