At the Hei Yang Mercenary Guild, Roland and Sasha spent nearly the entire year taking on relatively dangerous bounty missions.

Over sixty percent were issued by Imperial authorities, thirty percent came from local civilians, and the remaining sliver? Shrouded in mystery—some things are better left unknown.

“Then—you take this side, we’ll take that!”

Tina pointed toward the opposite end of the crossroads.

Another Guild reception desk stood there. As mentioned before, the Hei Yang Mercenary Guild had erected four massive buildings at this crossroads.

After a brief farewell to the four girls, Thuke let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Ah~ Finally, no more jumping at every little sound.”

“Maybe this is only the beginning,” Roland murmured.

Autumnwater gave a soft chuckle.

“You’re right. But we’re already on a boat with no turning back. Reluctant or not, we’ve got to grit our teeth and push through.”

Roland shrugged helplessly. He’d faced many no-exit dilemmas before—but never one of this scale.

…

Inside the Guild hall, the space was arranged like a tavern. Profit mattered: mission commissions alone weren’t enough. Running an in-house tavern was standard practice. After all, over eighty percent of mercenaries drank—and that’s where the real coin flowed.

“Mister Roland.”

A brown-haired receptionist with shoulder-length hair gave a slight bow.

“Miss Ning, good afternoon,” Roland nodded.

She smiled warmly. “Good afternoon! Sun’s blazing today. What mission will you take? Still Grade C?”

“No… This time, Grade A.”

“Eh? Grade A?” She blinked, then quickly typed at her terminal. “So… the online Grade A request was yours?”

“Not just me. Meet Autumnwater—and Thuke.”

“Hmm… Both are registered… but…” She hesitated. The screen showed Roland’s trio’s data—hopelessly mismatched against the threat.

“Mister Roland, personally? Three of you can’t handle the ‘Lionbite Shark.’ It’s vicious. Five Wolf-rank mercenaries lost vital signs recently—only their dog tags teleported back.”

Each mercenary carried two dog tags: one etched with name and birthplace, the other with their Deity and Guild affiliation. Bonded by blood, they’d teleport to the nearest Guild upon the owner’s death—or if beyond signal range, vanish forever.

“Four more wait at the opposite reception desk,” Autumnwater added.

The receptionist fell silent, scanning the four girls’ profiles.

“You’re all so young…” Her expression tightened. “Please—don’t rush this. Even a Grade B mission is safer than facing a Grade A monster.”

“Send me the Lionbite Shark’s full data,” Roland said firmly. “Victim profiles, dog tag recordings—everything.”

“We’ll handle it.”

Seeing his resolve, she typed briskly. “All files sent to your ‘BingBing.’ Much involves privacy—please, as adventurers, honor the confidentiality agreement.”

Her tone had shifted. Accepting the mission branded them “adventurers” for its duration.

Roland pulled his phone from his Spatial Storage Ring. He rarely used it, but every mercenary kept the Guild’s official app: BingBing. Its feed buzzed with policy updates and cross-border news.

“‘Three Great Benefits of Becoming a Mercenary.’”

Thuke muttered, scrolling.

“‘Twelve Details New Mercenaries Miss.’”

“‘Comrades: You’re Not Alone.’”

“‘Can’t Win Solo? Form a Team!’”

…

“What are you doing?” Roland shot him a disdainful look.

Thuke jabbed his screen. “Reading BingBing topics! Like this one: ‘Stranded alone in the Thorn Forest after my team scattered—how to proceed? Urgent!’”

“No signal reaches the Thorn Forest.”

“Fake post fishing for clout. Guy deserves a ‘vacation’ there.”

“The Lionbite Shark… a land shark variant?” Autumnwater studied the image on his phone.

“A mutated strain,” Roland replied. “‘Swims’ through soft soil. Once it locks on, no human speed shakes it off.”

“Size, speed… and Grade A.” Autumnwater shook his head. “That young lady really picked the worst option. Any other Grade A monster would be easier.”

“How about we ‘accept’ the mission, book a hotel, and sleep?” Thuke suggested.

Roland and Autumnwater sighed in unison.

Roland: “Use your pig brain, Thuke. That Deity’s watching *everything*. Think she’d allow that?”

Autumnwater: “And if the Guild finds us inactive? Rank drop, massive credit score penalty. For mercenaries? Pure suicide.”

Thuke slumped his shoulders. “Sigh… So we *have* to go up?”

“But—can you *guarantee* we’ll escape the Lionbite Shark intact? No missing limbs?”

“After encountering it? No guarantee…” Roland scrolled the data, voice low. “But avoiding it? Yeah… I’ve got some confidence there.”