After obtaining his badge, Orum wove through the crowd and approached Lila's workstation.
"I've got the qualification," he said, flashing the badge on the counter.
"I need you to help me find adventurer teams that are currently recruiting members."
"Congratulations, Mr. Orum.
Let me search for you."
Lila's smile was as flawless as ever, her fingers dancing rapidly behind the partition of her workstation.
A moment later, she provided an answer:
"Currently in waiting status, there's only one adventurer team with openings. They're called Shield of the Mountains."
"The team leader's name is Torred. He's at the quest board area right now."
"Thanks." Orum bid Lila farewell and headed toward the back of the adventurer hall.
The first floor of the adventurer hall was divided into three sections: the office area where Lila worked, the testing center where Charles was stationed, and the quest board where adventurer teams checked available missions.
Typically, when an adventurer party wanted more detailed mission information or the latest quest updates, they'd come to the quest board to look things over carefully.
Twelve massive wooden quest boards stood side by side.
To accommodate adventurers of different heights and races, they were deliberately arranged in high, middle, and low tiers, densely covered with parchment commissions pinned all over them.
Staff members constantly moved between the boards, removing expired commissions and posting new assignments.
Next to the quest boards sat four rows of long tables and benches for adventurers whose eyes had glazed over to rest.
There was even complimentary tea provided nearby, showing just how user-friendly the modern adventurer hall had become.
Orum recalled that Lila had once mentioned the adventurer hall's predecessor was a kingdom's military organization called the "Demon Hunter Guild."
That was over a thousand years ago, when countless demon tides ravaged the land and the entire kingdom was torn apart, with lives lost everywhere.
When the kingdom was on the brink of collapse and ruin, the bravest warriors of the "Demon Hunter Guild" gathered together.
Disregarding their own lives, they charged forward one after another to hunt demons, using the bones and blood of countless heroes to build civilization's final line of defense.
Now, a thousand years later, the present-day adventurer hall was clean and orderly.
Many resting adventurers were even enjoying snacks, showing no trace of the organization's once dark and bloody character.
Orum scanned the quest center. About seventy or eighty people were here, the vast majority human.
Intelligent races like dwarves only made up about twenty percent.
Browsing quest information was usually left to the team's leader and strategist.
Those standing before the quest boards now, meticulously checking mission details, were mostly this type of person.
Meanwhile, those sitting on the benches slacking off, or who'd disappeared somewhere in town to drink, were typically regular team members.
They worked when there was work, and slacked off when there wasn't.
Based on the physical description Lila had provided, Orum's eyes quickly locked onto a man standing before one of the quest boards: Torred.
Torred appeared to be in his thirties, with neat short hair and a face that gave off a solid, steady impression.
His broad shoulders and the heavy shield on his back only reinforced this quality.
Orum recalled that Torred was also a "quasi-professional." His goal was to become a Shield Guard, and his primary weapons were a shield and short sword.
Orum stepped forward and spoke: "Excuse me, are you Torred, leader of 'Shield of the Mountains'?"
He continued with his introduction: "My name is Orum. I'd like to join your team."
Torred turned around and looked at Orum. His gaze swept over Orum's young face, and hesitation immediately showed in his expression.
Orum keenly picked up on this and promptly produced his matte silver badge, smiling at Torred: "I'm also a quasi-professional. I've mastered a combat technique."
"A combat technique? How old are you?" Torred asked in surprise.
"Just turned eighteen," Orum answered casually.
Torred took the matte silver "Sprite Knight" badge. The texture under his fingers and the emblem on it couldn't be faked.
When he raised his head and looked at Orum again, his expression had changed: "You really are a quasi-professional."
Torred handed the badge back to Orum and said seriously, "Could you let me see your combat technique? I need to confirm whether your abilities suit our team."
Orum furrowed his brow. From Torred's overly cautious attitude, he sensed something was off.
For a normal bottom-tier adventurer team, the addition of a "quasi-professional" should be a powerful boost no matter what.
Even if they didn't welcome him warmly, he should at least receive special consideration, not be picked over like cabbage and face recruitment difficulties.
Following Torred's backward glance, Orum saw several figures resting on the benches, apparently Torred's teammates.
Among them was a young red-haired female swordsman with her arms crossed, looking this way with distinctly unfriendly eyes.
After a moment's thought, Orum understood where this woman's hostility came from.
Since Orum carried a snow-patterned steel sword and was also a swordsman who used longswords, she probably worried he'd encroach on her position in the team after joining.
That's why she didn't want to see Orum enter the party.
"Though maybe I'm reading too much into it. What if she's not that petty?"
Orum collected his thoughts and answered Torred straightforwardly: "Sure."
Drawing his sword from its sheath, Orum held it in his right hand, adopting a thrusting stance, standing perfectly still.
"This is..." Torred looked at Orum's posture, his face instantly turning somewhat pale.
Because he saw that the snow-patterned steel sword slowly emerging from its sheath, held in Orum's hand, remained absolutely motionless, solid as bedrock.
Everyone knows that the human body is constantly in motion. Lungs breathe, hearts beat, blood flows, arm muscles contract and relax slightly, none of which can be avoided.
Yet Orum could somehow, while holding his sword in a frozen stance, keep the snow-patterned steel blade from trembling even slightly.
Absolutely calm, like a deep pool or towering mountain.
Seeing this stance, this absolute control over strength, Torred had only witnessed it in his master.
Torred's heart raced: "Could it be... impossible. He's so young, how could he have mastered a proficient-level combat technique?"
At this moment, in the quest center, Orum's action of drawing his longsword had attracted quite a few eyes from the surrounding area.
The nearby adventurers voiced their confusion.
What was this young, handsome kid trying to do? Draw his sword and commit violence in the adventurer hall?
Some thought Orum was about to duel Torred and immediately began egging them on from the sidelines: "Fight, fight!"
"I've been annoyed with Torred for a while now. Why does his team get two beautiful women? Damn it!"
"Kid, steal all the beauties. I'm rooting for you!"
Hearing the increasingly outrageous rumors from the surrounding adventurers, Torred had no mind to argue.
Right now, all his attention was locked onto the snow-patterned steel sword in Orum's hand.
After over ten years as an adventurer, Torred had been through countless battles, hovering between life and death so many times that he'd developed a sense of danger far beyond ordinary people.
And at this moment, that instinct was frantically sounding alarms. Orum, standing two meters away, was extremely dangerous!
This strike could even directly take his life!
Although reason told Torred that Orum wasn't some crazed murderer who'd kill someone here, the needle-like sensation all over his body still made his hair stand on end!
In this moment, Torred just wanted to bring the shield on his back to his front as fast as possible.
But he couldn't!
Because Torred clearly felt that Orum's strike was several times faster than his own speed, perhaps even ten times faster!
Meeting Orum's gaze, Torred felt like he'd fallen into an ice cellar.
"Such cold, murderous eyes, as if he's merely looking at a lifeless object. He's a born killer."
"Is this guy really only eighteen?"
A bead of cold sweat dripped from his chin. Torred now somewhat regretted asking Orum to demonstrate his combat technique...
Even if he had to demonstrate, they should've backed up to ten meters away before starting!
All around, the adventurers' voices remained noisy.
Torred's regret had just flashed through his mind when Orum's frozen figure moved.
His form suddenly blurred, and a brilliant sword flash burst forth like lightning. That extreme speed caused the entire hall's clamor to pause.
Torred's thoughts went blank for an instant. When he regained his senses, a bone-chilling cold had already swept past his cheek.
Torred slowly turned his stiff neck and saw the tip of the snow-patterned steel sword hovering silently beside him, less than a foot away.
"It's... a proficient-level combat technique." Torred's face was pale, his lips moving to produce a faint murmur.
As one of the bravest Shield Guards, his legs now betrayed him, going weak beyond his control, and he collapsed heavily to his knees.
"Maybe that was a bit much." Looking at the dumbstruck adventurers and Torred kneeling beside him, gasping for breath, Orum began to reconsider.
Perhaps he should just... hire a few adventurers with money to form a team instead.
...
What happened next was both beyond Orum's expectations and yet somehow exactly what he'd anticipated.
"Sorry, I need to discuss this with my teammates."
After witnessing that soul-shaking strike, Torred forced himself to stand and left this sentence before hurrying toward the benches.
Only then did Orum see the complete lineup of Torred's team:
Besides team leader Shield Guard Torred, there was a lean male archer, the obviously hostile red-haired female swordsman from before, and a somewhat timid-looking female priest.
At the moment, they were engaged in a heated argument.
"I absolutely disagree! Our team needs a rogue. He's a swordsman, and we don't need another swordsman at all."
The red-haired female swordsman spoke bluntly.
"But he's an adventurer with a proficient-level combat technique. His strength is undeniable." Torred's voice conveyed powerlessness.
Seeing Torred still hesitating, the female swordsman grew more anxious, her voice suddenly rising, refusing to back down: "How many times do I have to say it?
The team doesn't need extra frontliners. Do you want to see three people crowding around a monster, fumbling with their swords?"
As the female swordsman spoke, she shot a glance at the female priest beside her, who held a staff.
The female priest immediately caught on and added quietly, "I also think... it's not quite suitable. Besides, that person's eyes are terrifying, so cold.
He feels like a murderer... I don't want to be on the same team as someone like that."
"Anna, you're still too young. How can you judge whether someone's good or bad just by their eyes?" Torred tried to argue back, but his tone was clearly weakening.
Orum could already see that although Torred was nominally the leader of the adventurer team, he was actually weak-willed and indecisive, basically having no decision-making power within the team.
"Forget it. I don't want to stay in a trash heap of a team like this anyway."
Looking at the red-haired swordsman still making unreasonable arguments, along with her best friend the priest, Orum's gaze turned slightly cold.
"Torred, your teammates don't seem to welcome me. I'll go find another team."
Orum patted Torred on the shoulder as a greeting. Without sparing another glance at the red-haired female swordsman, whose face had turned iron-blue and who seemed about to explode again, he turned to leave.
Just as Orum was about to walk out directly, he suddenly felt the surrounding light dim.
Orum looked up, his pupils contracting sharply.
It was a figure standing two and a half meters tall, massive as an iron tower, now positioned before Orum.
This was a half-orc warrior clad in heavy armor, fully armed. His physique was so tall and imposing that he actually blocked the light shining toward Orum!
Just standing there, he was like a silent steel fortress, bringing a suffocating sense of oppression.
Orum had never seen a half-orc of such towering stature. Compared to him, Gal, also a half-orc, was practically as small as a child!
As for Steelton? He'd probably have to stand on his tiptoes just to reach this guy's feet!
"Mr. Orum."
From beneath the cold steel faceplate came a voice like rolling thunder, deep and heavy, making eardrums buzz.
"I am the deputy leader of the 'Ice Hawk' adventurer group, Raygore."
"I'd like to invite you to join Ice Hawk."
"Ice Hawk adventurer group?" Hearing this name, Orum froze.
An adventurer group was a higher-level organization than an adventurer team, with greater privileges than adventure parties and a member capacity of up to twenty people.
Since registering an adventurer group required paying a registration fee of 100 gold coins and an annual maintenance fee of 50 gold coins, only veteran adventurers with considerable strength would choose to form an adventurer group.
And Ice Hawk was one of the top ten adventurer groups excluding professionals, quite famous in Blackwater Town.
Such an ace team was actually extending an invitation to him?!
Although it was surprising, perhaps because his mood had been soured by the petty people earlier, Orum didn't feel particularly thrilled at the moment.
Orum thought for a moment and asked, "When I checked earlier, Ice Hawk didn't seem to have a recruitment notice posted."
"That's because Ice Hawk's admission requirements are very high.
We only accept the most elite and talented adventurers."
Raygore said, "I can tell that what you used just now was a proficient-level combat technique.
You're a young and powerful warrior who meets our leader's standards."
"If you're willing, I'll introduce you to the group leader tonight.
Once you officially join, you'll receive substantial resource investment, genuine respect from others, and the supreme glory that belongs to victors."
"And... several powerful comrades to whom you can entrust your back."
As his words fell, Raygore struck his armored giant fist heavily against his own chest with a dull "thump," as if making a solemn oath.
Feeling that burning gaze transmitted through the faceplate, Orum instantly understood this half-orc's character:
Raygore was a bold warrior who revered strength and directness.
This type of person most appreciated being straightforward and decisive.
Any unnecessary probing or pleasantries would only be an insult.
With this in mind, Orum didn't beat around the bush and agreed directly: "Alright, I'll go with you to meet the leader. Where is he?"
Raygore replied in a deep voice, "My leader's name is Felix. He's staying at the Dragonheart Emerald Inn.
I'll wait for you at the inn entrance tonight."
"Dragonheart Emerald Inn?" Orum sucked in a breath.
Orum had heard of this large inn called Dragonheart Emerald. It was the most luxurious inn in Blackwater Town.
Even the cheapest room cost more than five times what the Oak Inn charged.
"Worthy of someone who can lead an adventurer group into the top ten. This isn't just your average rich guy!"
Orum guessed that this Felix must be a wealthy noble's son.
Perhaps even the type of major kingdom noble who could throw around thousands of gold coins with a flick of his finger!
Of course, even without this deep background, Orum would still choose to join Ice Hawk.
Because the half-orc warrior Raygore before him was clearly a powerful warrior not easily encountered.
Whatever team he'd joined certainly wouldn't be weak.
For a very simple reason: tigers don't run with sheep. Powerful adventurers are likewise surrounded by other powerful adventurers.