Yarra's Adventure Notes-Chapter 140 - 5 Mercenaries_1

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"Are you talking to me?" Catherine looked indifferently at the blushing face of the young mercenary, stimulated by alcohol, and asked softly.

"Yes, yes," the young mercenary mumbled. "I’m asking you for a... Ah!"

Without any movement from Catherine, the Aggression Shield surrounding her suddenly activated and then immediately closed. Unprepared for the impact, the closest young mercenary to Catherine was propelled backwards a few steps, landing painfully on the ground. His numb mind couldn’t comprehend what had just happened; he just instinctively rubbed his sore buttocks and let out a painful yell.

"Golden!" Some of the more knowledgeable spectators among the mercenaries voiced their incredulous exclamations after seeing the color and texture of Catherine’s Aggression Shield.

While both mercenaries and adventurers in the Yarran World relied on strength, they differed in that adventurers often relied on individual power while mercenaries operated in groups like armies. This characteristic resulted in mercenaries not often encountering Upper Rank professionals. In a large mercenary group, only a few senior leaders would possess Gold Rank strength and there would be no more than ten members in total with such capabilities. As for those reaching Legendary Rank, there would be at most one or two. This ratio corresponded closely with the proportions of Gold Rank professionals among humans. In the current Yarran World, of over 200 million humans, only about 230 have been lucky enough to advance to the Legendary Rank and survive, and those who achieve Gold Rank number only in the thousands - a percentage tragically low.

Hence, when the mercenaries realized that the beautiful woman before them was a Gold Rank professional, they couldn’t control the volume of their astonished exclamations. Actually, if these mercenaries were replaced with adventurers, the reactions wouldn’t be so startled, as adventurers have a higher proportion of Upper Rank professionals and are more accustomed to seeing them.

"I despise alcohol." Catherine dismissed the astonished cries and the fearful loiterers awkwardly shuffling backwards, her face expressionless as she walked past the fallen young mercenary without so much as a glance. "Thus, I despise being invited to drink."

"Oh dear, how did you fall down?" Leading Vivian and appearing like she’d discovered something amusing, she quickly surpassed Lina to where the young mercenary was on the ground. She helped him up in a fluster, brushing off the dirt on his clothes. "How are you? Are you injured?" she asked with concern.

"I’m okay, I’m fine, thank you, little sister." The mercenary, jarred sober by his fall, began to clear his head. Noticing Vivian coming to his aid, he took the opportunity to stand up.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" Vivian lifted her head slightly, her big watery eyes focused on the mercenary as she gently asked, "So, big brother, are you still inviting us for drinks?"

"No, no more." The mercenary, jolted sober, took a fearful glance at Catherine and shook his head. "I wouldn’t dare."

"What?" Vivian tilted her head up to reveal a disappointed expression. A puzzled fog formed in her huge eyes. "Big brother, you’ve actually lied to me. I hate you the most!"

"Bang!" A blue Magic Shield opened and closed in a heartbeat. Once again, the young mercenary who had just stood up stumbled back a few steps and landed on the ground. He rubbed his sore bottom and groaned in pain.

Another Gold Rank.

The entire pub fell silent. No one defended the young mercenary who was sitting on the ground, including those who had egged him on. Given the levels displayed by the two young girls, everyone in the room knew that banding together against them would still result in their easy defeat. The young girls were obviously just playing around and did not mean to actually hurt the young man, so the crowd wisely chose to stay neutral.

The young mercenary, having been bounced around twice, had sobered considerably and realized that he had provoked someone he shouldn’t have. Sitting on the ground, he seemed quite at a loss. As he was zoning out, he saw a silver-haired young priestess walking towards him with a graceful stride.

The white priestess robe emitted a divine aura, while her long silver hair cascaded gently down her back. The light shining from behind her gave a holy glow to her figure. The elegance and nobility in her every movement, be it her steps, the swing of her arms, or the angle of her smile, was flawless. Through the eyes of the young mercenary, the elegant and sacred priestess looked like a goddess emerging from a myth, bringing forth the light of hope and extending a hand of salvation to him.

"Come, get up." The priestess held a thick book to her chest with her left hand and extended her right hand to the young mercenary. Her face adorned with a gentle smile, she spoke in a soft, melodious voice, "The ground’s cold. You’ll get sick."