The Lord Demon King is Unfathomable!

Baruk glared with wide eyes.

"When did I say he was after money?"

Why do these guys not listen at all? Just now it was about the front line, and now it's about making money...

The whole Black Wind Castle is his, does he need to make money this way?

However, two fists are no match against four hands.

Even a silver-level Flame Demon isn't effective, let alone a Hell Dwarf without Extraordinary Power.

With the goblins chattering away, he was quickly drowned in their flood-like babble.

"I recognize this guy! He's a drunkard! Day-drunk and going to the Lord's Mansion for meetings, babbling about beer subsidies—doesn't this guy know he's asking for trouble?"

"Damn, this disgraceful fellow's the reason we can't drink!"

Baruk's identity was revealed, and now those hesitating Hell Dwarves were influenced by the goblins' momentum and sided with them, attracting more and more drunken troublemakers.

When people asked what had happened, they heard it was Baruk who dared to loudly curse Lord Demon King in the tavern, and they instantly stormed over in rage.

The tavern grew noisier and more heated, those seemingly sober acted as though they'd drunk a barrel of strong liquor, while the only truly drunk person was frustratingly clear-headed.

Baruk looked at these folks, feeling as if he'd fallen into a madhouse, speechless in his panic.

"Are you all freaking crazy?"

"I think you're the one who's gone mad!"

A flying oak mug smacked Baruk's head, sparking the first flame on the powder keg.

Watching this barrel-like guy fall, the goblins dashed excitedly to kick and punch him.

Baruk started off with angry howls, struggling bravely, but as the fists rained down, he lost his bearings, and his curses turned to wails.

"Enough—I was wrong! I was just talking! Spare me!"

The tsunami-like sound waves quickly drowned him out.

"Beat this traitor!"

"Sober him up!"

"Damn it! This beer tax is spot on! Otherwise, this bastard would've drunk himself to death!"

Baruk tasted blood in his mouth and buzzing in his ears, eventually tossed out of the tavern like a ragged sack, landing pathetically in the mud.

Those guys didn't dare cause death, venting their anger before letting him go.

He lay on the ground for ages, not catching his breath until a night breeze chilled him, spurring him slowly to his feet.

"What the hell have I done..."

Leaning against the tavern wall, he rubbed his swollen face, laughing sarcastically to himself.

He originally comforted himself, cutting down a drink or two wouldn't be so bad—he was almost accustomed to the tavern's horse-piss ale. Had it not been for the goblins' over-the-top descriptions turning horse piss into broth, he wouldn't have blurted something sour.

Now, he'd inexplicably been beaten up, not even knowing how he offended them.

Baruk leaned against the wall for a while, eventually limping towards home.

There's work tomorrow, he's got to deal with his injuries to prevent swelling and affecting tomorrow's tasks.

He honestly didn't care much for these things, after all more Magic Crystal Cannons wouldn't change his life, but he found that pondering them could distract him and ease the pain.

Baruk licked the blood from the corner of his mouth, suddenly tasting alcohol.

Perhaps a flying bottle leaked a bit of beer foam into his mouth.

The rich flavor was more intoxicating than the strongest liquor, strangely soothing his troubles for the moment.

"Unbelievable..." he muttered to himself with a smirk, a small contentment blooming inside as he greedily sucked in the air, letting his consciousness soak in the alley's pervasive aroma of beer.

Life ain't so bad.

Some beers got pricier, but others became free, unlimited and filling.

Suddenly he found favor in that enigmatic adult, like everyone else.

Such intoxicating flavor shouldn't only be savored by him...

…

The next day, the glow of the Magic Crystal Lamp Posts spread through Black Wind Castle's streets and lanes, the hangover-cleared Baruk swept away his usual laziness and fatigue, reinvigorated as he headed to the Magic Crystal Cannon Factory.

Nearby coworkers thought he was acting a bit strange today, who would get themselves bruised and battered on their doorstep?

Yet Baruk insisted he'd simply tripped; they couldn't know better, so they accepted it as so.

The overseer inspecting gave Baruk a look, noticing the bruised fellow working energetically despite his injuries, made a note of his name in a little book.

Especially since other Hell Dwarves liked to loaf, goblins even more so loved being crafty slackers, thus his diligence made him stand out.

Perhaps—

He could be promoted.

Goblins and goblins looked too similar, and these Hell Dwarves always refused to accept them, making management quite tricky.

Observing a few dwarves squatting by the wall taking a break, the goblin overseer cleared his throat and shouted.

"Get to work, today Lord Demon King is coming for an inspection!"

The Hell Dwarves rolled their eyes, disinterestedly getting up from the ground.