Buck''s figure was agile, like a shadow in the dark, as he leapt into the deep, shadowy sewers from the vertical shaft.


    As his feet landed firmly on the brick floor, the dull sound of his footsteps instantly echoed throughout the vast and empty underground space, reverberating like the beats of fate, hammering loudly.


    A pungent, nauseating stench, akin to rotten eggs, rushed toward him with overwhelming force. It seemed as if the odor itself had life, sticky and wriggling, trying to force its way into Buck’s nostrils, attempting to suffocate him completely.


    Luckily, Buck had prepared beforehand, wearing a thick black mask, which helped to block some of the unbearable smell. He was further relieved to find that the sewer system in the imperial capital was extremely spacious, with walkways built on either side of the slowly flowing sewage, making it more navigable.


    However, this place was only frequented by rats and insects, with ordinary people having neither the courage nor the inclination to approach it. Deep within the sewer lurked countless dark and terrifying creatures.


    The first thing Buck did after stepping into the sewer was to quickly pull out a small bottle from his waist. His movements were smooth and practiced, as though he had done it countless times before. He then carefully twisted the bottle cap and slowly poured out a liquid that emitted a strange glow.


    This liquid was no ordinary substance. It was a concoction he had carefully prepared to attract monsters. After studying alchemy under the Hunter’s Guild, making such potions had become second nature to him, as easy as breathing.


    Buck steadily ventured into the maze-like and enormous sewer. Before long, vague, moving shapes began to appear in the darkness. Unusually, the once calm sewage waters began to make unsettling sounds, clearly indicating that some unknown creatures were silently and steadily approaching him from beneath.


    According to the city hall''s statistics, every year, a considerable number of homeless people mysteriously disappeared in the imperial capital. In reality, most of these missing individuals were dragged deep into the sewers, never to be heard from again, their fate unknown.


    The church was well aware of the severity of this situation and frequently sent hunters into the sewers to eliminate the monsters lurking in the dark. However, the sewer system was interconnected with the vast Lionheart River and various complicated underground water channels, which provided the monsters with a constant source of replenishment. No matter how hard the hunters worked, they could never fully eradicate them.


    Suddenly, a pale, skeletal hand shot out from the sewage, followed by a swollen, grotesque face that slowly emerged, exuding an evil aura. These creatures, like ghosts, quietly approached Buck from behind, attempting a deadly ambush while he remained unaware.


    A deafening crash echoed throughout the sewer as the creature’s attempt to sneak attack was immediately thwarted by a powerful strike, scattering it into countless fragments that vanished without a trace.


    Buck reacted swiftly, unhesitatingly turning his gun toward the endless darkness ahead. Without expression, his cold eyes locked on the shadows as he pulled the trigger. In an instant, gunshots rang out continuously, echoing through the narrow space.


    In recent times, whenever he had a spare moment, Buck would practice shooting at the church’s underground shooting range. After much hard work, his shooting had improved somewhat, but he was still far from being a sharpshooter. He wasn’t yet capable of pinpoint accuracy, but luckily, he wielded the powerful "Invincible Hammer." With this formidable weapon, he didn’t need perfect shooting precision. Even if his bullets hit the surrounding bricks, the explosive force of the impact and the shattering debris were enough to instantly incapacitate the fragile, low-health monsters, rendering them useless in combat.


    The monsters drawn in by the scent of the potion were a terrifying species known as Water Ghosts. These creatures typically feasted on the blood and flesh of drowned victims. Their claws were venomous, and while they were fierce underwater, they were nearly powerless on land, resembling a weak, ordinary human.


    The Water Ghosts soon realized that the seemingly ordinary human before them possessed terrifying strength. Panicked by the relentless gunfire, they scrambled in every direction, trying to escape. Unfortunately, their speed could not match that of Buck, who was now more ruthless than the monsters, his eyes blazing with fury.


    Buck’s eyes glinted coldly as he extended his blue Demon Creature''s Arm. With a swift motion, he ripped off one of the Water Ghost''s arms, effortlessly tearing it from its body.


    In the midst of this fierce battle, Buck continued to harvest more life energy. He knew well that no matter how small the gain, it was still a step forward. For him, every opportunity to strengthen himself was a chance he would never pass up.


    However, Buck was frustrated to find that after his Demon Creature''s Arm reached level 5, it seemed to hit an insurmountable bottleneck. Its potential appeared to be fully exhausted, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to push it further.


    Soon, after his relentless attacks, the monsters surrounding him disappeared. Even the rats and disgusting insects that usually roamed the sewer were frightened away by the noise of the battle, scattering and vanishing without a trace. What remained before Buck was a seemingly clear path.


    Now, he could focus entirely on finding the mysterious and elusive Sculptor within the vast, complex underground maze.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    As Buck carefully proceeded deeper into the sewer, he pondered: Why would anyone choose to live in such a dirty, foul-smelling, and dangerous place? This question weighed heavily on his mind, leaving him perplexed.


    What confused him even more was that someone living in the sewer would engage in business. It seemed utterly inconceivable.


    According to the information Doug had painstakingly gathered, the Sculptor sold his mysterious artworks. To find him, one had to carefully search for specific marks he left behind in the sewer. Once a mark was found, blowing a whistle would summon the Sculptor, who would appear like a ghost.


    Buck mused to himself: Could this man have transformed from a sewer rat? Why would anyone choose to live here and conduct such peculiar business? However, the Sculptor was not as easy to find as the rumors suggested. Buck had been wandering the sewer aimlessly for three hours and had yet to spot any trace of the so-called marks.


    The deeper he went, starting from the entrance in the South District’s first underground level, he wound his way down through the complex passageways for four or five levels. At this point, he had lost track of how far he had descended.


    When he cautiously peeked through some skylights formed by gathering water, all he could see was an endless void of darkness. Whether looking up or down, it was all the same, as if the entire world had been swallowed by the dark.


    Just as Buck began to doubt whether Doug had been deliberately misled, turning him into a complete fool, his attention was suddenly drawn to a wall at the corner. On that wall, a conspicuous red-painted mark appeared, and upon closer inspection, the mark took the shape of a mask.


    “Finally found it.” Buck couldn’t help but sigh softly, his voice mixed with both the relief of finding the target and a hint of exhaustion.


    He quickly took out a whistle from his pocket, placed it to his lips, and blew hard. The sharp sound of the whistle rang out crisply through the silent sewer, echoing into the distance. Afterward, a long and patient waiting process began.


    In the pitch-black darkness, Buck held his breath quietly, listening intently to the sounds in the distance. Faintly, he seemed to hear strange, creaking noises that were almost imperceptible. The sound seemed to be the rhythmic tapping of many appendages against the walls, sending chills down his spine.


    It was at that moment that he suddenly noticed, in the corners of the sewer, that dense webs had quietly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Seeing these webs, a sense of alertness surged in Buck’s mind: Could there be spiders here? And not just any spiders, but large and dangerous ones?


    As he hesitated whether to approach and investigate these webs, a sudden, clear, and pleasant ringing sound pierced through the silence of the sewer. The bell rang sharply, as if calling from another world.


    With the sound of the bell, something with a bell attached seemed to be rapidly approaching him. Before long, a dim yellow light appeared, slicing through the darkness like a sword, illuminating the corner of the sewer. The moment the bell and light arrived, the creepy creaking noises seemed to vanish as if by magic, leaving the area eerily quiet.


    The sculptor had finally appeared. He was a slightly hunched old man, carrying a heavy pack on his back. He wore a large round hat, with a thick, scruffy beard covering his chin. The brim of the hat was low, obscuring his eyes and making it difficult for Buck to see his true face. However, from the perspective of an observer, the old man seemed like an ordinary person with no remarkable traits and a very average life energy level.


    “Hello,” Buck said, quickly adjusting his own hat to make his voice sound deeper and more composed, greeting the old man politely.


    “A hunter.” The sculptor responded in a raspy, low voice. As he spoke, he slowly lifted a dim, old lantern to illuminate Buck’s figure. When he noticed the hunter''s attire from the Guild, his tone became calm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hunter.”


    “Mister Sculptor, are you still running your business?” Buck asked directly, without hesitation.


    “Of course, I am always at your service.” The sculptor replied quietly, slowly walking to Buck’s side. He gently set the heavy pack on the ground, then looked up at Buck. “What would you like?”


    “Firefly Stone Mask.” Buck simply stated the name.


    To his surprise, the sculptor immediately seemed to understand what he needed. The old man quickly rummaged through his pack, retrieving a palm-sized stone that glowed faintly, and then pulled out a set of delicate carving tools. With the lantern light casting a yellow glow, he began carving the mask with calm precision.


    The sculptor’s speed was remarkable, and his technique was flawless. Every movement was smooth and fluid, executed as if it were second nature. His skilled artistry was deeply ingrained in him, leaving anyone who watched in awe, as though they were witnessing a breathtaking performance.


    Unknowingly, several minutes passed. Under the sculptor’s magical hands, a small, palm-sized mask was completed. Buck, staring at the mask, noticed it was half the size he had expected and couldn’t help but feel a sense of doubt. He wondered silently: Is this strange old man messing with me on purpose?


    “Please don’t doubt it, Hunter. This is the Firefly Stone Mask you requested. The size, shape, and material are all correct. I carved it using the technique my teacher taught me.” The sculptor seemed to read Buck’s mind, as he spoke while handing the mask to him. Then, he began to calmly pack away his carving tools.


    “Wait, could I get another one?” Buck suddenly had an idea and asked.


    “You want two?” The sculptor blinked, surprised. After thinking for a moment, he took back the mask he had just handed Buck and picked up his carving knife. He gently made a cut down the center of the mask.


    The mask was neatly sliced in half...


    “What are you doing?” Buck asked in confusion, completely caught off guard by the sculptor’s sudden action.


    “My teacher said, if a customer needs two Firefly Stone Masks, we must cut one mask in half and give it to them. This is a long-standing tradition.” The sculptor explained calmly.


    Buck took the two halves of the mask, still unsure of what just happened. After blinking in confusion, he quickly recovered and asked, “So, how should I pay for it?”


    “You don’t need to. You’ve already helped me deal with quite a few monsters. That’s the best payment I could ask for.” The sculptor replied as he packed his things, slinging his heavy pack back over his shoulder, ready to leave.


    “Wait.” Buck quickly stopped him, his curiosity growing stronger. He couldn’t resist asking, “Aren’t you afraid that I’m here to kill you?”


    The sculptor calmly turned his head, his raspy voice responding, “A hunter, why would he want to kill a sculptor in the sewers?”


    Buck was momentarily stunned, then smiled and said, “Or perhaps I’m going to bring you back to the Guild.”


    “No, you won’t. If you weren’t here for business, I wouldn’t have appeared.” The sculptor said with finality. Then, with a soft jingle from his bell, he slowly walked away, his lantern light fading as he disappeared around the corner. Soon, only Buck remained, standing motionless.


    “Strange guy.” Buck shook his head in disbelief, inwardly sighing. He stowed the two halves of the mask and was about to leave. But just as he lifted his foot to take a step, he froze.


    Suddenly, he remembered something important he had forgotten. He should have asked the old man for directions back. He had to admit that, at this moment, he was completely lost in this vast, maze-like underground world.