Murloc Shoal

The middle-aged blacksmith's eyes lit up instantly.

To be honest, in the blacksmithing trade, low-level gear really doesn't make much money. Why? Because forging takes a long time, the prices are low, and the materials are common. Take a guard set, for example; you only make 1 gold coin per set. After deducting the wages for other blacksmiths and apprentices, a single order like that only nets a profit of 300 gold coins at best.

However, if you sell a piece of high-level gear, you might make 300 gold coins from just one item!

So, upon hearing Gryan's words, the middle-aged blacksmith was overjoyed and hurriedly asked, "Say, Gryan, what kind of gear do you need? How about a Stormwind Royal Knight Captain Set? I usually sell them for 1000 gold, but I'll give it to you for 800!"

Gryan's high-held head instantly drooped, the smile on his face stiffened, and he waved his hand frantically. "No, no! It's all flash and no substance! Do you think I'm joining a parade? I'm going to war! Get me something practical!"

The middle-aged blacksmith muttered something, agreed, and then turned around to pull a chest from the warehouse. He moved it to the table and said with a pained expression, "It's not easy for you out in Westfall. This set... take it for 800 gold!"

"What kind of junk are you trying to sell me for eight hundred gold..." Gryan wiped the dust off the chest and threw it open. The words he was about to say choked in his throat, and his eyes became glued to the contents.

Shawn was slightly stunned and quickly cast Eye of Insight on the gear in the chest, only to find that the skill didn't work at all. Those items were at least of Blue Rare quality!

After a long while, Gryan finally muttered to himself, "Lightforge! This is Lightforge!"

Hearing this, Shawn took a deep breath.

So, the gear in this chest was actually Lightforge!

Every class has its own unique set of armor. These sets present the traits of their respective classes perfectly and enhance their abilities to the fullest—for example, the Arcanist Set for mages, the Vestments of the Devout for priests, and the Bloodfang Set for rogues.

Because these sets are so perfectly aligned with class characteristics, they are widely recognized and highly sought after by high-level professionals. Lightforge is one of them.

This was the first complete set for paladins, consisting of eight parts: pauldrons, chestplate, helm, greaves, boots, gauntlets, belt, and bracers. It shimmered with a golden light, looking incredibly dazzling.

This was a full set of Blue Rare quality gear, all top-tier, with every piece being a rare work of art. The value of the complete set could never be measured by a mere eight hundred gold.

Yet, the middle-aged blacksmith was only asking for eight hundred.

The old blacksmith's expression was somewhat lonely, tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "Consider it for the people of Westfall. You know, I once spent time in Westfall myself. The old blacksmith in Moonbrook used to forge with me, the miners in the Deadmines drank with me, and I left my footprints on every farm; many of the tools there were forged by my own hands..."

But those days were in the past.

The Westfall of today was in chaos, the people were suffering, and bandits were rampant.

And Gryan Stoutmantle was the anchor of Westfall, its backbone, and the hope of the region.

Old Gryan bent down to lift the Lightforge set, a rare look of reverence appearing on his face. He was, after all, a paladin who believed in the Light and justice; how could he suppress the excitement in his heart when seeing this exclusive set meant for his kind?

"You'll need a warhammer or a longsword," the middle-aged blacksmith said. "Which would you prefer?"

Old Gryan stroked the Lightforge set and murmured, "A longsword. I prefer longswords."

The middle-aged blacksmith pulled a two-handed sword from the warehouse and handed it to Gryan. "Truesilver Champion. It is forged entirely from truesilver and mithril, inlaid with rubies, and infused with the breath of the wind. Wielding it, you shall be protected by a holy shield."

Another piece of Blue gear. While perhaps not the absolute peak, it was certainly the finest of the fine. The value of this Truesilver Champion was likely even higher than Shawn's Arcane Saint staff.

Old Gryan set down the Lightforge set and took the Truesilver Champion with both hands, his face filled with excitement. He caressed the sword carefully, appearing to love it dearly. But after a moment, his expression suddenly shifted. He glared at the middle-aged blacksmith and asked with a guarded look, "Say, this two-handed sword is a piece of junk, you aren't going to overcharge me, are you?"

Middle-aged blacksmith: "..."

Shawn: "..."

Blacksmith apprentice: "..."

Shawn never found out the price of that two-handed sword. He simply couldn't stand Gryan Stoutmantle's shamelessness and left before the two could finish haggling.

It was also this time that Shawn gained his first intuitive understanding of the value of high-end gear. Thinking back to his own Dalaran Apprentice Robe and Kobold Shaman Wizard Staff, Shawn could only offer a wry smile.

These two pieces of white common gear didn't seem to be worth much at all...

Afterward, Shawn found Old Saldean to inquire about the prices of leather and stone, and he was left completely speechless. The prices were far beyond his expectations. Leather, in particular, was so expensive that Shawn simply couldn't afford it!

"Looks like I have to go get some good stuff! Portal of Time and Space, here I come!"

This was a vast beach, the fine, soft sand reflecting the sun's rays and looking exceptionally bright. Sand Crawlers raised their sharp claws, scuttling about aggressively. Groups of blue, green, and multicolored murlocs stood in small clusters, spaced far apart from one another.

Murloc Raiders, Murloc Tidehunters, Bluegill Warriors, Darkscale Oracles, Coldlight Seers, Murloc Tidecallers, Coldlight Oracles, Murloc Warleaders...

Well, looking as far as the eye could see, there were no murlocs as high-level as a Murloc Warleader yet.

This was a dungeon called "Murloc Shoal." The completion conditions were unknown, the time limit was 3 hours, and the spatial limit was a circle about 2 meters in diameter on the ground. There were no starter chests and no benefits of any kind.

Shawn stood on the high ground of the shoal, and with a sweep of his Eye of Insight, all the information was laid bare.

"Murloc Tidehunter, Challenge Rating 3."

"Murloc Raider, Challenge Rating 3."

"Bluegill Warrior, Challenge Rating 3."

"Darkscale Oracle, Challenge Rating 3."

"Coldlight Seer, Challenge Rating 4."

"Murloc Tidecaller, Challenge Rating 3."

"Coldlight Oracle, Challenge Rating 5."

Murlocs were a massive race with a long history. There were countless murloc tribes, clans, and social divisions; even the murlocs themselves couldn't count them all.

The rule of the food chain is that the larger the population, the lower they are on the food chain—humans being the exception. The murloc population was vast, but the average Challenge Rating of the race was very low.

Don't be fooled by the murlocs listed above, which all had Challenge Ratings between 3 and 5; those were the combat classes among murlocs, equivalent to human warriors, mages, or paladins. In reality, most ordinary murlocs only had a Challenge Rating of 1, just like an average human.

Those with a Challenge Rating above 3 were only a small minority.