Since the team was already settled, Shi Hanfeng didn’t plan to linger in the noisy guild any longer.
His gaze swept over the worn spots on Hans and Gert’s leather armor, where even the inner patches were visible, and he quickly calculated in his mind.
This equipment’s risk resistance is a bit low.
“Come with me.”
He called out, offering no further explanation, and headed straight for the guild’s main door.
Hans and Gert exchanged glances—though they didn’t understand, their bodies moved faster than their brains. Like soldiers responding to a command, they followed without hesitation.
This man was now their patron and lifeline; whatever he said, they obeyed.
The three of them made a direct turn into the next-door ironsmith shop, which echoed with clanging sounds.
A wave of heat mixed with the scents of coal, metal, and sweat hit them as they entered.
The ironsmith boss, bare-chested with bronzed muscles glistening with oil, only lifted his eyelids for a glance before bellowing, “Look around as you please. If you see anything, call me.”
Then he buried himself back into swinging the massive hammer down onto a glowing red iron ingot.
Shi Hanfeng’s target was clear. Ignoring the gleaming longswords and mighty battle axes, he went straight to the wall lined with helmets.
Hans and Gert were today’s main Palus—their core task was to hold the frontline and absorb damage.
Their own armor, though old, could at least protect the vital chest and abdomen.
But their heads were completely unprotected and exposed.
That was just too dangerous.
He had no intention of letting the frontliners he’d spent two whole gold coins—a “fortune”—to hire die before the battle even started, skewered by a lucky Goblin with a rusted short arrow possibly laced with poison and fired from some garbage heap, straight through the eye or face.
That kind of death was just too miserable.
Besides, whether his “Wish of the White Flower” could save someone who’d been headshotted or had their throat pierced was an experiment he’d have plenty of chances to run later.
He had zero desire to use his own quest to test that theory.
“Boss, this one,”
Shi Hanfeng pointed at the Covering Helm on the wall—the one wrapped up like an iron can, leaving only a narrow slit for vision and a few pitiful breathing holes.
“Take down three for me to try.”
The ironsmith set down his hammer and came over, giving Shi Hanfeng a surprised look, as if wondering why a pretty-boy type preferred such heavy gear.
But he didn’t ask further and obediently took down three helmets to hand over.
The helmets were rough in craftsmanship, with burrs along the edges, but the materials were solid—thick iron plates with a thin layer of leather inside for cushioning.
Shi Hanfeng tried one on himself.
Immediately, his head felt trapped in a stuffy can, his vision shrank to a door-crack view of the world, and his breathing thundered in the enclosed space like a bellows.
He nodded, then gestured for Hans and Gert to try as well.
Hans and Gert took the helmets, both looking a bit surprised and awkward.
“Mr. Rochet,” Hans weighed the heavy helmet, unable to hold back.
“These iron cans are usually only used by heavy infantry on the battlefield or knights charging to their deaths. The ventilation is terrible, vision is limited, and for adventurers like us who often need to crawl through forests and climb hills, they’re really not the best choice. Plus, they cost a lot more than ordinary leather helms.”
He didn’t know if he should remind his employer that for adventurers like them, this thing was just as likely to turn them deaf or blind as it was to help.
“Take it.”
Shi Hanfeng picked up the helmet and gave an unassailable reason.
“Safety first. You don’t have to pay for any of today’s equipment, and any gear damage is covered, too.”
With that said, what more could they say?
The patron’s word was law.
Without further hesitation, they accepted their fate and fitted the iron cans onto their heads.
Buzz.
The world was instantly cut off.
Sounds became muffled, vision narrowed to a slit, and their own breathing thundered in their ears.
But, undeniably, the feeling of being fully wrapped in heavy steel brought a real sense of security, almost making one believe they were invulnerable.
“Not bad.”
Shi Hanfeng nodded in satisfaction at their appearance, then pointed to a pile of dust-covered, circular iron shields in the corner that looked like leftover stock.
“Take those two Small Round Shields down, too.”
These shields weren’t large, just a bit bigger than a washbasin—enough to cover vital points but much more maneuverable than tower shields, making them ideal for tight cave spaces.
Finally, Shi Hanfeng’s gaze moved to the weapon rack.
He already had the Wufeng Sword—a Novice Weapon: Blunt Sword from the Gift Pack.
Though it wasn’t sharpened, the material was top-notch; no issue as a main weapon.
But he needed something sharp, suitable for close quarters or emergency throws.
After scanning the rack, he picked a medium-length, cold-edged Dagger, tested its grip, weight, and balance, and then simply sheathed it at his waist.
“Boss, settle the bill.”
Three Covering Helms, two Small Round Shields, one Dagger.
The ironsmith boss fiddled with an old, greasy abacus, the beads clicking furiously before he spat out a figure that made Hans’s eye twitch.
“Total, three Gold Coins. Since you’re straightforward, I’ll waive the small change.”
This was enough for their squad to live frugally for quite a while, even accounting for regular expenses.
Shi Hanfeng counted out three gleaming Gold Coins without hesitation.
The ironsmith boss accepted the payment, his attitude flipping from aloof to enthusiastic as he slapped his massive hand on his chest.
“Ha! Kid, I like your style. Straightforward. May your adventures be safe and rewarding. Bring your gear here for repairs in the future, I’ll give you a twenty percent discount.”
“May your words come true.”
Shi Hanfeng nodded, handing Hans and Gert the newly bought rations—several dry bread sticks and two leather pouches of water—to carry.
“Let’s go.”
Leaving Ximu Town, they retraced Hans’s party’s path from the day before in reverse.
“Mr. Rochet, which Goblin nest are we going to clear?”
Hans, burdened with gear and sweating under the stifling helmet, asked curiously.
“Self-initiated requests don’t provide the locations of other nests. You only arrived yesterday, right? How do you know where the other ones are?”
“Indeed.”
Shi Hanfeng walked ahead with light steps.
“I just got to Ximu Town yesterday, so I’m not familiar with the area.”
“Ah? Then…”
Hans grew even more confused.
“We’ll search near where Jemie was caught in the trap.”
Shi Hanfeng explained without turning.
“The places where traps are set for hunting are usually not far from their nests. If we search carefully, we should find something.”
Hans and Gert suddenly understood, their doubts dissolving and replaced by a surge of motivation.
Time to avenge their comrade.
In this world, due to the Divine Beings’ twisted sense of humor, Goblins were considered weak pests.
But that didn’t override basic logic or survival instincts.
Just like normal people would feel disgusted if they stepped in dog crap, yet fighting stray dogs alone risked getting bitten.
Now, someone was paying you to hunt the dogs, providing equipment and safety, plus a generous reward—who wouldn’t be pleased with that arrangement?
Before long, they returned to the familiar forest clearing.
The signs from yesterday remained.
The blood on the ground had dried and darkened, and a faint, unpleasant stench still lingered.
The three of them spread out in a fan shape, searching meticulously from the destroyed trap as their center.
Hans, a seasoned local, was so familiar with the area that it might as well have been his own backyard.
In less than half an hour, he called out in a low voice from behind some thick bushes.
“This way.”
He parted the thorns, revealing a narrow cave entrance deliberately hidden by dead branches and leaves, but the frequent passage marks were still obvious.
The entrance wasn’t large—barely big enough for a grown man to crawl through hunched over.
Inside, it was pitch black, like the mouth of some greedy beast, exuding the rank odor of feces, rot, and wild beast musk.
“This is it.”
Hans confirmed, gesturing to the markings with his sword scabbard.
Shi Hanfeng nodded and reached out to stop Hans, who instinctively tried to charge in.
“No rush.”
He signaled for silence, and the three of them found a concealed, downwind spot behind some bushes and waited patiently.
Time crawled by for two hours, until the sun reached its peak.
Just as Hans was about to stretch his numb, stiff limbs, a chorus of shuffling footsteps and sharp, shrill cries drifted from afar.
Three small, green-skinned figures, carrying tattered burlap sacks filled with crooked wild fruits or small animal carcasses, stumbled toward the cave, shoving and squabbling.
Their alertness was low, oblivious that their nest had been discovered, and they soon disappeared into the darkness.
“At this point, let’s eat first…”
Shi Hanfeng whispered.
The three refilled their energy, then waited another hour, confirming that no more Goblins returned before finally standing and brushing off the grass.
“Time to move.”
Clack, clack.
Hans and Gert took deep breaths, pulled down the visors of their Covering Helms, and transformed completely into iron cans with only their eyes showing.
They gripped their swords and new Small Round Shields, inhaling the forest’s fresh air one last time.
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