600 Dragons

The entrance to Dragon Cliff Dungeon was less a "gate" than a hideous wound torn into the earth.

It lay at the end of a wasteland carved into ravines by year-round corrosive acid rain: a pit more than three hundred meters across, its edges jagged, its mouth perpetually shrouded in a thin gray mist that never dispersed.

At that moment, a Demon Race party of a dozen or so had gathered at the edge of the pit.

They wore worn but practical armor and carried all manner of weapons, from heavy battle-axes to poison-tempered hand crossbows. In every pair of eyes, wariness mingled with greed and nerves.

They were a typical Empire adventuring team, drawn here by the Dragon Beast materials unique to Dragon Cliff Dungeon.

The Empire's officials were forbidden from entering Dragon Cliff Dungeon, and unofficial organizations or individuals would also be restricted once they reached a certain scale or level of strength.

But for ordinary Adventurers, there were no real restrictions.

In other words, this was a dungeon where no experts came to fight over resources.

As Linden put it, "It's just like one of those secret realms in the cultivation world."

Ordinary Adventurers might not be able to fight their way up to the dragon cliff within Dragon Cliff Dungeon, but the materials produced by the Dragon Beasts on the lower wilderness alone were enough to feed these Adventurers.

Of course, if misfortune struck and they died in an accident, these Adventurers could also feed the Dragon Beasts.

"Check your gear! Are the ropes secure?" The one who spoke was a Horned Demon with a savage scar on his face, his voice rough and hoarse.

His name was Gore, and he was the leader of this squad.

A Demon Descendant gave a hard tug on the