The Eastern Continent, the vast Titan Mountains in the north, is hidden in the ancient forest, a remote corner.

A dwarf, carrying a carriage, walked slowly. He had walked this way home countless times, and he could easily avoid the beasts of the jungle and the equally vulgar dwarves, but there were some things, once he came home, it was inevitable after all. Soon, a camp appeared in front of him, with sparse bunkers and huts, and a constant smoke and fireworks, almost indistinguishable from when he was born, seventy years ago.

"Hey, isn't that a soft egg?"

"Brothers, our soft eggs are back."

"Hahaha......"

The camp, young and old, even the underage dwarves who were not yet fifty years old, laughed at him with impunity. And Dwalin was just expressionless, accustomed to ten years of inferior ridicule, and not even interested in explaining. Someone jumped onto his wagon and rummaged through the cargo he had brought back.

"I say, Devalin, why are these things, cheese, ale, these things don't have you to do business."

"Hahaha, I guess it's all unsellable waste, so I can only pull it back."

"Hahaha, poor Dvalin."

A majestic dwarf walked up to Dwarin's side and asked in a loud voice: "Dwarin, the tribe has found another deposit, there are many deposits in it, the patriarch is looking for someone, the pay is very high, and there is free ale, why don't you go out and sell these things, you can make more money than these." ”

"Smack!"

An old dwarf with a beard almost falling to the ground slapped the young man on the head with a snort, almost knocking him to the ground.

"You kid didn't let the earth dragon kick in his brain, it takes strength to open a mine, and you have to go through the sling hanging in mid-air, you want Dvalin's life, I'll kill you little bastard."

"Hahahaha......"

Dwalin laughed at every dwarf he passed by like a peerless joke, and even he occasionally smiled, not at himself, but at the pity of the men.

This is his hometown, where he was born. The Titan Mountains are too vast, and the veins in them are extremely rich. If one of them can be found in abundance, it will soon take root for the next tribe, and there are not many small tribes like them in the entire Titan Mountains. Luckily, they had been stationed in the same place for more than three generations, nearly a thousand years for a dwarf to live up to four hundred years. Now the tribe has discovered new deposits, which means they can live in the land for a longer period of time.

Soon, he was in the middle of the camp, set up the wagon, and set out on the descending ropeway with only a basket of rags. Having been stationed for nearly a thousand years, even if the dwarves are not very fertile, this place is already close to breaking through 10,000 people, and it is impossible to have only the dilapidated camp on the ground. Because the dwarves are the children of the elves of the earth, they prefer the land, and the beautiful deposits in it, and they often build their homes underground, using the mined tunnels to build extremely complex paths, and use chains and ladders to traverse them. The same is true of their Dark Furnace tribes, and the world below is a thousand times wider than the earth. If outsiders come here without guidance, they will only get lost in the seemingly endless tunnels, or accidentally fall directly into the endless mountain abyss.

De Walling was familiar with the road and did not hesitate to change lanes. Although he doesn't spend more than two months in the Dark Furnace Tribe every year, the mine tunnels in the upper echelons of the tribe have been formed for a long time, and they won't be rerouted. Only to the lower level. He was unfamiliar with the abandoned mines of the last decade, but he had rarely been there. He moved quickly and without hesitation, but it still took more than half an hour to reach the residential area.

Most of the houses here are made of stone from the mines, all of which are gray-black, and the miner's lamps illuminate this place as if it were daytime, without the feeling of walking in the mountains. The settlements were not large, only twenty or so rooms, and there were many, many more places like this, and they were mostly distinguished by their proximity, as long as the warrior camps and forge of the tribe would gather a large number of dwarves, and most of the outlying settlements were like this. Soon, Dwalin came to his little house and walked inside. He doesn't live here because he has a good relationship with anyone, but most of the people here are not very liked by the dwarves of the tribe, and no one dislikes anyone. Like the old drunkard he had just met head-on, he was only stunned when he saw Dwalin, nodded, and then drank to himself. It's a lot better than the constant ridicule outside, at least quieter.

Even if it was a terrible place, Dwalin was relieved when he stepped through the door. He closed the door, put down the wooden frame filled with all kinds of tatters, and collapsed on the sofa in the living room.

"Hoo ......"

He let out a comfortable moan, and the exhaustion of the journey crept up his countenance, and soon there was the sound of even breathing.

"Knock knock! Knock knock! ”

Devalin's dream was interrupted by a rude knock on the door, and he shook his head helplessly, but without pause he decided to stand up and open the door.

The man who had come was a little shorter than Dwarin, but much stronger, and as soon as the door opened, he squeezed in, and the smell of the nose immediately greeted him. Dwalin couldn't even tell what it smelled like, let alone how long it had been since the unidentified color of the garment had been washed.

"Smack." A huge lamb chop slapped on the table in the living room, taking up almost half of the space.

"Look at you like this, you haven't made any money, have you? I said if you are sick, you can't keep the mines open, what kind of bullshit business you are," the man said as he kicked the wooden box that Dvalin had brought back and put on the ground, "even picking up stones in the waste veins can do better than you." ”

Ignoring the other party's rude invective, Dwalin smiled instead, this time no longer mocking. He took out a hand towel and wiped the saliva from his face, and said, "There are also benefits to doing business, which cannot be exchanged for picking up stones." ”

As he spoke, he walked into the kitchen next to the hall, looking to rummage through something. When he came out, he was already carrying a bottle in his hand.

"Let's say this."

The old dwarf almost snatched the bottle from it, his eyes wide as he stared at the unintelligible words on it, and he suspected that it was another piece of that Dwalin had retrieved.

"Old fellow, this is ale, do you look at it with your eyes?"

The old dwarf cut off, "Such a small bottle is not enough for a cup." With that, he uncorked the bottle and poured it into his mouth.

The sound of drinking sounded, but it was a long time coming. The old dwarf looked at the bottle in his hand in disbelief, as if he had seen some devil, but the eyebrows on his face fluttered.

"Hmph, it's almost the same as my own brew, and this broken wine is a good thing."

The words were still the same, but the old dwarf's tone was similar to muttering, which revealed his true thoughts. Dwalin smiled but didn't say a word.

"Laugh fart, this ...... Is there any such thing? ”

Dwarin pointed to the kitchen, "There's still a small keg, you can drink it leisurely, it's gone, you'll have to see it next time you come back." ”

The old dwarf stepped into the kitchen in a few steps, and when he came out with a small wooden bucket under his arm, he did not say hello, and went out of the house with a cold snort, but did not forget to bring the door.

Dwarin didn't care, the only one who would come to him was this old fellow, and he fell into the sofa again, this time he could really rest, just looking at the huge lamb chops on the table not far away, a little worried.