Translator: CinderTL
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Clement shivered, the first to react.
He saw the white-haired woman's raised hand pause mid-air, a flicker of hesitation crossing her delicate face before she lowered her hand.
But then she lifted her leg and kicked the drunk square in the stomach.
The woman was wearing leather boots, and the hard heel sank deep into the drunk's soft belly, as if it had been driven in.
The drunk's body curled up like a shrimp, and he flew backward, crashing into a supporting pillar in the tavern with a loud clang.
He scrambled to his feet, furious and ready to retaliate, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he vomited all over the floor. The stench of alcohol and vomit filled the air, causing nearby patrons to cover their noses and mouths.
"You bitch, you're really asking for it!" the drunk roared, his eyes bulging with anger, his muscles tensing.
He took a step forward, charging toward the white-haired woman.
The woman remained calm, gently tracing a circular motion in the air with her slender hand.
With a clatter, the drunk's foot slipped, and the large man lost his balance, falling face-first onto the floor with a heavy thud.
"Ahahahaha!" His battered appearance sparked uproarious laughter from the tavern's patrons.
"Huh?" Clement, who was closer, found it strange. He thought he saw something white flash under the drunk's foot—like a layer of frost—but it disappeared almost instantly.
How could there be frost on the floor? Was he seeing things?
The drunk struggled to his feet again. Humiliated in front of everyone and having fallen hard, his face was now as red as a ripe apple.
"Ahhhhh!" the drunk bellowed like a wild beast, his anger reaching a boiling point. He wanted to tear the white-haired woman to pieces.
But before he could act, a figure flashed before him, and he felt something cold press against his neck.
The white-haired woman was now standing behind him, a cold dagger pressed tightly against his throat.
Feeling something wet drip onto his chest, the drunk instinctively wiped it and saw his hand covered in red. He was terrified.
"Blood! Ahhh, I'm bleeding!"
"Let him go!" The drunk's companions, who had been enjoying the spectacle, finally sprang into action, surrounding the woman.
Seeing the situation escalating out of control, Clement shouted, "Enough! Or I'll call the police!"
At the mention of the police, the drunk's companions hesitated, stopping in their tracks.
But the white-haired woman wasn't done. She kicked the back of the drunk's knee, forcing him to kneel. The pressure on his back kept him from standing—she had her foot firmly planted on him.
He didn't dare resist; the cold dagger pressed against the back of his neck made it clear that any movement could be fatal.
Clement was once again amazed. The woman's dagger was crystal clear, as if made of glass. Could something like that even be sharpened?
In fact, no one in the tavern had seen how the white-haired woman had drawn her weapon. It was as if the dagger had simply appeared in her hand.
"Please, stop!" Clement hurriedly intervened, not wanting a murder in his tavern. "This idiot has been punished enough! Let him go this time!"
"Waaah! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Faced with the threat of death, the drunk was completely sobered up, begging for mercy. He deeply regretted his earlier stupidity, blaming it on the alcohol and the stupid bet his friends had made.
"This idiot was just drunk, he wasn't thinking straight!"
"Beautiful lady... no, miss, do you want money? We'll compensate you!"
His companions also hurriedly apologized.
Clement continued to persuade her, "Miss, our laws here are strict. Unlike other territories, private fights aren't allowed. If you're still angry, you can take him to the lord's court! If you kill him, even as an adventurer, you won't be able to leave Alden!"
"Hmph!" The tavern owner's words seemed to have an effect. The woman let out a disgusted snort and kicked the kneeling drunk, sending him rolling across the floor.
His companions quickly rushed to help him up, dragging him out of the tavern in disgrace. The drunk's neck was still bleeding, and they needed to find a doctor immediately.
The woman picked up her cloak, the hood once again hiding her cold, beautiful face.
"Oh!" The patrons let out a sigh of regret, disappointed that the show was over, and went back to their drinks.
No one would dare to harass this woman again.
"Hehehe, thank you, kind lady!" Clement put on a flattering smile.
Not only was she agile, but she was also incredibly strong! The tavern owner marveled inwardly. The drunk had been a burly man, probably over two hundred pounds, yet she had kicked him around like a ball.
He better not anger her.
Cautiously, he asked, "Are you an adventurer?"
The woman nodded slowly.
"No wonder you're so skilled!"
Clement pulled out a thick ledger from under the counter. "You mentioned you wanted a room, right? Could you tell me your name? We require registration for guests staying here."
The woman hesitated for a moment before softly saying a name.
"Coleridge."
"Ah, Miss Coleridge!" Clement quickly wrote down the name in the ledger, carefully noting her gender and appearance.
The tavern owner then asked, "Is this your first time in Alden?"
The woman, who called herself Coleridge, frowned impatiently but still answered, "Yes."
"Then I must remind you, outsiders who plan to stay in Alden for a long time need to register with the police. They'll give you a small card as proof. Don't forget. Hehe, we're a bit strict here, sorry about that."
Clement handed her a key. "Room six, on the second floor. I hope you have a pleasant rest. Oh, by the way, would you like something to eat?"
"No!"
Coleridge headed toward the stairs but suddenly stopped and turned back. "Have you seen a man named Alvey? He's around fifty, about six feet tall, with a long white beard, wearing a white robe. He should be in Alden right now."
"Hmm..." Clement thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't think I've seen anyone matching that description. What's his relation to you? What does he do?"
Coleridge replied, "He's my teacher, a very knowledgeable scholar."
"A scholar?" Clement smiled, as if he had a clue.
"Could he be here for the Natural Science Forum?"
(End of the Chapter)
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