Who Says I’m Not a Legitimate Adventurer?

Upon hearing this, Flora did not immediately agree. Instead, she pressed a finger against her chin and began to think.

“There might actually be an even better opportunity than putting it in the potion shop.”

“Recently, the guild has been organizing a large-scale extermination mission and is looking for potion suppliers for order cooperation.”

“Aunt Movenna has been worried about it too.”

“Because the Silver Flask Alchemy Merchant Guild from White River City has a wide variety of potions and strong distribution channels, posing a significant threat.”

“However, hemostatic-type medicines are perfect for competing for the next batch of orders.”

“The joint extermination will last six days. Today, the first vanguard team is setting out. We didn’t win the last order, but for the second batch, Aunt Movenna will definitely grit her teeth and secure it.”

“Although many experienced adventurers can make hemostatic ointments themselves, your product…”

Flora glanced at the rabbit in the cage, which had already begun hopping around energetically.

“This is already very close to the effect of the Troll’s Blood potion, and it has a greater advantage in terms of cost.”“If it’s launched on the market, it will definitely be highly competitive.”

Thinking this through, the girl nodded, affirming her own conclusion.

“There shouldn’t be any problem placing it in the shop. If we’re lucky, it might even get included in the guild’s procurement list. I’ll talk to Aunt Movenna when I get back.”

Although nothing had been finalized yet, judging by her confident expression, she clearly felt certain.

Lance was overjoyed.

As long as he could open up this sales channel, it would be like owning a goose that laid golden eggs.

“Then I’ll leave it to you, future potion master.”

Lance smiled happily, pressing his hands together in thanks.

“When I make money, I’ll treat you to a big meal—order whatever you want.”

At the mention of a “big meal,” Flora swallowed. The snacks in her apron pocket suddenly seemed far less appealing.

“Then it’s settled!”

The two quickly reached an “agreement.”

Lance packed all the small jars of “Lance’s Special Hemostatic Ointment” that he had made overnight into the satchel Flora had brought.

He kept only two portions for himself as backup.

He also repaid Flora the money he had previously owed her for buying books.

After sending off Flora, who left fully loaded, Lance did not remain idle.

Today was his rest day at the guild, so he didn’t need to sit behind the counter.

This was the perfect opportunity to head into the forest to earn some extra income and accumulate skill and knowledge experience.

Lance skillfully dragged out the heavy equipment chest from under the bed.

He changed into studded leather armor, tightened his greaves, and hung his well-maintained short sword at his waist.

Finally, he put on a large hood, concealing most of his face in shadow.

The scribe Lance disappeared.

Now, he was the adventurer “Raven.”

He stuffed the remaining two jars of ointment into his waist pouch and checked the hazelwood short bow and quiver on his back.

Then he set off for the Adventurers’ Guild.

Pushing open the guild’s heavy doors, a tense atmosphere completely different from usual rushed toward him.

The adventurers still moving about in the hall now wore fewer carefree smiles and more solemn expressions.

The first batch of logistical supplies for the joint extermination mission had already been assembled.

Boxes of supplies bearing the guild’s seal were being carried by workers, who shouted in rhythm as they stacked them on one side of the hall, forming what looked like a small mountain.

According to the battle plan on the notice board, this operation would adopt a “three-stage relay” advancement model.

The first wave of the vanguard team was already fully prepared and was expected to depart today, advancing into Copper Creek Forest.

Although the announcement had only been released yesterday, the first vanguard team was not assembled through open recruitment. Instead, it had been personally selected by the guild master.

Their mission was both difficult and clear.

They had to forcibly secure a safe area as a forward base for subsequent forces, and then use it as a springboard to pave the way for the next two waves.

The latter two waves would comb through the occupied territory repeatedly like a fine-toothed comb, until they achieved the strategic goal of advancing five kilometers inward.

As the pathfinders, the first team’s blade pointed directly at “Thornspike Hill.”

It was a long-established medium-sized Goblin nest, surrounded by eight scattered smaller encampments, like a malignant tumor choking the forest’s throat.

In addition to eliminating adult monsters, the core objective was to destroy the nursery deep within the nest and the food storage caves.

This was to cut off the Goblins at their root and completely eliminate their ability to reproduce rapidly.

Aside from the Goblins, several slightly smaller monster nests also needed to be handled by the vanguard team.

Standing at the edge of the crowd, Lance’s gaze swept over the adventurers gathered in the center of the hall.

There were nearly a hundred of them.

They wore well-maintained chainmail or leather armor, their weapons gleaming coldly, quietly discussing tactical coordination among themselves.

Even from a distance, one could feel the aura of killing intent.

This was the true foundation of an Adventurers’ Guild.

“What a grand scene.”

Lance lowered the brim of his hood and couldn’t help but sigh inwardly as he looked at those who were about to dance on the edge of blades.

Such a scale of mobilization was indeed rare in a border town like Graystone Town.

But he knew his place very well.

For Lance, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Where there was war, there would be bloodshed. And where there was bloodshed, there would be demand for potions.

He could already imagine that when these vanguard members became exhausted and battered from fighting Goblins in the jungle, the highly effective hemostatic ointment in his hands would be incredibly sought after.

Lance skillfully avoided the crowd and arrived at the quiet low-level quest counter.

He casually accepted a simple commission to collect Silverleaf Grass.

His main goal for this trip was to continue accumulating skill and knowledge experience through gathering tasks, while also taking advantage of the vanguard team clearing out danger ahead to collect some Coagulation Moss.

Although the materials he gathered himself would be far from sufficient for mass-producing hemostatic ointment in the future,

he would still need to spend money to purchase raw materials from others.

However, considering that he would soon step into the world of class holders, there would definitely be many expenses ahead.

So he needed to start being mindful of spending now.

Saving a bit on materials today, a bit tomorrow—over time, it would add up significantly.

On the other hand, he could stay behind the vanguard. When the time came, retreating together with the wounded would allow him to observe how potions were being used, helping him estimate future production volumes.

Make a big profit—and take another step closer to his dream of going to Trade Capital · Ostera.

After completing the formalities, Lance tucked the parchment commission into his chest and walked briskly toward the door with his head lowered.

Just as he stepped out of the guild doors and squinted slightly at the sunlight outside—

A voice tinged with surprise suddenly called out from behind him.

“Senior!”

Lance paused, his brows slightly furrowing beneath the hood.

Was that directed at him?

He instinctively pressed his hand against the hilt of his sword and slowly turned around.

Standing at the steps below the guild entrance was a blond young man carrying a longsword.

The young man’s face carried a hint of nervousness.

It was none other than Damian, whom he had harshly scolded that day.

Damian, standing below the steps, looked quite different from the last time they met.

He wore leather armor similar in style to Lance’s, but the once-smooth surface was now covered in many fresh scratches.

Lance recognized those uneven claw marks—they looked like the work of some kind of canine creature.

It seemed the kid had been engaging in quite a bit of close combat with Gnolls lately.

Looking further down at his boots, the toes and sides were stained with dried dark-red mud, clearly showing that he had spent quite some time struggling through the swampy terrain of the forest.