Dant's Greatsword

"Sellsword?"

Tales's mind was a blur. Wrapped in a blanket and only just regaining some strength, he felt as though he had just been hauled out of icy water.

"Sellsword..."

What was that?

He stared blankly at the smug Kuaishang.

Just then, a loud, powerful female voice came from behind Tales. "Mercenary."

"We're mercenaries—as for 'sellsword,' that's what some people call us. It may be straightforward, vivid, simple, and easy to understand, but except for rookies who have just entered the trade, we generally don't call ourselves that. It's like how merchants don't call themselves 'money-seekers,' apprentices don't call themselves 'freeloaders,' and women who can't find men or men who can't find women don't call themselves 'undesirables.'"

Rookies who had just entered the trade—Kuaishang's high spirits instantly wilted, and he stuck his tongue out at Tales.

Tales couldn't help noticing that although she spoke the Common Tongue, her diction was awkward and her pronunciation high-pitched. Many of her accents and inflections differed greatly from the Northern Land Common Tongue he was familiar with, and they didn't match the Everstar City accent he remembered either.

He turned around.

Three lightly equipped warriors, their heads and faces covered and their movements swift, appeared in his field of vision, their boots crunching over the gravel. Passersby avoided them as soon as they saw them.

They stepped into the firelight and removed their veils and headscarves one after another.

One was a slightly dark-skinned young man with his entire face painted in obscure black patterns. Two curved blades crossed over his back, with a hilt jutting over each shoulder, and his gaze toward Tales remained wary. Another was a sturdy, middle-aged warrior with graying hair. He set down a frightening warhammer equipped with both a hammerhead and spikes, then contentedly enjoyed the warmth of