Who Says I’m Not a Legitimate Adventurer?

Lance reined in his thoughts, deliberately lowering his voice and putting on a fierce expression:

“If I run into you again next time, you’re dead.”

After saying that, he bent down and picked up the money pouch from the ground.

He weighed it in his hand, listening to the crisp clinking of silver coins inside, nodded in satisfaction, and casually tucked it into his chest.

Then.

Lance didn’t even spare the man on the ground another glance. He turned and left, his movements clean and decisive.

Watching that figure quickly disappear at the alley’s exit, the tracker lying on the ground was completely dumbfounded.

That’s it… he just left?

The other party had actually believed his claim of being just an ordinary petty thief?

No interrogation about the mastermind? No suspicion about his motives?He had even prepared three entire sets of lies in his head to get out of trouble, yet not a single one was used.

This completely unconventional way of handling things made him momentarily question life.

“Ghh…”

The sharp pain from his ribs made him suck in a cold breath, dragging his thoughts back to reality.

The tracker clutched his chest and struggled to get up from the ground, a trace of resentment flashing in his eyes.

That guy’s strength was simply terrifying.

Just a simple head press and elbow strike had carried such overwhelming force that it left lingering fear in his heart.

Based on his experience, the opponent’s Strength attribute had definitely approached the upper limit of a non-professional.

This was extremely important intelligence—he had to report it back to the boss immediately.

“Hmph…”

The tracker spat out a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva.

As for the money pouch that had been taken—

“Hmph, consider it temporarily stored with you.”

Gritting his teeth, he staggered along the wall and moved toward the other end of the alley.

Lance stepped out of the dark alley, his pace becoming composed once more.

Reaching a corner, after confirming that no one around was paying attention, he slightly stirred his thoughts and opened the system panel.

Sure enough.

The information of that unlucky guy he had just let go was now clearly listed in the latest tab of the Codex.

【Name: Jeff】

【Affiliation: Ghoulhound (micro-scale criminal gang)】

【Codename/Role: Camp Rat】

Seeing this, Lance raised an eyebrow slightly.

This time, the Codex display format was completely different from that of Hakon the Coin Counter.

Behind Jeff’s name, the black entry representing his affiliation was faintly flickering, as if guiding him to click it.

Without hesitation, Lance used his consciousness to touch the black entry labeled 【Ghoulhound】.

With a swish.

A concise yet shocking organizational chart unfolded before his eyes.

The gang wasn’t large—at most just over a dozen people—and its structure was brutally simple.

On this tree diagram, every name had its specific role within the gang clearly marked, and even a dynamic portrait was displayed beside each one.

Lance clicked into Jeff’s entry under 【Camp Rat】 to view the detailed description.

【Role Description: Permanently stationed at temporary supply points along forest edges or on mandatory routes. Specializes in observing passing Adventurer parties, marking those who return heavily loaded but lack vigilance, as well as wounded remnants of teams after battles. Responsible for initial tracking and reporting once the target’s position is confirmed.】

Above him were roles like “Razor,” responsible for refurbishing and laundering goods, “Hyena,” in charge of killing to silence, and finally “Gold Washer,” who handled fencing and converting goods into cash.

This was a complete black-market industrial chain.

These people had no interest in fighting ferocious monsters. Their prey was their own kind—those who had just survived life-and-death battles and were utterly exhausted.

A trace of coldness flashed in Lance’s eyes.

This reminded him of when he had just transmigrated.

That unfortunate original body might very well have died at the hands of such hyena-like gangs.

Scum like these, who treated Adventurers as fools and fed off the dead, truly deserved to die.

However, the Codex system could only show him the structure of this organization for now—it couldn’t explain why Jeff had suddenly targeted him today.

Lance closed the organizational chart and shifted his gaze back to the bottom of Jeff’s personal panel.

That was the section he was most looking forward to—【Secrets】.

Perhaps only here could he uncover something truly valuable.

【Jeff’s Secrets】

【Secret One: He had recently discovered by accident that his boss, Buck, possessed something extraordinary. It seemed to be a “Curious Object of Fire Theft.”】

【He was certain it wasn’t some prank-tier trash, because during their last retreat, he had personally witnessed the boss using it, allowing the entire team to successfully shake off their pursuers.】

A Curious Object of Fire Theft?!

Lance was not unfamiliar with this term.

In those travelogues recording strange tales of the continent, it referred to a unique category of objects that defied common sense.

The origin of all such items pointed to a deity not recognized by orthodox temples, even regarded as heretical—the Fire Thief.

There were no orthodox historical records of this deity’s miracles.

But in the underground world, there existed a secret organization called the “Cult of the Fool,” which fanatically worshipped this god.

Just as the Goddess Areteia granted 【Talents】 to intelligent races—

Believers firmly held that these “Curious Objects of Fire Theft” were gifts bestowed upon the continent by the Fire Thief.

The reason they were called works of a god was because these objects possessed power far beyond conventional magical items.

If magical items were products created by human mages through analyzing the rules of the world—

Then Curious Objects of Fire Theft simply ignored all logic.

Their very existence mocked the rules.

For example, the 【Opposition Silver Coin】 recorded in travelogues.

No matter what posture or how much force was used to toss it upward—even with strong winds interfering—when it finally landed and came to rest, it would always end with the opposite side facing up.

And there was also the brass-rimmed glasses called 【False Saint】.

Its effect was even more absurd.

Any part that the wearer subjectively deemed “indecent,” “disgusting,” or “not suitable for minors” would be forcibly covered in their vision by a pure black rectangular mosaic.

That mosaic had no physical weight, yet no light or line of sight could penetrate it.

This was what a Curious Object of Fire Theft was.

Chaotic, absurd—yet astonishingly powerful.

In this world, since the appearance of the first such object, the number recorded had already approached a thousand.

But within this vast base, about seventy-five percent were classified as “prank-tier.”

Aside from playing tricks or causing harmless chaos, they were nearly useless.

Another fifteen percent were slightly better, called “novelty-tier.”

Though their usage conditions were harsh, they could produce unexpected effects in certain specific situations.

And the ones that truly held value for collection and practical use were the mere seven percent classified as “practical-tier.”