Let MapleStory experience the Fourth Calamity

Chapter 68 Warrior Tribe

Putting aside its awe of the beautiful scenery of the Warriors' Village, the little snail continued its journey along the bottom of the canyon, which was covered with weathered gravel.

The deeper you go into the heart of this architectural complex, the more pronounced the raw and rugged sense of oppression becomes.

The sunlight overhead was cut into fragmented spots by the intersecting sandstone pillars, and in the shallow caves on both sides, the little snail could occasionally see a few natives polishing stone tools and processing animal hides.

Most of them were shirtless, their muscles clearly defined, their skin smeared with red mineral pigment for sun protection, scrutinizing the thin stranger with critical eyes.

After trekking along the main road for more than ten minutes, the little snail arrived at the deepest part of the cliff.

This is a transportation hub leading to the main urban area above, a giant wooden elevator built against the vertical cliff face.

However, the facility is currently at a standstill.

The little snail walked to the wooden sedan chair at the bottom of the cliff and looked up. The vine that was fixed in the stone ring high up on the cliff had broken in the middle, and some plant sap was flowing from the break.

"Why don't you climb up and re-thread the rope?" Looking at the few natives standing next to him fiddling with the elevator, the little snail pointed to the bundles of thick hemp rope next to him.

The squad leader, who introduced himself as Balu, shook his head and said, "The cliff face is weathered sandstone with no footholds, making it impossible for anyone to climb. We can only wait for the high priest to pray to the mountain god and for the vines to grow back in three days."

Balu glanced down at the little snail's arm, his tone carrying the arrogance of a local: "Outsider, your limbs can't even support your own weight. Go rest in the shade over there; God doesn't favor those without muscles."

The muscular giants of the Warriors Tribe are truly terrifying. Back in Pearl Harbor, I was considered a mountain of muscles compared to the NPCs there, but here I'm nothing.

The little snail did not refute.

He looked up, his gaze slowly moving across the hundred-meter-high vertical cliff face, searching for the contours and fissures of the rock strata.

It's hard to say what V-rank this route is in the climbing world, but it seems that my strength and skills are enough to handle it in this world.

He sat down beside the sedan chair and took off the coarse cloth shoes that hindered his toes from exerting force. He took out a spare roll of thin hemp rope, tied one end around his waist, and left the other end on the ground.

Next, the little snail took out two clumps wrapped in leaves from his pocket. He first crushed a clump of dry yellow sand, mixed in some small clumps of blue snail corpses, and quickly rubbed them between his palms. After the moisture evaporated, a layer of grayish-white powder remained on his palm to increase friction.

Then he rubbed the corrosive acid that had fallen from the green liquid onto the fingertips of his right index and middle fingers.

Amidst the puzzled gazes of Balu and the others, the little snail walked to the cliff face.

When he encountered a perfectly smooth rock surface, he pressed his acid-covered fingers onto the sandstone. With a subtle chemical reaction and the release of white smoke, the brownish-yellow rock layer was eroded, creating a tiny hole about half a finger's depth.

Insert your fingers into the hole and climb.

The little snail's body pressed against the rock wall, its toes gripping a tiny crack in the stone. Using these three points of support, it slowly and steadily shifted its center of gravity.

When he encountered a smooth area with a large span, he hooked one foot onto a protruding rock corner, folded his body in mid-air, then contracted his waist and abdomen, leaping upwards and precisely catching the newly eroded rock above.

The bottom of the cliff has quieted down; there's a good show to watch.

Balu and a dozen or so soldiers looked up. In their worldview, climbing was a violent activity of digging one's hands into the rock. But this stranger, without any large muscles, was moving upwards on the near-vertical cliff face in a way that defied their common sense.

About half an hour later, the little snail grabbed the edge of the cliff with one hand and climbed onto the platform.

His fingers were raw and bleeding, but he didn't rest. He pulled on the thin rope around his waist, slowly pulling up the thick hemp rope from the bottom of the cliff.

The rope passes through the load-bearing stone ring at the top of the cliff. One end hangs down to the bottom of the cliff, and the other end remains at the top.

"Tie the ropes down to the carriage, and then you can stand inside," the little snail shouted from the top.

Although Balu had doubts, he did as instructed.

The little snail tied the end of the rope left at the top of the cliff to an empty iron basket with a slipknot. He used a shovel to fill the basket with the surrounding high-density waste ore, and once the basket was full, the little snail used a crowbar to push it off the cliff.

The heavy stone basket plummeted to the bottom of the cliff. The ropes tightened, and under the pull of gravitational potential energy, the giant wooden sedan chair at the bottom rose from the ground and steadily ascended to the top of the cliff, hundreds of meters high.

The little snail inserted a thick wooden stake into the gear slot to secure the car.

Standing inside the sedan chair, Balu looked at the iron basket that had fallen to the bottom of the cliff and asked, "So how will we get down next time?"

"Have the people at the bottom of the cliff empty the stones from the iron basket. The empty basket is lighter than the sedan chair, so when people stand in the sedan chair, gravity will naturally pull the empty basket back up." The little snail pointed to the abandoned mine on the ground. "As long as the stones are not used up, this device does not require physical strength."

The power of the earth replaced the pulling of flesh and blood; this subversion of the common sense of physics silenced this group of robust warriors.

The little snail dusted off its hands and walked towards Balu.

"Stop daydreaming and take me to see your job-transfer instructor. I have so much experience to spare."

Is this overflowing with experience? What kind of outrageous and blatant language is this?

However, Balu put aside his initial disdain and led the little snail through the sparks flying from the blacksmith's shop to the giant animal bone tent at the highest point of the camp.

The curtain was lifted, revealing a burly man covered in dark red knife wounds rubbing a broken sword with a whetstone.

"I'm here to change jobs. May I ask how to address the instructor?" the little snail asked.

The giant didn't even lift his eyelids: "Don't worry about it, just call the martial arts instructor."

His gaze swept over the snail's hand, which was scalded by the acid, and his voice was hoarse: "Your mind is quite sharp, but your body is probably too weak to even hold a heavy sword. The Warrior Tribe doesn't teach craftsmen who only know how to use clever tricks."

call……

Before he finished speaking, he kicked up the iron pickaxe beside him, and the tip of the pickaxe cut through the air and pierced straight into the snail's face.

The little snail's pupils contracted, and it instinctively gave up resisting, falling backward to avoid the attack. The pickaxe slammed into the wooden post with a thud, its tail trembling violently.

"The response was barely acceptable."

The martial arts coach said coldly, "A warrior's dignity is forged in the crucible of battle."

He pointed to the deep abyss fissure behind the camp below, where thick miasma was billowing: "Go to the deep mines and bring back a piece of black iron ore with the highest purity. If you can't hold on any longer, shout for help. Don't feel ashamed."

Upon hearing this mission, the soldiers around him all lowered their heads and chuckled.

The little snail looked at the mine and thought to himself, "This is absolutely a perfect leveling spot! No one is competing with me for resources, and it's a top-tier dungeon where you can risk your life for rewards."

He got up, pulled the pickaxe off the wooden post, and reached out to Balu beside him: "Brother, can I borrow a light?"