Who Says I’m Not a Legitimate Adventurer?

Chapter 63: Ancient Goblins

After returning to the Adventurers’ Guild, Lance stated his purpose to the receptionist behind the counter.

Unexpectedly, the Guild Master was not in the third-floor office at the moment.

“The Guild Master is in the advanced training area. Please follow me.”

Led by the clerk, Lance passed through a side door of the guild hall and arrived at a sealed area separate from the main building.

This was the exclusive advanced training zone for professionals.

The clerk led Lance straight toward the innermost independent training room with the highest specifications.

Standing before the heavy metal door, Lance couldn’t help but feel a trace of doubt.

Back when he worked as a Scribe, he had heard some rumors about high-level professionals.

It was said that once one’s class level broke past level 10 and entered the extraordinary realm, the human body would gradually undergo mutation under the constant scouring of high-density mana.

For those at that level, simple physical training seemed to lose its meaning.And the Guild Master was said to be exactly that kind of powerhouse.

However—

“Boom!”

A dull, thunderous sound erupted from within the room, interrupting his thoughts.

Even with the room’s top-tier soundproofing, the noise still exploded in his ears like muffled thunder.

Lance could even feel the ground beneath his feet trembling slightly.

He lowered his head in surprise and saw that the dust along the door’s seams was bouncing rhythmically with each heavy thud.

This kind of movement reminded him of the hydraulic crushers he had seen in scrap car processing plants in his previous life.

Only when ton-heavy solid iron blocks smashed down onto fragile metal from above would such terrifying sounds be produced.

Was this really something a human could create?

The clerk seemed long accustomed to it.

He walked to the door and pulled a brass lever connected to the inside.

It functioned like a doorbell.

Not long after, the violent crashing sounds inside abruptly stopped.

Then came a hissing noise like a high-pressure steam valve releasing air. With a soft mechanical sound, the heavy metal door slowly slid open to both sides.

“Please enter, Mr. Raven.”

The clerk stepped aside.

Lance walked in, passing through a corridor into the room. Instead of the equipment-filled training ground he had imagined, what greeted him was a luxuriously decorated lounge.

A wool carpet covered the floor, and the air was filled with the scent of some calming incense.

Along one side of the room stood bookshelves, a wide leather sofa, and a redwood desk. On the desk were even chilled drinks and an exquisite fruit platter.

The office uniform the Guild Master had worn in the morning was neatly hung on a rack nearby.

Lance glanced around and couldn’t help clicking his tongue inwardly.

Not only was there a private bathroom, there was even a dedicated magical temperature control system.

Comparing that to his own training room, where he had to pay 10 copper coins each night for wear-and-tear fees and only had a few broken wooden dummies—

The gap…

At that moment, the door at the far end of the lounge leading to the core training area was pushed open.

Necros walked out, bare-chested.

When Lance got a clear look at the old man, he was surprised.

Although he already knew that the Guild Master was advanced in age, with graying temples—

His bare upper body showed no signs of the looseness typical of the elderly. Instead, his muscles were knotted and solid, like slabs of granite.

What was most shocking were the scars covering his body.

Large and small, crisscrossing scars spread across his chest and back like grotesque centipedes crawling over his skin.

Among them, several were especially horrifying.

One stretched diagonally from his left shoulder to the right side of his abdomen, the healed flesh thick as a thumb.

Another was at the position of his heart, forming a sunken, penetrating mark.

These old wounds silently told the story of the brutal battles this man had endured.

Lance couldn’t even imagine how someone could survive such severe injuries.

“Phew…”

Necros let out a long breath, casually grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his body.

He walked to the rack, took down his shirt, and draped it over himself, fastening the buttons while letting out a self-deprecating chuckle.

“I really am getting old.”

“I’ve only trained for a short while, and my body’s already protesting.”

Seeing that badge earlier today had stirred up old memories, prompting him to move his body a bit.

Yet helplessly, he found that the body he once took pride in had ultimately declined under the erosion of time and the burden of old injuries.

Necros rolled his stiff shoulders, producing a series of cracking sounds.

“If I really had to fight now, this body of mine could probably only perform at the level of an 8th-level professional at most.”

Lance’s eyelids twitched.

Level 8?

In this frontier town where even a level 4 professional could dominate freely, level 8 was already a deterrence-level force.

Was this the foundation of a veteran adventurer?

Necros finished dressing and returned to his authoritative demeanor.

He walked to the desk, poured two cups of water, and gestured for Lance to sit.

“Well?”

The old man took a sip of water, a faint smile on his face.

“That little girl today—was she troublesome to lead?”

In his view, having a pragmatist like Lance guide a pampered noble young lady would surely result in endless complaints.

He had even prepared himself to hear Lance grumble—or even ask for more pay.

However, Lance’s answer surprised him.

“No.”

Lance shook his head, his tone sincere and straightforward.

“She’s excellent.”

“Although she lacks common sense and her physical condition is poor, her learning ability is strong, and…”

Lance paused, recalling the girl’s performance that day.

“She has a resilience that many newcomers don’t.”

The office fell silent for a few seconds.

Necros looked at Lance in slight surprise, confirming that there was no flattery or perfunctory tone in his words.

“Hahahahahaha!”

The old man suddenly burst into hearty laughter, his beard trembling.

“Good! Very good!”

“You really are something, kid.”

At first, he had only admired Lance’s abilities. Now it seemed the boy’s character was far broader than he had expected.

As the laughter subsided—

Necros took a thin booklet from the desk drawer and casually tossed it to Lance.

“Here. This is the reward I promised you.”

Lance reached out and caught it steadily.

This booklet was clearly a handwritten copy, with no title on the cover. Inside were diagrams of the human body along with cultivation instructions for the Breathing Technique written in Common Language.

“This Breathing Technique doesn’t have a name.”

Necros leaned back in his chair and spoke slowly.

“When I was young, I found it in the deepest part of a goblin ruin.”

“Goblins?”

Lance looked at the booklet in his hand, his mind picturing those creatures obsessed only with gold coins and explosives.

As if seeing through Lance’s confusion, Necros corrected him:

“Don’t confuse the goblins you see now with Ancient Goblins.”