**Chapter 117: Provocation**
Stepping through Golden Harbor’s gate, Jie Ming was instantly engulfed by a wave of bustling noise.
Massive stone buildings intertwined with wooden walkways stretched toward the coastline.
The sea breeze carried a mix of salty dampness, fishy odors, and rich spices, permeating every corner.
In the distance, raucous singing and clamor spilled from taverns, rising and falling.
The Magic Guild’s entrance shimmered with arcane runes, mysterious and alluring, while towering temples of the gods radiated holy light, starkly contrasting the worldly din.
Jie Ming—or rather, his disguised persona “Jack”—walked silently through the streets, observing the crowd.
A throng of people bustled through, a chaotic mix of all sorts.
Finely dressed human nobles and merchants, poised and sharp-eyed, brushed past rugged pirates with curved blades at their waists, their gazes fierce with the savagery of a life on the edge.
Following the crowd, Jie Ming headed to a tavern in the port district that doubled as an Adventurers’ Guild.
A creaking wooden sign, swaying in the sea breeze, bore the scrawled words “Drunken Dolphin.”
Without the adventurer’s badge beside it, no one would guess it was a guild.
Pushing open the rickety door, a murky blend of ale, sweat, and tobacco hit him.
The tavern’s dim light fell on a thick wooden floor, slick with spilled filth.
Long wooden tables and benches were strewn haphazardly, where groups of adventurers caroused loudly, boasting of exploits or cursing missions.
The air thrummed with suppressed violence and the stench of coin.
Jie Ming’s entrance drew nearly every eye in the tavern. Though the noise didn’t falter, he felt their subtle glances.
Adventuring seemed free, but it was heavily localized.
Most low-tier adventurers were weak, tasked with menial jobs like clearing sewer sludge—akin to this world’s drifters.
With limited work in a city, newcomers were scrutinized.
Jie Ming, privy to Jack’s memories, ignored the stares.
He strode to the counter, handing over the worn, folded letter and mission credentials.
The bartender, a stout beastman, took the credentials with stubby fingers, glanced at them, and tossed Jie Ming a few silver coins.
“Mission complete, Jack. Next time, don’t fold the letter into a mess,” the beastman grumbled.
“Got it,” Jie Ming replied gruffly, pocketing the coins without a glance.
Turning to find a quiet corner, he scanned the room.
As he moved, a skinny hand darted toward his waist, aiming for the coin pouch.
A common “greeting” in the Adventurers’ Guild—a test of a newcomer’s mettle.
Jie Ming stepped forward as if unaware, but his left hand shot back like lightning, seizing the thief’s wrist.
With a slight twist, a sickening *crack* rang out, the thief’s arm bent at a horrifying angle.
“Ahhh!!!” The thief’s scream was gut-wrenching.
He collapsed, writhing in agony, drenched in cold sweat.
Jie Ming didn’t even glance back, strolling calmly toward the door.
The tavern fell silent for a moment, all noise halting.
His move was too ruthless!
The adventurers’ gazes didn’t all fix on Jie Ming; many shifted to the central table.
There sat a hulking man with a scarred face—“Iron Hammer” Carl, the local kingpin and mastermind behind the thieves.
Normally, handling a pickpocket would pass the test, deterring further trouble.
But Jie Ming’s brutal response wasn’t just a defense—it was a blatant show of dominance!
Undoubtedly, the thieves’ gang would see it as a direct challenge.
Carl’s face darkened, Jie Ming’s merciless act a slap to his authority.
“This kid doesn’t know the rules?” an adventurer at Carl’s table, seeing his boss’s grim expression, stood to teach Jie Ming a lesson.
Carl snorted, stopping his lackey with a restrained wave. “Tch, just a newbie. He’ll learn after a few hard knocks.”
Despite his brutish build, he affected a delicate air, mimicking the “upper class.”
No one dared mock him—those who did were long sunk in the moat.
The others at the table smirked maliciously, eyeing Jie Ming.
They knew this kid was in for it.
With their boss’s stance clear, they grew bolder.
At a table near the door, a lackey stretched out a thick leg as Jie Ming passed, aiming to trip him “accidentally”!
A flicker of mockery passed through Jie Ming’s eyes.
His steps didn’t falter, and he stomped down on the outstretched leg!
The sharp snap of breaking bone rang clear in the silent tavern!
The lackey’s taunting grin froze, replaced by sheer agony.
He let out a scream even shriller than the thief’s, collapsing like a broken log, clutching his grotesquely twisted leg, rolling and wailing.
Now, the tavern was utterly stunned.
Taking out the thief was one thing, but attacking Carl’s man and breaking his leg?!
“Get him! Kill him!” Carl’s face blackened, dropping his refined act, roaring furiously.
His cronies, eyes red with rage, grabbed knives, swords, and bottles, charging at Jie Ming!
Jie Ming’s lips curled, unfazed—almost amused—by the scene.
Facing seven or eight burly attackers, he moved like a phantom through the cramped space.
His strikes were simple yet lethal, each punch and kick carrying terrifying force and precision.
A side kick caught the fastest thug’s thigh, snapping it with a scream, sending him flying like a broken kite to crash against the wall and slump down.
Jie Ming sidestepped a dagger thrust, grabbing another’s arm and twisting, eliciting another bone-shattering sound.
In under ten seconds, amid continuous cracks and screams, all seven or eight attackers lay broken—legs or arms shattered, piled like trash in the tavern’s center, wailing.
It happened so fast they couldn’t even beg for mercy.
The other adventurers were terrified by the spectacle.
Expecting a show, they hadn’t anticipated this newcomer’s strength!
Carl, spared as the only one unscathed behind his lackeys, swallowed hard.
Seeing Jie Ming’s gaze fall on the hammer in his hand, Carl dropped it as if burned, abandoning his “dignity” and scrambling out of the tavern.
The opportunists ready to jump in shrank back to their seats, pretending to see nothing.
They stared at their cups or polished weapons, avoiding Jie Ming’s icy eyes.
They could feel the air thick with blood and rust—the mark of overwhelming power.
“Another ruthless one…” someone muttered, pale-faced.
“Way tougher than Iron Hammer Carl…”
Jie Ming glanced at the groaning heap on the floor, then at the trembling “spectators.”
Without further action, he sat at an empty table, grabbing a stained mug and pouring himself a full cup of ale.
He considered a sip for the mood but, seeing the grime, thought better of it.
“Tch,” he muttered, setting the mug down and leaving the tavern at the same leisurely pace he’d entered.
His relaxed stride suggested the incident was a mere trifle.
Only when he pushed the door and vanished did the tavern erupt back into noise.
No one discussed the departed Jie Ming, instead diving into other topics with forced enthusiasm, as if to banish the fear he’d left.
As for the broken thugs, no one cared. The tavern hired adventurers to toss them out.
Their survival till morning depended on luck.
From that moment, Golden Harbor’s Adventurers’ Guild gained a new untouchable figure—“Jack.”