Chapter 12: Asen Howell

Night had already fallen.

Harut Harbor, Seventh Pier Street.

Compared to other places, this area was ablaze with lights and bustling with activity.

A large number of dockworkers were busy moving valuable cargo back and forth.

Although extraordinary storage items like bracelets and rings had already appeared,

the bulk cargo transported by merchant ships was clearly beyond the capacity of the limited space in such storage equipment.

At the entrance of Seventh Pier Street.

Clop, clop...

A carriage stopped, then departed again.

By the roadside, Gune, wearing a gray cloak that completely shrouded his head under the hood, cast a brief glance over the bustling dock and harbor.

Winter had passed, and spring was the busiest season for sailing; many maritime merchants had already begun their trade voyages.

He took out the card Old Oak had given him, inscribed with the Sea Demon Ship, examined it carefully to confirm the address, and then walked on foot toward the nearby "Haimlong Tavern."

Compared to Old Sam's Black Mist House Tavern, the Haimlong Tavern seemed more chaotic.

This was evident from the two sailors lying unconscious at the entrance of a small alley around the corner, stripped down to their underpants.

As soon as Gune entered the Haimlong Tavern,

he heard a commotion of arguing voices.

"Hey, old man, that's my cup."

"You're lying, it's clearly mine," a drunken voice slurred, the tongue barely able to form words.

"Are you looking for death, old geezer? If you don't let go of my cup, I'll make sure you never drink Black Roo again."

Then came a chorus of jeers and encouragement.

"Jim, why waste words on him? Kill that old drunk."

"That old bastard is always mooching drinks at the bar."

"Jim, if you're a man, knock him out and throw him out. I bet someone will come and strip him naked in less than ten minutes."

"I bet less than five minutes."

All kinds of noise mingled together.

Then,

with a "thud!"

Gune, who had just entered, saw an old man crash headfirst onto the floor right in front of his feet.

His face bore a purple bruise.

Clearly, that punch was no light one.

"A second-rank extraordinary sailor."

Gune's gaze swept over the old drunk, reaching this conclusion.

Many extraordinary sailors were low-star extraordinary beings, spending their entire lives as mere first-rank ordinary extraordinary sailors.

To become a second-rank extraordinary sailor meant that their extraordinary profession was at least a complete one-star.

The old sailor who had been knocked down staggered to his feet and let out a burp.

He didn't argue with the man who had punched him, but found a seat and sat down, seemingly half-drunk and half-asleep.

Gune quickly scanned the interior of the tavern.

Most of the sailors here were extraordinary sailors.

In the current season, many sailors had gathered here.

Unlike the dockworkers who sold their labor, these sailors could accompany merchant ships on long voyages, protect the safety of the voyage, and even dive into the ocean to fight against marauding sea tribes.

Some extraordinary sailors even had their own team organizations.

Such team organizations were generally called—pirate merchant ships.

They engaged half in trade and half in plunder.

At the bar, Gune raised his hand to the bartender.

"A glass of Ice Blue Martini."

Soon, the bartender placed a glass of Ice Blue Martini in front of Gune.

Gune dropped two Silver Dragons into the bartender's tray. A glass of Ice Blue Martini cost less than half a Silver Dragon; the extra was clearly a tip for information.

"I'd like to ask you something," Gune said softly.

Looking at the two Silver Dragon coins gleaming with silver light, the bartender's face broke into a smile.

"Go ahead."

"I'm looking for a man named Jason Howell."

"Jason Howell." The bartender thought for a moment.

"He should be a regular here," said Gune.

"I think the man you're looking for is not far behind you." After a moment's thought, the bartender pointed behind Gune.

Gune turned and, following the direction the bartender indicated, happened to see the old drunk who had just been knocked to the floor.

"Everyone calls him Jason. As for whether his name is Jason Howell, you'll have to ask him yourself."

Looking at the old drunk, Gune frowned. "Did I find the wrong person?"

After thinking it over, Gune tossed another silver dragon into the bartender's tray.

"Give me two cups of Black Ale, large."

Large Black Ale, 38 copper coins a cup. One silver dragon was a hundred copper coins; the small change was left as a tip.

"Sure, please wait a moment."

A moment later, Gune sat down in front of the old drunk, carrying two large wooden cups of Black Ale.

With a soft thud,

the two large cups of Black Ale were placed before the old drunk.

The half-drunk old man seemed roused by the commotion.

His eyelids lifted slightly.

The next moment, he perked up.

Then, grabbing one of the large cups of Black Ale, he gulped it down with a "glug, glug..."

After finishing one cup, his other hand had already reached for the second.

But this second cup—

"Glug, glug..."

In less than twenty seconds, both large cups of Black Ale had been downed by the old drunk.

Then something astonishing happened to Gune.

After the old drunk downed the two large cups of Black Ale, his whole demeanor seemed to improve.

The more he drank, the more sober he appeared.

"Young man," the old drunk said with a grin, revealing his yellowed, blackened teeth.

"Could you get two more cups?"

Gune returned to the bar and placed four silver dragons before the bartender.

"Bring ten large cups of Black Ale, all of them."

"Sure, no problem."

A moment later, ten large cups of Black Ale were all delivered before the old drunk.

Seeing so much Black Ale, the old drunk's eyes lit up.

After downing two more cups of Black Ale, the old drunk seemed revitalized, with none of his earlier drunkenness.

Gune marveled at this sight.

"Young men like you are rare," the old drunk said with a smile.

"Are you... Jason Howell?" Gune asked in a low voice.

The old drunk thought for a moment, then looked at Gune.

"Did someone send you?"

"Yes," Gune nodded lightly.

"I suppose what you want to talk about is something you don't want others to know."

The old drunk glanced around and lowered his voice.

"Hmm! Come with me. This isn't a good place to talk."

Then the old drunk stood up directly.

"These drinks... you don't want them?"

Jason Howell shrugged.

"These are just for passing the time. When work comes knocking, work comes first."

With that, the old drunk Jason got up and headed out of the tavern.

Watching Jason Howell's back, and then looking at the Black Ale on the table, Gune felt many eyes on him.

After a moment's thought, a hint of a smile curled at the corner of Gune's mouth, and he followed.

Not long after Gune and the old drunk Jason walked out of the tavern,

at a spot not far from the two, a figure in a worn old jacket and a sailor's hat silently followed.