Unlocking the Compendium

And on the other side of the bar.

Hakon, drunk and bleary-eyed, casually swept his gaze over the corner.

When he saw Lance sitting there quietly eating meat, an annoyed expression immediately appeared on his face.

He recognized Lance—the guy everyone in this tavern mocked as the "pretty-boy scribe."

"Tch, pretty boy..."

He tilted his head back and gulped down some ale. The sting of alcohol made the image in his mind of that foreign adventurer who had stolen his lover gradually overlap with the clean-cut scribe before him.

And he had just heard that this brat even received Amber's special treatment.

The nameless fire in his heart instantly became impossible to suppress.

Hakon swayed to his feet and, fueled by alcohol, walked straight toward Lance.

Bang!

A dull thud rang out.

Hakon viciously slammed the heavy wooden mug in his hand onto the table in front of Lance. Splashed beer nearly landed in Lance's plate.

"Hey, pretty boy."

Hakon looked down at Lance, reeking of alcohol, his eyes full of provocation.

"These seats are for adventurers. Trash like you, living off women, should get lost."

The surrounding noise instantly quieted, and quite a few people turned to watch with the attitude of spectators enjoying a show.

Lance stopped cutting his meat.

He raised his head, calmly glanced at Hakon, then looked at Amber, who was busy in the distance.

Starting a fight here would bring no benefit. It would only cause trouble for Amber.

Besides, tangling with drunken trash like this would not only lower his dignity, but also make it easy to expose his strength.

"Fine."

Lance did not argue at all. He picked up his plate and silently moved two seats over.

Seeing how "sensible" Lance was, Hakon felt the pent-up frustration in his chest instantly clear.

"HAHAHAHA!"

He let out a piercing laugh and pointed at Lance as he loudly mocked him.

"Look! Everyone, look at this pretty boy! What a spineless little chick!"

Apparently still not satisfied, he even shoved his face close to Lance's, intending to continue humiliating the weak young man.

But in the next instant.

Splash!

A full mug of cold, frothy ale was violently dumped over Hakon's loathsome face.

Hakon's arrogant laughter came to an abrupt stop.

Cold beer dripped from his hair and beard, making him look utterly ridiculous.

"You..."

Hakon was just about to curse when he suddenly shut his mouth.

What greeted him was Amber's furious face.

"Watch your mouth!"

The girl stood with her hands on her hips like a lioness protecting her cub.

Hakon was about to lose his temper and teach this ignorant little brat a lesson.

Just then, a thick hand lifted the half-drawn curtain to the kitchen.

A middle-aged man built like a brown bear stepped out.

He wore an apron stained with grease, and his bare arms were covered in crisscrossing old scars.

He casually leaned against the doorframe, idly twirling a boning knife in his hand as he stared coldly at Hakon.

He did not say a single word.

Yet the oppressive aura of someone who had crawled out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood instantly sobered Hakon up. Cold sweat poured down his back.

This man was a real monster.

The anger Hakon had just worked up was instantly extinguished.

He swallowed and could only wipe his face with his sleeve before turning to leave this troublesome place in disgrace.

"Stop."

Amber's cold voice rang out behind him.

"The drink."

Hakon halted, his expression as ugly as if he had swallowed a fly.

"I... I already paid."

His voice sounded like that of a duck being strangled, full of guilt.

"I mean the mug on your face."

Amber remained expressionless. Her icy gaze was exactly like her father's.

Hakon shook with rage, his fists clenching hard enough to crackle.

But after glancing at the burly man by the kitchen door, who was using the boning knife to clean his nails, he ultimately backed down.

Furiously, he pulled two copper coins from his pocket and slapped them heavily onto the counter.

Then he rushed out of the tavern without looking back.

Lance sat beside them, watching Hakon's silhouette vanish into the night. A nearly imperceptible chill flashed through his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Amber turned around, and the coldness on her face instantly melted as she looked at Lance with concern.

Lance withdrew his gaze and gave her a bright smile, revealing a mouthful of white teeth.

"I'm fine. Just a drunk."

He noticed that, after seeing the matter had been settled, the burly man leaning against the doorframe silently put away his knife and returned to the kitchen.

A true master at hiding his achievements and reputation.

Amber pulled over a barstool and sat directly across from Lance. Resting her chin in both hands, she eagerly began sharing the gossip she had heard today.

This was her own special way of relieving stress.

"Hey, hey, did you know? I heard Aunt Morwenna from the potion shop might be in love lately!"

"Someone saw her getting handsy with an adventurer uncle in the back alley. Ahhh..."

Lance cut his steak while nodding along in agreement.

Usually, after finishing dinner, he would chat with Amber a while longer and enjoy this rare bit of leisure.

But today.

Lance ate noticeably faster than usual.

As soon as he stuffed the last piece of beef into his mouth, he quickly wiped his mouth and placed the money for the meal on the table.

"Amber, I just remembered there's something urgent at home."

Lance rose to his feet apologetically.

"Let's stop talking for today. I'll come back tomorrow to hear the rest."

Before Amber could react, he quickly walked out of the tavern.

Amber watched his hurriedly departing back, her face full of disappointment. The half-finished gossip spilling from her lips got stuck in her throat.

A passing waitress saw the look on her young boss's face, then glanced toward the direction Lance had disappeared.

She could not help muttering softly.

"Scumbag."

In the shadows of the tavern's back alley, the air reeked of nauseating urine.

Hakon hummed an unfamiliar tune as he swayed against the wall, freely relieving the pressure in his bladder.

The cold night wind did not sober him up. Instead, it fanned the wicked fire in his heart.

Amber, that damned brat, had publicly humiliated him in the tavern and cost him money for the drink. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

He had no intention of going home. Instead, he planned to visit the illicit brothel at the edge of town, find a woman, and thoroughly vent the rage in his belly.

With a shudder, Hakon contentedly pulled up his pants.

However.

Just as he fastened his belt, the light above him suddenly dimmed.

A foul-smelling burlap sack dropped over his head without warning like a giant net descending on its prey.

"Who is it?!"

After all, he was an adventurer who had lived with his life on the line. Even drunk, his body's instincts remained.

Hakon roared, his right hand instinctively reaching for his waist to draw the short dagger he kept close.

As long as he had a weapon in hand, he was confident he could stab this foolhardy ambusher straight through.

But he had clearly underestimated his attacker.

Just as his fingers touched the cold hilt, a burst of agonizing pain exploded in his abdomen.

"Ugh!"

Lance did not hold back this punch in the slightest.

He used the force-generating technique of a thrust from Castro Swordsmanship, twisting the strength of his entire body into one force and driving it through Hakon's vulnerable abdominal muscles with his fist.

Hakon felt as though his intestines had nearly been mashed to pieces. His smooth dagger-drawing motion instantly froze, and he bent over like a cooked shrimp.

Lance's gaze was icy, his movements fast as lightning.

Taking advantage of his opponent's stiffness, he grabbed Hakon's wrist and twisted it against the joint. The short dagger immediately fell into his hand.

Then.

Lance drove forward with a fierce thrust.

This was not a simple charge, but an elbow strike derived from shield-bash techniques.

The tremendous impact slammed Hakon hard against the rough stone wall with a dull thud.

The dagger in Lance's hand spun nimbly in his palm, changing from a reverse grip to a forward grip. The hilt whistled through the air and smashed heavily into Hakon's carotid artery.

"Urgh..."

Hakon rolled his eyes. Before he could even beg for mercy, he slid down the wall like a lump of mud.

Plop.

His face landed with perfect accuracy in the warm puddle he had just made.

[The opponent you defeated has a certain degree of local social renown. You have unlocked the Compendium function.]

Watching that disgusting scene, Lance took two steps back in distaste and even shook off his clothes, though they had not picked up any dust.

Goosebumps rose all over him.

If this had been a few months ago, when he had first crossed over, then faced with the provocation of a seasoned thug like this, the powerless him might truly have been forced to swallow his anger and even smile apologetically.

But things were different now.

He had spent day and night swinging swords and drawing bows, building these eight abdominal muscles and calluses across his hands, not to become some coward who hid his head in the sand.

He had backed down in the tavern only because he did not want Amber to get caught up in it.

If there was a grievance, it had to be repaid.

Now, only heaven and earth knew what had happened here.

Only after venting this anger could his thoughts finally settle.

But Lance quickly remembered that, at the exact moment he knocked Hakon down, a special notification seemed to have flashed before his eyes.

The Compendium?