"No, I just realized that Blood Corpse are not sensitive to external stimuli during the day. We can simply smear the oil from the Oil Vine on them and then move on to the next one. There's no need to use an Oil Vine for every Blood Corpse."
"That makes sense, but won't secreting oil deplete your body's nutrients?"
"At least less than cutting off the need for regrowth."
"Okay, let's do it that way next time."
After discussing their plan, the two used blowguns to mark a few more Blood Corpse before heading back to their base to log off.
It was already evening when the two returned to the vicinity of the castle, and dawn was about to break in the real world.
[ With Lion Hidden in the Eyes ] eager to report his experience using the potion to the professor, the two parted ways.
[ The Good Times Don't Last ] He had an early class tomorrow morning, but there was one last thing he had to do before logging off.
After walking a few steps, he stopped outside a tavern that resembled an 18th-century Western from some other country.
He's going to sell some intelligence.
Pushing open the deliberately retro-styled double wooden door, [ the Good Times Don't Last ] I entered this building, which was almost a one-to-one replica of the tavern in "The Wild West". The decoration style here looks like a tavern, and the noise inside sounds like a tavern, but it doesn't smell like a tavern, because they don't sell alcohol here.
The World of Disorder does have alcoholic beverages, but the production volume is so low that there are no stable supply channels. There is indeed a tavern in Dragonborn Village, but the owner has a rather eccentric temper and doesn't like anyone transporting his alcohol elsewhere to sell, not even at a higher price.
This means that although it is nominally a tavern, it is actually a place where players form random teams near the castle, and most of the players who like to team up here are those who prefer to log in at night.
Because of the game's closed beta testing location, most players are active during the day, which often leaves players from other regions facing the predicament of solo queuing at night.
Under the terrifying pressure of the Blood Corpse, solo queue is really easy to die, and there's no one to help retrieve your corpse.
The change happened a week ago, the day this tavern that doesn't sell alcohol officially opened, and it also gained a group of amazing people who love cosplaying fantastical creatures...
Two rather domineering-looking half-dragons blocked [ Good Times Don't Last ] at the very entrance of the "tavern." He skillfully took out a silver coin as an entrance fee and handed it to one of them, thus gaining entry.
Under the dim light of an oil lamp, a bartender dressed in a somewhat cowboy-like style was wiping a glass of wine with a cloth of unknown material.
[ The Good Times Don't Last ] Sitting at the bar, looking at this person, he asked in a low voice:
"[ Gill's Cuisine ] isn't online yet?"
The bartender glanced at [ the Good Times Don't Last ] and said in a somewhat strange tone:
"I don't understand."
[ The Good Times Don't Last ] After hesitating several times, he finally found a suitable modifier and, suppressing his embarrassment, asked:
"Where's Sheriff Gill today?"
The bartender smiled with satisfaction and then replied in a affected manner:
"Oh, he arranged to meet a mature woman at dusk."
"Can you please speak like a human being?"
"His paper is a pile of dog shit; the professor wants to have a private talk with him."
[ The Good Times Don't Last ] He frowned slightly. In this small bar that was only open at night, the only person he knew was that foreign student.
So he looked at the bartender:
"Who should you sell that intelligence to?"
Upon hearing this, the bartender immediately dropped his frivolous grin. He folded his handkerchief, set his glass aside, and looked seriously at [ Good Times Don't Last ]:
"Dear sir, [ Western Sharpshooter ] is at your service."
[ The Good Times Don't Last ] I couldn't help but reach out and facepalm on the spot:
"You bunch of chuunibyou..."
"Sir, the cowboy in real life may be gone, but the cowboy spirit will live on here!"
"Alright, alright, let's talk about the intelligence."
"Okay, please go ahead."
"There are about two hundred of them, and the nearest teleportation point is an hour away. If you set off later, you might run into them in less than an hour. No special infected have been found so far. Twelve locations have been marked with fluorescent markers, so they shouldn't be hard to find at night..."
Speaking of which, [ the Good Times Don't Last ] I looked back at the group of guys doing performance art in the tavern. Some of them were dressed as cowboys in stiff, modified jackets, while others wore elaborately made clothes and pants stretched very tight, imitating nobles from a certain historical period. Still others had knightly swords at their waists and stood behind the nobles as bodyguards. It was a complete mess.
Most of those strange costumes came from the fat tailor from Dragonborn Village, who now resides near the castle and turns players' fantastic clothing ideas into reality every day.
[ The Good Times Don't Last ] He sighed and added another instruction:
"If you're going to take this rabble, you'll need at least fifteen people..."
"Okay, I've got it."
[ Western Sharpshooter ], who had already switched from bartender mode to cowboy mode, nodded seriously:
How about six silver coins?
"Seven coins, you've already charged me a silver coin for the entrance fee."
"There's nothing I can do. I haven't paid back the money for building the tavern yet. Seven coins it is."
"So it was built with a loan?!"
"Otherwise what? Where would a newbie like me get so much money...?"
"Okay, I'll tell you the address now."
He told the bartender the location of the group of Blood Corpse that he and [ Lion Hidden in the Eyes ] had found. [ Good Times Don't Last ] transferred three silver coins to his partner as a reward, while he himself sat at the bar, planning to log off there for the day.
Why did you decide to open a tavern here?
He looked at [ Western Sharpshooter ], who had already put down his wine glass and started putting on his gear, and asked.
"Maybe it's because I also enjoy going to bars in real life..."
"I can't tell, you look great."
[ The Good Times Don't Last ] For a moment, they forgot that the faces here weren't real faces, and the bartender in front of them obviously hadn't remembered this either, but smoothly continued the conversation:
"Of course, since I started playing this game, my dark circles have been getting lighter every day. Before, when I was out in bars, the police would think I was a nun when I walked down the street during the day... Anyway, playing games is really fun, but bars are nice too, so it's only natural that I wanted to combine them."
"Then why this old-fashioned tavern?"
"Of course, it's because it's fun. My great-great-great-grandfather opened a pub after saving up some money as a cowboy."
That sounds really good.
"Yes, if those two drunkards hadn't caused trouble and burned the tavern down, I might still have a tavern in real life right now."
"I'm sorry, I'll try not to laugh."
"Laugh all you want, I've laughed countless times since I was a child."
The bartender shrugged indifferently, and at the same time, someone walked out of the work area—it was [ Gill's Cuisine ].
"Hey, everyone's here. Oh? Good Times Don't Last, you're here too?"
"I'm here to sell some information. Don't you guys love these cyber-themed wanted posters the most?"
"Is that true? Are they sold out? When do we leave?"
As soon as he finished speaking, the bartender, fully equipped, pulled a cowboy hat with a drooping brim from under the bar, twirled it a couple of times in his hand, and then put it on his head.
"Now."