Chapter 46: Interlude 1

I frowned, my dark eyes sizing up the man before me, his demeanor unfriendly and reeking of alcohol.

I knew well that alcohol could impair parts of the human brain, leading to impulsive and irrational actions.

Though I had only recently transmigrated to this world and my strength wasn’t particularly formidable,

I was prepared to handle any potential offense from a stranger.

I instinctively assessed our comparative combat capabilities.

“Hm… heavily intoxicated, unlikely to be feigning.”

“Unsteady footing—whether retreating or attacking, I can exploit this.”

“Against a humanoid enemy, the beheading longsword is more suitable, but its length might be cumbersome at this close range. I’d need to create distance first.”

“Judging by his build and attire…”

Meanwhile, Chapton, watching the two of us fall into an eerie silence, felt a growing sense of unease.

He recognized the drunken man.

Bernie, the town’s notorious drunkard.

A legitimate adventurer living off mission bounties, yet he spent nearly every moment in River Valley Town’s taverns.

Only when he was completely broke would he join his old team for a mission or two, earning just enough for more drinks before lingering in town again.

His behavior when drunk was deplorable.

In the mere half-year since arriving in River Valley Town, Chapton’s White Sparrow Tavern had already thrown out the inebriated, troublemaking Bernie three times.

He was only spared the blacklist because, when sober, he was a decent enough fellow.

As for the black-haired youth…

Chapton suddenly noticed the young man had slightly crouched, clearly poised for combat, his hand subtly raised, ready to grip his sword hilt.

“No need, no need.”

Behind them, two middle-aged men dressed as adventurers hurried forward.

They grabbed Bernie, who seemed moments from passing out, and offered an awkward smile:

“Sorry, he’s had too much. We were caught up in the excitement and didn’t keep an eye on him.”

Turning to Chapton behind the bar, one slapped his chest and declared:

“This friend’s tab tonight is on me.”

Then, after a few apologies to me, they dragged Bernie back to their seats.

It wasn’t because they recognized my strength.

These seasoned low-tier adventurers might, during a mission, betray a close companion over a priceless piece of equipment.

But that was because the reward outweighed the cost.

Having survived countless missions, they weren’t fools who let emotions drive their actions recklessly.

A trivial matter that could be avoided with a gesture, only to gain an enemy of unknown background and strength?

Only an idiot would choose that.

As peers, who knew when or where they might cross paths again, or in what state they’d be?

With two companions present, Bernie naturally wouldn’t clash with me.

Of course, assuming these were “good people” because of this would be a grave mistake.

If a prize great enough to sway their morals appeared, they’d act faster than a blink.

The anticipated drama didn’t unfold, and the tavern’s minor interlude ended.

Though surprised, I didn’t dwell on it.

With someone offering to pay, I went along with it.

“One number three combo,” I said to the tavern owner.

After days of eating dry rations in the forest, I was at my limit.

No exaggeration—one night, I even dreamed of returning to my previous life, gorging at a favorite restaurant.

Now that the mission was over, I had to treat myself.

The timing was inconvenient, with most shops on the street closed, leaving no place to process my spoils.

Otherwise, per the [Adventurer’s Handbook], running through the shops would take half a day.

Sizzle—

Steam rose, the aroma of food flooding my nose with each breath.

The usual stewed meat, mushroom soup, and white bread combo.

I soaked the bread in the soup’s broth.

One bite.

“Tch.”

The soft dough melted into a creamy fragrance in my mouth, blending with the sweet, savory mushroom soup as I swallowed.

I squinted, savoring the moment.

“This is the life.”

I sighed inwardly.

Meanwhile, Chapton placed a glass of what looked like an expensive drink before me.

“On the house from White Sparrow.”

Puzzled, I met his gaze.

“Thanks.”

No reason to refuse, I nodded in gratitude.

The glass clinked on the table, the clear liquor gently swaying.

As I ate, my thoughts wandered, my eyes slightly unfocused.

I arrived back in River Valley Town late, with no place to process my spoils, so I planned to rest at the White Sparrow for the night.

The bandages wrapping the “Qingsong” wooden sword were to avoid drawing attention to its uniqueness.

I’d keep an eye out over the next few days and, when the chance arose, have a sheath custom-made at a blacksmith, which should be more convenient.

The liquor burned my tongue as it went down.

Yet my body showed no reaction.

I guessed it was my current Constitution of “8” at work.

Before, just the 1 Strength and 1 Agility from maxing [Whirlwind Slash] made me feel like I had a new body, my combat ability soaring.

Now, the 3 Constitution points from the dewdrop were no small boost.

After a full day’s trek, even Wood, a professional, was panting by the end.

Yet I felt effortless, as if I’d merely taken a stroll.

Though part of it was the dewdrop restoring my stamina from the journey, it still proved my newfound endurance.

On another note, though not as tangible as a game’s skyrocketing health bar, the Constitution boost meant I could withstand more damage in combat.

Though untested, I was confident I could now use [Whirlwind Slash] multiple times in quick succession without affecting my body.

Gone were the days when a few extra swings left my arms sore.

More subtly, higher Constitution meant greater resilience to impacts.

If I were to return to the Mist Forest now and let that petrifying lizard hit me from behind again…

I shivered, a faint ache in my back.

“I wouldn’t die, but let’s not.”

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