"We were gathering a bit of information, that is all," Cattaleya explained. "Things got a little heated with the guards, but we could not exactly start throwing punches inside a fort full of soldiers, could we? So, after a few taunts here and there, I suggested a drinking competition. Their pride would not let them back down, and one thing led to another."

She waved a hand at the piles of empty mugs as if they were nothing more than props in a minor performance.

"At first, it was just a simple contest," she continued, "but once I beat the first three, they brought in more challengers. Then someone shouted that I could not possibly handle ten in a row, and naturally, I had to prove them wrong. By the time we were at thirty, the whole place was cheering me on."

"And Elyon?" Lin Mu pressed, his gaze sliding back to the wolfkin who groaned faintly in protest at the mention of his name.

"Oh, him?" Cattaleya chuckled, leaning down to poke Elyon’s ear with her finger. The wolfkin twitched, then went limp again. "He got dragged in with the rest of them. Did fairly well, actually. Made it to thirty mugs before collapsing. That is respectable for someone who is not a body cultivator."

Lin Mu pinched the bridge of his nose.

Behind him, Monk Hushu’s lips pressed into a thin line, his brows furrowed in disapproval.

Finally, the monk clasped his hands together, closed his eyes, and intoned softly, "Amitabha. Such conduct is not appropriate for sensitive missions. Indulging in base entertainment at a time like this only invites danger."

Cattaleya, of course, paid him no heed. She threw back her head and laughed, slapping one of the guards on the shoulder so hard that the poor man nearly dropped his helmet.

"Relax, monk! It is all under control. If anything, this little display lowered their suspicions toward us. They no longer see us as outsiders poking around where we should not be. Now we are their drinking companions. Their friends!"

Her grin grew sharper as she leaned toward the group and whispered loudly enough for half the canteen to hear, "In fact, I can prove it."

She waved her hand, beckoning one of the guards who had been cheering her on moments earlier. The man approached readily, a broad smile plastered across his face. Unlike some of his fellows who had lost their bets, he seemed quite happy with the situation.

"Tell me, friend," Cattaleya said with mock solemnity. "Where are those suspicious bandits hiding? The ones who seem just a little too strong to be normal bandits?"

The guard straightened, puffing out his chest as if proud to share privileged information. "Oh, that lot? They’ve been spotted near the eastern ravines, a few kilometers from here. Causing trouble for merchants but disappearing before patrols can catch them. Real slippery bastards."

"See?" Cattaleya said, turning back to the group with a triumphant grin. "All it took was a few mugs of beer and now they are singing like songbirds."

Meng Bai tilted his head, raising a brow. "But why are these bandits of interest to us?"

Cattaleya’s grin shifted into a sly smile. "Because these particular bandits used to be weaklings. Barely able to hold a sword straight. Then suddenly, as if overnight, they gained strength far beyond their means. You know the kind of strength we’re talking about.

Rumors say they have connections with certain influential figures, which is why the guards here were reluctant to share anything before. But now? They cannot stop talking about it."

Lin Mu studied her carefully, then glanced at the still-groaning Elyon on the floor. He could not deny that the results were useful. Still, he had not expected Cattaleya to pull it off in such a chaotic fashion, nor had he expected Elyon to be dragged down with her antics.

At that moment, Elyon rolled onto his side, mumbled something unintelligible about "unfair tables," and then promptly fell back into unconsciousness with a faint snore.

Meng Bai snorted, unable to hold back his laughter. Daoist Chu simply rubbed his temples. Monk Hushu’s sigh of disapproval was so long that several nearby guards thought he might faint.

Lin Mu shook his head. "Only you, Cattaleya, could turn an intelligence-gathering mission into a drinking festival."

"And only I could succeed at it," Cattaleya shot back with a wink, flexing one bicep for emphasis.

The nearby guards cheered again, one of them chanting her name like she was some kind of hero.

Lin Mu exhaled deeply, but despite his outward annoyance, he felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. For all her methods, unorthodox as they were, Cattaleya had delivered results.

He only hoped the wolfkin would forgive her once he finally woke up.

Cattaleya finally decided that enough noise had been made in the military canteen. With the guards still chattering about her drinking feat and Elyon sprawled out like a half-dead wolf pup, she motioned for the group to leave.

"Let’s haul him up and get out of here," she said, jerking a thumb at Elyon. "We can talk somewhere quieter."

Lin Mu crouched down and hooked Elyon’s arm over his shoulder, lifting the wolfkin with ease.

Daoist Chu grabbed the other side, and together they half-carried, half-dragged him through the streets. While Lin Mu didn’t really need help in picking up Elyon with his strength, it would be a bit too unusual seeing someone carry the wolfkin like a chick.

While being carried, Elyon mumbled something about "round tables being unfair" and "next time I will win," which earned him a snicker from Meng Bai.

Cattaleya led them to the inn she had booked.

Unlike the grand courtyard inns of larger cities, the fort’s establishments leaned more toward compact, private rooms. Privacy was valued here, with so many merchants, mercenaries, and soldiers constantly moving in and out.

Still, Cattaleya had chosen the best room available, one large enough to host them all without feeling cramped.