Zeno, having made her arrangements on the sixth floor, did not linger there.
Instead, she followed the passage toward the fifth floor.
On the fifth floor, at the boss room of the Wellmouth Sentry, Serafina's party had already arrived before the gates to challenge the guardian.
It seemed there was no way to stop them here.
Zeno watched the Wellmouth Sentry, who stood no chance against the group, and made her judgment.
Serafina's party was very powerful, yet they still failed to notice Zeno watching their every move from the shadows.
Zeno passed through the passage and reached the fifth floor.
The passage connecting the fourth and fifth floors had already been discovered by many adventurers.
Now, many adventurers were following the passage into the fifth floor to begin exploring and mapping the area.
From a tree, Zeno observed these adventurers' explorations, seeking to understand their every action.
A thief vine followed her orders and brought a book before her.
Taking the book from the thief vine, she waved it away and began to flip through the pages.
She needed to learn human knowledge and understand their behaviors.
Then she could infiltrate human society to better offer her loyalty and secure benefits for her master.
Currently, the people in the dungeon were her best subjects for learning.
'Tongmu, who is the most knowledgeable person in the entire dungeon?'
A figure on the fourth floor appeared in Zeno's mind—it was Fete, the alchemist of the fourth floor.
Zeno closed the book, ignored the adventurers on the fifth floor, and headed for the human station on the fourth floor.
...
Meanwhile, on the fourth floor.
Fete, whose water of life had been stolen, had gone through cycles of impotent rage, despair, and decadence before finally regaining his resolve.
He had started working.
There was no other way; buying that water of life had cost him the majority of the wealth he had accumulated over the first half of his life.
That was wealth he had earned as an alchemical craftsman, trading away his youth at the alchemy table for over a decade.
He began taking orders from merchants, processing bulk quantities of wood fragments dropped by the wood soldiers and wood armor monsters of the fourth and fifth floors into mana items—the Pinky Knife and the Kiss of Greenery ring.
An alchemist was a rare and important figure.
These merchants could usually barely even get an audience with one, yet now an alchemist was actually working for hire in this dungeon.
A massive volume of orders flooded into his small workshop.
He couldn't finish them; he simply couldn't finish them all.
"Excuse me, is Mr. Fete in?"
The door to the alchemy workshop was knocked upon.
A haggard-looking Fete lifted his head; having just spent the entire night in a manic alchemy session to escape reality, even the alchemist's powerful mind felt somewhat dazed.
Before him stood a short, stout figure dressed inconspicuously, yet possessing a hidden aura of magic.
Judging by the attire, it seemed to be a merchant.
As an alchemist, Fete could tell at a glance that these low-key clothes were over ten times more expensive than the vulgar, flashy formal wear of those merchants who draped themselves in gold and jade.
"If it's an order, I've stopped taking them."
Fete, sporting dark circles under his eyes, waved a hand dismissively.
"I am willing to pay extra. Double."
"Well, that is a different service then. Black tea or coffee?"
An alchemist's integrity? Such a thing had been lost along with his water of life.
The merchant sat down, accepted the black tea, and pulled a pouch of gold coins from his robes, placing it on the table.
Fete took one look and felt his breath hitch.
What a generous hand!
"This is a deposit, but not for an alchemy order for this dungeon."
"Rather, I hope Mr. Fete can join us."
The merchant's next words sent a chill through Fete's heart.
"No need. Take the money back. I'm not interested."
He stood up immediately, having no desire for further conversation.
'Join' was a nice way of putting it.
To put it in terms everyone understood:
'You're quite good at making money, so come make money for me. Not only will I restrict your freedom and make you work yourself to death, but I'll also take half your earnings!'
Ptui!
Despicable!
"Mr. Fete may have misunderstood. I am not asking you to join some merchant guild."
"But rather a private guild serving a certain Great Lord."
A Great Lord.
A noble?
Fete suppressed his inner anger, barely managing not to curse out loud.
"No. You can leave now. Give my regards to that 'Great Lord' of yours."
Seeing Fete's firm refusal, the merchant could only pick up his cane and stand with a smile.
"Since Mr. Fete is so persistent, it would be rude of me to keep pushing."
"People who don't know what's good for them don't last long in this world."
"Forgive my intrusion, Mr. Fete."
The merchant spoke with pointed intent before turning toward the door.
Fete's expression was visibly grim as he looked at the money pouch on the table.
"You forgot your money."
The merchant didn't turn around, simply waving a hand.
"Money given by that Great Lord is never taken back."
"Farewell."
The merchant stepped out of the door without a moment's hesitation.
Fete felt a surge of horror and stood frozen in place.
Knock, knock.
The door was knocked upon again, snapping the dazed Fete back to his senses.
Looking at the typical merchant outside dressed in vulgar finery, he stepped forward without hesitation.
"I'm not seeing anyone today!"
He slammed the door shut with a bang.
Then he strode to his desk and pulled out a quill and parchment.
In his haste, he accidentally knocked over the ink bottle.
Pitch-black ink spilled across the desk.
"Dammit!"
Fete cursed, quickly setting the bottle upright while trying to calm his heart as he cleaned up.
He pulled a piece of parchment that was stained at the corner and dipped his quill haphazardly into the ink spilled on the table.
He set pen to paper.
"The newly appointed alchemist, Fete Silan, seeks assistance from the Alchemist Association..."
Even after writing the letter and entrusting a messenger to send it quickly, Fete remained uneasy.
That night, after using a magic item to confirm there were no watchers nearby, he escaped through the back door.
Meanwhile, Zeno was in the forest beside the station, watching everything unfold.
The knowledge was running away.
Zeno did not react rashly but instead sought her master's advice.
Soon, a new order from her master was transmitted to her.
"Protect him. Do not let him die in the Well of Eternal Imprisonment."
"If anyone attacks, identify the attackers. If you can eliminate them, eliminate them all."
"Leave no survivors."
"Yes, my Lord."
Now, she only had to carry out her master's command.
At the same time, Tongmu updated the maps of the first four floors and transmitted them over.
Among them, six figures were specially marked.
One second-rank, two first-rank.
The second-rank was a swordsman, and the first-rank ones were a heavy warrior and a swordsman.
The rest were at the peak of human capability.
These people, including the heavy warrior, were not wearing heavy armor.
Instead, they wore light armor concealed under black cloaks to hide their forms and identities.
This attire was clearly not for exploring the dungeon, but for a purposeful infiltration to carry out a mission.
Since they were hiding their faces like this, who could they blame if they died in the dungeon?
And how would they dare to seek revenge?
So, she would just treat them all as tasty snacks.
It was a perfect chance to test Zeno's combat capabilities.
It would also give him more confidence when challenging the tenth floor. As for potential hidden dangers...
Only those who survive are worthy of mentioning dangers. If his strength wasn't enough and he couldn't clear the tenth floor, he truly wouldn't survive anyway.
Rate on N.U.
