In Knowhere, the bars in the residential district were different from the lower mining zones. There were no sweat-soaked miners and drifters with numb eyes, nor filthy prostitutes who would strip naked and let anyone have their way with them for a meal. Everything here was much more orderly.
Thus, mercenaries, Space Pirates, and shady brokers and dealers who could not afford to live in the upper districts often lingered here.
When Sean first moved into the inn called Devil's Den, he drew plenty of attention. It was not because he looked like a young, well-fed lamb with a bulging wallet, but because, as an Earthling, he stood out far too much.
After all, to most civilized races, Earth was merely some remote place that barely showed up on a star map.
Yet after two days, no one dared deliberately cause trouble for Sean anymore. Or rather, they had all put away their ill intentions.
Because a Space Pirate crew that had loudly declared it would sell this Earth kid to the mining district vanished without a trace the very next day.
Meanwhile, Sean still sat in his usual spot. He threw a burly Kree to the floor with one hand, then calmly drank twenty glasses of Wildfire in a row at the bar without changing expression.
This slender-looking Earthling earned the unanimous admiration of all the mercenaries, because he had fully proven his strength in both physical power and drinking capacity.
During that time, quite a few mercenary groups and Space Pirate fleets extended invitations to Sean.
However, once they learned that Sean owned an independent warship, they all withdrew their offers without prior discussion. Their assessment of the young man rose another level instead.
"Sir, they all say you're an interstellar ranger—the kind of top-tier powerhouse in stories