The next morning, Colin grimaced as he climbed out of his sleeping bag.

His shoulder, where the Scorpion-tailed Lion had bitten him, and the spots where he’d fallen were badly swollen. The pain had kept him up most of the night.

"My apologies, Colin," Orelia said, walking over and placing her hand on his shoulder. "My Divine Art doesn’t recover until the first light of dawn touches me." As a faint blue light from her Divine Art began to glow, the swelling and bruises on his body vanished without a trace.

After moving his shoulder around, Colin joked, "In that case, couldn’t you have an endless supply of Divine Art if you just kept chasing the sun?"

Kase hollered from the side, "Watch out, or the Gods might get angry and cripple you!"

"But the sun always sets beneath the sea," Orelia replied matter-of-factly.

’I wonder if this world is a sphere.’

Colin grumbled to himself while packing his things. He also cleaned his mouth with a mixture of salt and charcoal powder, using a twig chewed into fibers.

Once they were packed, the group set off again.

Colin’s group had unceremoniously taken six jars of Antiseptic Oil, with each squad getting two.

They also returned the borrowed Shields, including the damaged ones. The Shields weren’t a total loss; after removing the Bone Spikes and making some minor repairs, they would still be usable.

The repair costs, of course, were all billed to that Dwarf.

That ought to teach the guy a lesson.

As for the mood in the caravan...

Despite the friction last night, it was still fairly good.

The other Adventurers were a bit envious of the haul Colin’s group had made, but the three squads that stepped up to fight the Scorpion-tailed Lion were undoubtedly the strongest in the caravan. If a fight broke out, it was hard to say who would be robbing whom.

Furthermore, since the three squads were traveling with the caravan, they avoided the risk of being ambushed by anyone desperate enough to try. Besides, Colin’s group was highly vigilant.

Under these circumstances, no one else in the caravan dared to get any funny ideas.

After another day of travel, the trade city-state of Rommon appeared at the foot of the mountains.

Colin stood on a hill, carefully observing the first city-state he had seen other than Thousand Masts City.

Compared to Thousand Masts City, this one looked more solid.

But it was also obviously a size smaller than Thousand Masts City.

It stretched along the foot of the Roaring Mountain Range in a long, narrow crescent, its back against a hard rock face. Three towering walls divided and enclosed the city, lined with one watchtower after another. There were even two separate castles within its bounds.

If not for the small tents of the market district within the walls and the dense clusters of carriages outside, one might almost mistake it for a massive fortress rather than a trade city-state.

The reason for this was simple.

The city occupied a rather peculiar geographical position.

To the northwest was the Roaring Mountain Range, where their group currently was. Directly north lay the desolate Endless Wilderness, to the East was the lush Giant Dragon Forest, and to the south, a vast swamp.

A faintly visible trade route came from the East, passed through the city, and wound its way along the foot of the Roaring Mountain Range toward the coast.

According to Edwin’s theory, this area was a veritable monster Heaven.

If this weren’t the only trade route connecting Thousand Masts City to several other major city-states, Colin couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose to live in such a "lovely" spot.

It was also worth mentioning that if one didn’t take this route, the only alternative was a massive detour through the Black Road in the northern Kasus Desert.

That place was said to be far worse than here; you even had to pay a toll to a thousand-year-old Legendary Blue Dragon to pass, which sounded incredibly ominous.

On second thought, this trade route wasn’t so bad after all.

After a short rest, the group continued toward Rommon.

It took them half a day to descend the mountain and reach the west gate of Rommon. Up close, the city looked even more solid.

Rommon was backed by a steep cliff face, its rough stone buildings stacked in layers as if they had grown right out of the mountain itself.

Over a dozen different flags fluttered from the outer wall. Between the crenellations were several single-operator harpoon launchers, which seemed designed to deal with large monsters.

Of course, the crude shacks built by the poor outside the walls were also an inevitable part of the scenery.

The trade route converged at the city gate here.

The entrance had two lanes for carriages and a smaller gate for pedestrians.

Here, the three squads parted ways with the shrewd Dwarf caravan leader and went to queue at the smaller gate. The line in front of them consisted mostly of citizens entering the city.

"Colin, is that... thing... normal?" Orelia asked from beside him, nervously clutching the tip of her tail as she stared at the small gate.

The other Adventurers around them also gazed worriedly toward the gate.

"I think it’s normal... maybe?" Colin said.

Standing by the small gate was a three-meter-tall creature. The thing had brawny shoulders and a bulging belly, and it was clad in thick Chain Armor and other pieces of Metal Armor. A heavy Large Cleaver hung at its waist. In comparison, the bald head perched on its shoulders looked pathetically small.

It was an Ogre, a genuine monster.

Just as their name implied, they devoured sentient beings alive, with a particular fondness for Dwarves, Elves, and Half-Elves. Their Intelligence was shockingly low, and they were extremely aggressive and ill-tempered. The vast majority of Ogres were murderers and bandits.

"I’m starting to regret coming south for work."

"The books might have said Rommon is a multi-racial city-state, but having a creature like that as a gate Guard is a bit... wild."

The Adventurers from the other two squads grumbled.

Kase wiped his nose. "If he tries to shake us down for some extra coin, are we gonna have to chop off our own hands to feed him?"

Although everyone knew the Half-Orc was trying to make a joke, nobody could bring themselves to laugh.

The line was moving quite efficiently.

The queue ahead of them gradually shortened, and before long, it was their turn at the gate.

"Where are you from, Mercenaries?" the Ogre asked.

"Thousand Masts City." "Kazad, farther north than Thousand Masts City."

Though it was strange how the Ogre could tell they weren’t locals at a glance, the group still answered honestly.

The Ogre scratched its head, then pulled a slip of paper from its back pocket.

Its beady little eyes struggled to make out the letters on the paper as it haltingly recited, "Listen. In Rommon, follow the rules. Entry tax is one Silver Coin per person. No drawing weapons. You got a problem, find a Guard. Curfew starts at midnight. At that time, streets... uh, only Guards."

"Good. Gala read that good," he said, nodding in satisfaction.

Just then, another figure emerged from inside the gate.

Upon seeing the newcomer, Kase instinctively reached for the handle of the axe at his waist.

The newcomer was a humanoid creature in Half-plate Armor. It had reddish-brown skin, a protruding forehead, a mouth full of sharp teeth, and a large nose.

It was a Hobgoblin, a type of Goblinoid Creature.

’Back when we were clearing out the Goblin Cave, I wondered if a Hobgoblin might show up,’ Colin thought. ’And here one is, waiting for me after all.’

The Hobgoblin walked up to the Ogre and—SLAP! SLAP!—hit it twice across the face.

As the Ogre whimpered and held its cheeks, the Hobgoblin turned to the group and said, "You’re carrying valuable monster materials. Don’t think you can get away with just one Silver Coin each. You have to pay tax based on their value!"