CHAPTER 171: CHAPTER 171: FURNACE TAVERN_1

These books were all explicitly cursed. Most people were sensible enough to avoid trouble, but some novices, hoping to try their luck, would show interest.

However, these individuals didn’t have much money, so pricing the books too high meant the shopkeeper couldn’t fleece them.

Anyway, he was the only one here who would buy these cursed items. One could say that, no matter what, they would most likely end up back in his hands. The money was practically free.

Lance directly picked up and opened two boxes.

One, a book titled *Spiritual Vision*, looked ordinary but emitted a palpable spiritual glow. Picking it up was said to melt one’s eyeballs.

The other, a sheepskin manuscript that threatened to explode, was rolled up and sealed with wax in a metal tube. It was riddled with holes from insects and ants, yet it still exuded a strange aura.

"Count them up. I’ll take them all," Lance said.

Lance also gathered the few books he had selected earlier. After some hard bargaining with the shopkeeper, he managed to lower the price slightly.

However, as he was leaving, the shopkeeper looked at him as if he were a dead man.

Such a reckless novice! It’s obvious he doesn’t have a mentor. I’ve seen too many like him—they encounter Supernatural Power for the first time and immediately think they’re the chosen one.

Lance, however, didn’t react much. He found a place outside, tossed the books into his Exhibition Room, and then started wandering the streets.

Alchemy workshops, Extraordinary Equipment stores, Spiritual Materials shops... Most establishments on the street were related to the Extraordinary. The street vendors also sold similar items, though, of course, some were counterfeit.

Along the way, Lance satisfied his curiosity with all sorts of bizarre items. However, he didn’t make any purchases—firstly, because he wasn’t clear on the specifics, and secondly, because there was no need.

Just as Tamara had said, anything openly displayed wasn’t particularly rare. Truly valuable items wouldn’t be sold this way.

As for finding a hidden gem? Barbecue sounds better, Lance thought.

"Giant Forest Pig, an Extraordinary creature from the Misty Mountains! Eating its meat strengthens the body and enhances physique! Only ten copper coins per pound!" a vendor cried.

Lance spent some money to try the Extraordinary creature’s barbecue. It tasted much like ordinary pork, perhaps even a bit coarser.

From a single pig, all other parts were used to make materials; only the meat and offal were the least valuable. Even so, a pound of this pork cost two to three times as much as beef, making it unaffordable for the average person.

He found the process of creating Spiritual Materials through hunting and gathering somewhat backward. Perhaps there’s an opportunity to try domestication and cultivation for raw materials, he mused.

「As Dusk Fell」

Most workshops closed for the day, and the craftsmen inside emerged one after another from the stifling heat.

Some went in groups directly to taverns for entertainment, seeking to wash away the day’s accumulated fatigue.

「The Furnace Tavern, Near the Workshops」

When Lance arrived, it was just as the proprietor had described: crowded mainly with various craftsmen. If I could somehow bring all these people back to Hamlet, Lance thought, our territory’s technological level would improve dramatically, and equipment production could keep pace with troop mobilization!

Unfortunately, that was highly unlikely. Firstly, these craftsmen were doing well in Totnes; there was no reason for them to go to an undeveloped mountain village to endure hardship.

Secondly, these people were treasures to Totnes. If any problems arose, the supply chain would break, and then they’d see just how much the governor’s cannons hurt.

Moreover, he didn’t have enough money to support so many craftsmen.

Tantalizing, but the prime cut is out of reach; I’ll have to settle for the broth, Lance thought ruefully.

Although no signs prohibited others from entering, Lance’s refined demeanor clearly marked him as a non-craftsman. His entrance attracted quite a few gazes.

And these drunkards, their tongues loosened by alcohol, didn’t hold back. One brawny, thoroughly inebriated man raised his tankard towards Lance and bellowed, "Hey, pretty boy! This ain’t the place for you! Lantern Street is where you should be!"

Beneath the prosperity of Totnes, many people were out and about even at night. Establishments like taverns, casinos, and brothels, specifically catering to nightlife, would keep torches burning at their entrances all night long to attract customers.

To stand out and differentiate themselves from ordinary places, brothels often used flashier and more varied lighting. This made entire streets look as if they were adorned with colorful lanterns, hence the name Lantern Street.

These brothels didn’t only employ women. In a city this large, there were undoubtedly many with unique preferences, including plenty who favored pretty boys.

So, the man’s words were a clear mockery of Lance’s slender build and fair complexion.

Hearing this, Lance wasn’t angry; instead, he was delighted. I’ve been worrying about how to quickly earn enough reputation, and this fellow just presented me with the perfect opportunity!

Without hesitation, he stepped forward and provocatively challenged, "Dare to arm-wrestle me? Loser buys the winner a drink!"

"HA HA HA!"

"This kid’s lost his mind!"

"Teach him a lesson, Winston!"

Lance’s action immediately ignited the tavern. Everyone roared with laughter, relishing the spectacle, and even the craftsmen who hadn’t noticed him before now turned their attention his way.

In an era with so few entertainment options, merely drinking and boasting grew tiresome. So, the craftsman they called Winston, eager for some amusement, didn’t refuse Lance’s challenge.

But he clearly didn’t take Lance seriously. He held up one finger and bragged, "I only need one finger to beat you!"

Soon, a barrel was brought over. Winston flexed his muscular arm, basking in the crowd’s adulation.

Undeterred by the stares and taunts of the onlookers, Lance sat down opposite him and extended his hand.

Seeing the fool actually extend only one finger, Lance didn’t stand on ceremony and immediately started the match.

Winston had expected an easy, overwhelming victory. However, when he exerted force, he found his opponent didn’t budge an inch. On the contrary, excruciating pain shot through his index finger, and his arm bent back uncontrollably. By the time he processed what was happening, he had already lost.

He stood stunned for two seconds before a chill rushed to his brain, sobering him instantly. The onlookers, reacting faster, began to unleash a torrent of vulgarities.

"Damn it, Winston! What are you doing?!"

A cacophony of similar shouts and jeers echoed in his ears, making him shake his head subconsciously. His alcohol-fogged eyes gradually cleared. When he looked again at the man before him, he saw Lance smiling. Whether that smile held mockery or not, Winston found it unbearable.

"I wasn’t using my full strength just now; I was afraid of hurting you," Winston blustered, shaking his head and raising his hand again. "I didn’t expect you, kid, to launch a sneak attack while I wasn’t ready! Let’s go another round!"