Shoulder Kneading, Back Scrubbing, and Foot Washing

Whether he twisted off the Minotaur's head or not was unimportant to Li Ziran. He did not think he had done anything wrong, nor had he had any particular purpose. He simply felt that this person had violated the most basic trust.

Simply because he disliked it.

Li Ziran continued searching through the pile of corpses for any Elfstones that might appear. The current situation was unusual. These corpses were no simple matter. In his understanding, any Elfstone could only be produced by an Elven Archmage.

Though Elves were known as the race favored by the elements, an ordinary adult Elf was generally only at the level of a High Mage.

Between a Mage and a Magister lay a gulf like heaven and earth. Li Ziran did not know how one crossed it, but among the Elves, Magisters were already quite scarce.

Not to mention Mages a level higher than Magisters.

Such figures were treasures even among the Elves, yet two had suddenly appeared in this tiny basement.

That was highly unusual.

Li Ziran faintly smelled the ingredients of a conspiracy. These dozen or so corpses might have played the role of the down-and-out.

No matter how powerful one was, one would always fail eventually.

Of course, that had little to do with Li Ziran. To him, Elves were a distant race beyond his reach.

He wished these corpses were all Archmages—better yet, Title Magisters.

That way, there might be even more Elfstones.

Li Ziran searched for the treasures of his dreams, focused and steady, as though what had just happened had merely been a casual gesture.

Little did he know that the Horse Dwarf beside him had long been scared out of his wits. Looking at Li Ziran, he seemed to be looking at a demon that had seeped into the Wasteland.

The Minotaur's headless corpse still swayed at Li Ziran's waist. The constant sound of it knocking against his belt was like the death knell ringing for him.

He feared that he, too, would end up becoming a frog, his head twisted off with a crack.

He had not been a guide for more than two years, but he had heard plenty. There were quite a few Horse Dwarves who had vanished without cause.

It was said that once a Horse Dwarf learned information he should not know, utter disaster awaited him. Those gems shining with the rules of charm were clearly things he should not have known about.

Trembling with every start, he rummaged through the corpse pile while cautiously feeling the dagger at the small of his back. Though he knew it was futile, he did not want to be slaughtered for nothing.

Time slipped away second by second as chunks of broken flesh were separated piece by piece.

The Horse Dwarf's suspended heart never dared settle, yet Li Ziran did not say a word. He remained buried in the pile of corpses, carefully searching through it.

Even after the last piece of flesh had been checked, he still did not receive the merciless killing blow he had imagined.

As for the Horse Dwarf's thoughts, Li Ziran could not be bothered with them. He was feeling somewhat disappointed now. After finding two Elfstones at the start, he had not found another.

Sure enough, the more one gained, the greater one's greed became.

Two Elfstones were already worth a fortune beyond measure, yet Li Ziran was still thinking of getting more.

With the Elfstones collected, these corpses had completely become a heap of rotten meat. What he wanted most now was a comfortable bath to wash away the bloody smell from his body.

"Let's go!" Li Ziran kicked the remaining chunks of flesh by his feet and took the lead toward the stairway.

"Go?" Before the Horse Dwarf could react, Li Ziran had already climbed the stairs and lifted open the basement door.

The Horse Dwarf hurried after him, only to see a relatively slender Minotaur drying strips of meat.

This was the butcher shop's proprietress. At that moment, she saw her distinguished guest chatting with the owner, laughing and joking.

Especially when Li Ziran handed over six silver coins, the proprietress's face nearly blossomed into a flower with her smile.

After leaving the butcher shop, the Horse Dwarf's mind still kept replaying the proprietress's exaggerated smile and Li Ziran's calm, unruffled manner. The latter especially seemed as though he had never killed anyone at all.

He did not say a single word.

He did not dare.

He now understood that what he had brought in was not some fat sheep, but an executioner who could take his life at any moment.

Trembling, he followed behind Li Ziran, doing his utmost to appear obedient.

"What's wrong with you?" Li Ziran noticed the Horse Dwarf's abnormality. This person had just been lively and bustling about business, but now he was as timid as a Venetian rat.

"No! Distinguished guest, what are your orders?" He acted with great respect, terrified that a wrong word might expose a flaw.

"Don't you think a lot of people are looking at us right now?" Li Ziran asked with a smile, deliberately glancing at the bright red stains covering himself.

The two of them, soaked in blood, truly stood out on this street. Li Ziran especially had stayed in the corpse pile for too long, and his body was covered in filthy blood. The blackened, viscous blood ran down his wizard robe, dripping steadily like rain.

Mixed with bits of flesh, the blood gave off a nauseating stench. Even these butchers, who slaughtered animals all year round, could not help frowning.

The Horse Dwarf understood at once and grabbed Li Ziran's hand, pulling him into a nearby alley.

At least he retained enough reason not to lead Li Ziran into the bustling market.

Though Mading'er Town pursued profit, it paid particular attention to some people who stood out from the crowd.

At present, neither of them could be considered normal.

The Horse Dwarf knew where to take him.

After twisting and turning through the narrow alleys, they arrived before a mill dusted with red brick powder. The windmill above creaked as it turned, and from far away they could smell a distinctive fragrance of wine.

This should have been a tavern.

On the Wasteland, people always liked using mills as cover to take in stranded travelers, but for the Holy Spirits who roamed the Wasteland year-round, they posed no difficulty in identification.

Places like this mainly served laborers living at the bottom of society, and the clientele was rather mixed.

Li Ziran used to frequent such places, because they not only offered cheap hard liquor, but more importantly issued certain special missions. Naturally, one could also obtain urgently needed information.

When he had first arrived on the Wasteland, he had mainly gathered information here before collecting corpses.

However, ever since he had gradually achieved some success in organ transplantation, he had rarely come to such places.

The information here was obscure, and it was difficult to distinguish truth from falsehood. Often, after spending considerable effort verifying a piece of information, one would discover it was merely a lie someone had made up on the spot.

The people here might trade a sentence they had overheard at random for a cup of inferior rum.

The mills offered no guarantee. They only provided alcohol.

Of course, this was absolutely a paradise for rookies. If one was lucky, one could meet a Mage here. With just a little more luck, one might even step onto the path of magic.

After all, many bards and wandering mages liked places like this as well.

"Distinguished guest, this is the Windmill. You can rest here for a while," the Horse Dwarf said respectfully.

Li Ziran nodded and entered first.

The mills of the Wasteland were somewhat special. Ordinary mills only served drinks, but some mill owners added special terms before their names based on the elements. This did not mean the mills themselves possessed magical properties, but rather that they represented certain special functions.

An Earth Mill carried missions hired by small mercenary groups. A Water Mill meant healers or priests were stationed inside and could provide medical treatment. A Fire Mill was more straightforward, offering one-on-one combat services. As for the Windmill Li Ziran was in, its owner sold valuable information.

This information had generally been verified, and most of it was worth the price. Naturally, it had to be suited to the right people.

Knowing the mills' special code words would absolutely make it easier to survive on the Wasteland.

Li Ziran walked quickly. From what he remembered, a mill generally had three floors. The first floor held the great millstone, which travelers generally called the wine millstone. It usually occupied a third of the space. The windmill overhead drew in the wind from outside, and travelers sat beside the millstone, drinking in the breeze.

The second floor was generally where the mill owner lived, though it was occasionally rented to trustworthy independent tenants.

The third floor would be carefully decorated to look as luxurious as possible. Naturally, it could not compare with the finest inns, but it had a certain style and atmosphere, barely qualifying as private rooms. The price of such rooms was often much higher.

There was usually little business, but occasionally landing a few orders was enough for a mill owner to count as having made a small fortune.

Just as Li Ziran had imagined, except this millstone was larger than he had expected. When he entered, it was already half full.

Their blood-soaked appearance drew plenty of attention, but there were many strange people here, so people merely looked.

Drinkers would not meddle in others' affairs. On the Wasteland, there was no shortage of killing.

"Guests, this way!" The bartender greeted them with a cheerful smile and led Li Ziran into the basement.

There was a reason the Horse Dwarf had brought him here. This basement was even larger than the first floor, and the most conspicuous thing was the steaming bath pool in the middle.

Not every mill could provide bathing services. This was evidently a relatively high-end mill.

Once he entered the bathhouse, Li Ziran had no more reservations. He stuffed the thumb-sized bottles and the frogs on him all into the storage box, then soaked his bloodstained wizard robe in a basin of water and placed a copper coin on top of it.

A girl would naturally come to wash it later. In one corner were three Fishman girls, each with blue scales on her forehead and looking about eighteen years old.

They should have been slaves. They helped wash clothes and scrub backs, one copper coin each time. Naturally, there were some special services, but those generally would not happen here.

Anyone with sense would usually rent a private room on the second floor. It was closer to the windmill there, making things more convenient.

Once everything was settled, Li Ziran executed a fish leap and plunged straight into the pool. In an instant, it seemed as though every pore on his body had opened. Countless currents of heat spread through his entire body along his neural network. When he surfaced, the exhaustion throughout his body had almost been washed away.

He lazily leaned against the side of the bath pool and happened to see the Horse Dwarf in the corner scrubbing his own clothes.

They could not bear to spend a copper coin on patronizing the business.

Li Ziran merely glanced over, then crooked a finger at one of the Fishman girls in the corner. She understood at once and ran over. Li Ziran placed three copper coins beside the pool.

Shoulder kneading, back pounding, foot washing.

The standard Wasteland rate.

Delicate, smooth little hands slowly kneaded the nerves in Li Ziran's shoulders. The soreness carried a trace of numbness, and where the two forces met, they formed a wave of comfort.

The technique is average!

Li Ziran judged inwardly. He could still tell that she had some skill, but compared with a professional masseuse, she was far too lacking. She was worth no more than one copper coin.

Even so, it counted as luxury. The other creatures soaking in the bath pool with him all stared longingly at the Fishman girl behind him.

Three copper coins. Add another three, and one could find a secluded corner to communicate a little.

Li Ziran had no interest right now. He could not stand the fishy smell on the Fishman girl, and he was not short of money. This gentle massage was just right.

Just as he closed his eyes to enjoy it, he heard the sound of a wine cup landing beside his ear.

Opening his eyes, he saw a Wolf. The other man was looking at him with considerable interest. "Want a drink, friend?"

Li Ziran recognized him. He was the Wolf who had bought his Goathead Chief. They could barely be considered acquainted.

"How's that goat doing?"

"What else? Tortured for a while, then sent to the Gray Dwarves' mine." He gave Li Ziran a glance and casually explained, then set the wine cup beside the bath pool. "Friend, could you help me with something?"