A legend that countless aspiring hunters look up to!
A demon hunter who is famous even in the whole world, a legendary hunter with a professional level 7!
Old Devil!
Black!
The hunters of Kodiak, of course, would show them the respect they deserved.
If you don't do this, I'm sorry, you will be kicked out of the circle for disrespecting a hunter legend, a legendary hunter who brought honor to Kodiak.
At this moment, Su Wei deeply felt the reputation of his teacher in the Kodiak hunter community.
This is the hunter world—where strength speaks for itself!
Su Wei followed behind Black, his steps steady.
Aruk and Old Kash stood guard on either side of the flanks.
The four people walked through the crowded hall and headed towards the bar at the far end.
The air was so thick it made it hard to breathe.
Although the surrounding hunters made way, their sharp eyes remained fixed on Su Wei.
In this circle where seniority, lineage, and wildness determine hierarchy, Su Wei's young, clean-cut, and unfamiliar Asian face stands out as an outsider.
"Hey, Black."
A burly man with a full beard raised his beer mug, trying to strike up a conversation. He had one foot on the chair, giving him a sleazy look.
"I heard you took your new apprentice to the north Pillar Mountain? You didn't come back empty-handed, only to be chilled to the bone?"
His tone was tentative, but more so it was malicious, as if he wanted to see the joke made.
He was the one who wanted to earn a referral fee by recommending wealthy individuals to Black.
Black didn't even turn his head, nor did he lift his eyelids.
He walked straight to the bar, his heavy military boots clattering loudly on the brass footstool beneath, making the peanut shells on the table vibrate.
The burly man with the thick beard awkwardly held up his cup, his smile frozen on his face.
A few suppressed snickers came from the surrounding area, it was unclear whether they were laughing at Black's arrogance or at the big man's foolishness.
Aruk walked behind, and deliberately paused as he passed the bearded man.
He winked at the burly man, his face flushed red—a distorted expression of extreme excitement being forcibly suppressed.
He really wanted to yell at the bearded man and tell him to go check the doorway.
But he remembered Su Wei and Black's instructions.
This made him swallow back the boast that was on the tip of his tongue, almost causing him internal injury, and he could only let out a strange groan.
"The usual."
Black tapped his calloused hand on the bar counter, which was worn white by countless glasses, making a soft, resonant sound.
A one-eyed man was standing behind the bar.
His remaining right eye was cloudy and murky, yet it revealed a shrewdness that seemed to have seen through the ways of the world.
His face was crisscrossed with several horrific scars, stretching from his forehead to his chin. These were said to be medals he earned in his youth from close combat with cougars, and each scar held a story.
The one-eyed bartender didn't say anything, but turned around and took a square glass bottle of whiskey without any label from the shelf behind him.
The brown liquor swirls in four square-mouthed glasses, creating amber-colored bubbles.
There was no ice.
Drinking whiskey on the rocks here would get you mocked by these rude men as either a sissy who hasn't been weaned yet, or a tourist from the city.
Black picked up his glass, but didn't drink it.
He pulled a crumpled, warm hundred-dollar bill from his pocket, placed it under the damp glass, and gently pushed it towards the bartender.
"Get those brats who're still playing pool out of here."
Black's voice was soft, hoarse, and rough.
But in a quiet tavern, those words carry weight.
The one-eyed bartender glanced at the Franklin portrait, then at Black's expressionless face, and finally his gaze lingered on Su Wei for two seconds, past Black.
That look in his eyes was very complex.
"Just unloading?"
"I can't breathe," the bartender asked in a low voice.
"Discharge."
Black said it in a flat tone, as if he were talking about unloading a bag of potatoes.
"Move it to the trading room at the back. That's Su Wei's prey. Tell them to be careful not to get that fine hide dirty."
The bartender raised an eyebrow, pocketed the money, grabbed a dusty rag, and waved it at the group of young hunters at the pool table.
"Hey, you guys over there. Stop fiddling with your firewood sticks."
The bartender pointed to the door.
"Everyone get out there and help. Black's truck is right outside. Unload the goods."
The young people reluctantly stopped what they were doing.
They were also amateur hunters registered with the guild, although they weren't qualified to take on big jobs worth thousands of dollars.
But he's considered a member of the local circle, and he's usually quite arrogant.
To make them porters is an insult.
"On what grounds?"
A young man wearing a denim jacket with a fur collar threw his cue onto the table with a loud thud.
" Harry, we're here to drink, not to do manual labor for this old man. He's got hands, isn't he?"
One hundred US dollars.
Black didn't turn around; he simply raised his glass and let the spicy liquor moisten his lips.
"Everyone."
For a split second, the air seemed to freeze.
The young men's expressions changed instantly.
One hundred US dollars?
Just moving a few pieces of meat?
This is like a windfall.
You know, in this damn winter, ordinary dockworkers only get this much for a whole day of freezing temperatures at the docks.
"You should have said so earlier."
The man in the denim jacket immediately put on a smiling face and called out to his companions.
"Come on, come on, let's lend Master Black a hand, it's our honor. Don't just stand there."
The group of people shoved and jostled each other as they walked towards the door, muttering filthy curses under their breath.
"Probably just a few more black-tailed deer. They're the only kind of deer that's plentiful this time of year."
"Or maybe two reindeer? Those things are so heavy, I hope they don't get my new boots dirty."
"What can that Asian kid possibly do? I don't believe he can fire a gun. He's probably scared out of his wits, hahaha."
As their laughter and complaints faded into the doorway, the heavy oak door closed again.
The atmosphere in the tavern eased a little.
The other hunters were still glancing at the scene out of the corner of their eyes, but the tense atmosphere had lessened considerably.
People began to raise their glasses again, talking in hushed tones, mostly about the lucky Asian apprentice.
Su Wei raised his wine glass.
The fiery liquor burned down my throat, spreading a warm sensation in my stomach.
Feels good.
He had been battling in the blizzard all day and was completely exhausted. This sip of liquor was like injecting high-octane fuel into a dried-up gas tank, reviving him completely.
Aren't you nervous?
Old Kash sat next to Su Wei, lowered his voice and asked a question, his old eyes narrowed, revealing a hint of cunning.
What's there to be nervous about?
Su Wei put down his wine glass, his fingertips tracing the rough edge of the glass, feeling the lingering warmth.
"They're the ones who should be worried."
Old Kash paused for a moment, then grinned, his wrinkles crinkling together.