That's right, that's what adventure is like!

The feeling of entering the secret realm was very strange.

It's like stretching and shrinking every cell in your body infinitely, and then repeating this process over and over again, during which your consciousness is only a vague chaos.

when--

A piercing metallic clang rang in his ears, causing Roland to instinctively grip the hilt of his sword. The warm, smooth feel instantly brought everything back to normal.

My first impression was that it was hot.

The air was thick with the smell of sulfur, and the scorching air currents kept moving through, causing the lining of the leather armor to quickly become soaked with sweat and stick sticky to the skin.

Then came the light.

The orange flames illuminated the surroundings, dispelling all shadows and opening up a clear view, allowing Roland to see his surroundings clearly.

This is a sealed room with a half-person-high black iron forging table in the center. Three furnaces cast from silver-gray metal stand beside it, radiating an unsettling heat.

The surrounding walls have been carved into stacked stone shelves, neatly displaying hundreds of hammers of different styles and uses, which have been used over the years, judging from their wear and tear.

In the corner of the room, there was an extremely large gray-black ore. Three or five small hammers covered with runes automatically swung and struck it, splashing out brilliant sparks.

It looks like a dwarven forge.

"There are no finished products or rare materials," Yog's voice came from behind Roland, giving the adventurer the answer he was most concerned about. "It seems all the finished products have been taken away."

Roland turned around, his gaze lingering for a moment on the hammer swinging automatically in mid-air, before finally settling on the open metal door not far away.

In a corner there, there remained a tiny, barely perceptible fragment of a blue leaf.

The guidance of the half-elf.

"Ready for battle."

Roland drew his weapon, the flames from the boiling furnace reflecting off the silver-gray blade, casting his cold face in orange light.

Step forward, be on guard, observe.

Yogurt followed closely behind.

If Torg were present, Roland would not hesitate to have him walk in front and act as a human shield.

But Yog was different. His development path had completely shifted towards that of a wandering knight. He carried a double-edged axe at his waist as a secondary weapon, and in his hand was a five-foot-long hardwood bow.

Judging from the extremely thick and wide bow arm, and the animal sinew bowstring as thick as a little finger, it was undoubtedly designed for an extremely violent penetrating attack.

Combined with the already robust physique of an orc, Yogur now truly resembles the ancient archer Roland remembered.

For teammates like this, creating space for them to deal damage is the best approach.

Outside the door was not the long corridor one had imagined, but another room with a layout very similar to the previous forging room. The furnace was also blazing with flames, and the hammer was also automatically pounding the ore.

The same room appeared five times in a row.

Just when Roland began to doubt whether he had fallen under a hallucinogenic spell, the situation finally changed.

The sound came from the gaps in the metal door that was not yet fully closed, mixed with the unique echoes of the open space.

"You sons of orcs, there's absolutely nothing here!"

His voice was narrow and sharp; it belonged to that wanderer.

Roland slowed his pace and crouched down to peek inside through the crack in the door.

It was a spacious metal hall, with curved walls and a dome cast from black ore that blended seamlessly into the surface, smooth and flat, like the interior of a hollowed-out mountain.

The entire hall was oval-shaped, and the walls were covered with metal doors similar to those in front of Roland, which seemed to connect to the other forging rooms.

Meanwhile, the Silverfly Squad was standing in front of a locked metal door, which the wanderer was trying to unlock.

Clang!

Like disappointment, or anger at failing to unlock the door, the wanderer kicked the metal door hard, then turned around and glared at Madame Barlow, who was leaning against the wall, with a sinister look.

Then, in a shrill voice, he rebuked, "This is your promise?! It's clearly nothing at all!!"

The shouts echoed through the empty hall. Roland noticed that the half-elf turned slightly to the side and flicked his fingers on the bowstring, making a gesture common among adventurers.

—80%.

Faced with the wanderers' angry curses, Madame Barlow remained unusually calm. She straightened her silk robes and replied with a cold laugh, "Promise? My promise was that everything in this secret realm would belong to you, but I made no promise about what's here."

"You bitch..."

"Shut up!"

Just as the vagrant was about to step forward and teach Mrs. Barlow a lesson, the bald, burly man raised his axe to stop him, turning around with a twisted smile: "Madam, business must be fair. Look, we've gone to great lengths to get you here..."

"That's your problem!"

Madame Barlow interrupted, "Don't think I don't know. You couldn't make it with adventurers elsewhere, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"Furthermore, our transaction wasn't conducted through the association's channels, and there was no signed contract. So what if I cheated you?"

The bald man's smug attitude instantly ignited his suppressed anger. He gave a barely perceptible wink, and the restless wanderers, who had been unable to contain themselves, darted out in an instant.

puff-

The head flew off, spraying a spray of blood in the air. After bouncing a few times on the ground, it rolled and left a long trail of blood before coming to rest in the center of the hall.

Ms. Barlow is dead.

Before she died, a look of surprise remained on her face, as if she hadn't yet uttered her last words or given her next condition for exchange.

"Pooh!"

The wanderer spat on her head, his face full of disgust, and then turned to search her still-warm body.

"snort……"

The bald man took two steps forward, kicked his head against the wall, and watched it bounce back to his feet, sneering, "Don't think I don't know your scheme. You're just convinced we don't know how to leave the secret realm."

"Trying to blackmail us again with this? Think carefully, you're not even fit to work as a prostitute!"

"Emmett, bring out that thing. Although there's not much to take away from this secret realm, the way to open it can fetch a good price. Some nobles enjoy the thrill of having a secret realm to themselves."

The half-elf named Emmett finally made a move, slowly reaching into his robes as if to take something out to help them escape the secret realm.

Just then.

when--

A loud, distinct sound, unlike the gentle hammering of ore, drifted from the crack in the door, startling the wanderer who was still groping the corpse.

when--

The continuous pounding sounds were not only heard by the keen-eared wanderers, but even the bald man noticed the problem.

anyone?

After exchanging a glance with the wanderer, the bald man frowned, gripped his battle axe, and said in a deep voice, "Don't go. This secret realm has long been abandoned, and who knows what powerful monsters might be hiding there."

Having taken so many risks over the years, although he is considered reckless, he is by no means reckless. Such a coincidental sound of hammering must have something fishy going on.

Now that we have a general understanding of the secret realm, and with the added benefit of Mrs. Barlow's inheritance, the gains are already quite good, so it's better to withdraw as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, despite being the team leader, his understanding of the team members was not as precise as that of the silver fly.

"Don't worry, I'm being careful."

The wanderer crouched down, his tiptoes making his movements silent. He drew a dagger, its gleam gleaming coldly, and silently approached the door he had come from.

However, the instant his elbow touched the metal, he was met with a powerful whistling sound.

That was the sound of an arrow cutting through the wind, drawn with all its might, just about to snap, and then infused with powerful magic!