At the village chief's warm invitation, [ Shit Appraisal Master ] and [ Good Times Don't Last ] entered Dragonborn Village.
The two breathed a sigh of relief when they noticed that the area indicator still showed "[Neutral Zone]". During the boring time on their way to Dragonborn Village, they had already found a detailed description of the area in the panel.
[Restricted Area]: An area that is not yet open to the public. Entry is only permitted upon receiving an invitation from the area's owner. If the area is unclaimed, entry can be made by forcibly breaking the area's rules.
[Safe Zone]: An area completely controlled by the current faction and friendly factions. You can freely enter or log out without causing physical damage. There is no danger in the area, but fighting and harming each other are prohibited.
[Neutral Zone]: The area of influence of the current faction and friendly factions. The body is likely to be intact when logged out. The danger level in the area is low to medium, and weapons can be used freely.
[Danger Zone]: An area completely beyond the control of the current faction and friendly factions. While logged out, the body is highly likely to be attacked by unknown life forms. The danger level in the area is high, but weapons can be used freely.
After reading the explanation, the two players finally understood why they couldn't enter many rooms in the castle. Those areas were officially designated as restricted zones, and it was unclear whether they belonged to unclaimed restricted zones or to the NPC Ed.
The fact that Dragonborn Village is currently still a [neutral zone] indicates that while they and the villagers can attack each other, the other side currently harbors no ill will towards them.
After entering Dragonborn Village, the two began their habitual photo-taking. The village's overall style resembled a town from a medieval work, except for a faint, oppressive heat permeating the air. Against the backdrop of the gray-yellow buildings, the two even thought they had arrived in a desert.
"This set design is truly meticulous."
[ The Shit Appraisal Master ] clicked his tongue in amazement:
"Now we should play some unique background music, so it'll be no different from the medieval desert town I've seen in other games."
[ The Good Times Don't Last ] He nodded in agreement, and then, led by his companion, entered a low-lying house.
After a brief adjustment to the suddenly reduced brightness, I was Good Times Don't Last to discover that I was actually in a clothing store.
The styles and designs of the clothes inside were almost identical to their original outfits.
"Did our clothes come from here?"
[ The Good Times Don't Last ] whispered in his ear, and [ the Shit Appraisal Master ] replied while casually pinching a corner of the clothes:
"If the production team really put in this much effort, then it's hard to say..."
He rubbed the corners of those cheap clothes one by one, as if he wanted to break them down into threads.
Feeling the texture of the coarse cloth, a question arose in his mind:
What are these clothes made of? If they're cotton or linen, where do these materials come from?
Just as the shopkeeper was about to kick them out, [ the Shit Appraisal Master ] suddenly asked:
How much is it per piece?
The shop owner was a short, stout half-dragon, with bulging dragon horns on the sides of his head, making his head look like a rat that was easily infringed upon.
The half-dragon pointed to the location of the [ Shit Appraisal Master ]:
"These, 80 copper coins each."
He then pointed to some clothing in other directions:
"These are worth 1 silver each, and these are worth 30 copper coins each."
The [ Shit Appraisal Master ] pretended to nod as if he wanted to buy, then asked his real question:
Where do you get your fabrics from?
As soon as the question was asked, the [ Shit Appraisal Master ] stared at the shopkeeper in front of him with great interest.
He had to admit that during their previous interactions, he had completely taken these NPCs for real people, but he couldn't be blamed for that—the NPCs in the game were just so realistic.
Aside from some differences in their way of thinking, they are almost indistinguishable from normal humans.
[ Shit Appraisal Master ] even felt that the NPCs in these Dragonborn Village were more intelligent than Ed. When people asked some strange questions, the guide would say a couple of clichés, but these half-dragons here seemed to have learned the essence of humanity.
He is now conducting a simplified version of the Turing test on the shop owner. If the owner cannot answer or makes significant mistakes, it means that the production team has not done a good job of refining every detail.
But if the other party's answer leaves him with no room for criticism... then he can only continue to enjoy it. What else can he do? Should he dig deeper and find the problem in the source code?
The two stared at each other for two seconds, then the short, stout half-dragon suddenly muttered under his breath:
"Buy it or don't, why ask these pointless questions?"
"All the clothes here are made by myself. As for the fabric, you're a merchant yourself, haven't you met any other merchants?"
[ The Shit Appraisal Master ] went through the clothing store owner's answer in his mind and found that he really couldn't find any fault with the other party.
In this worldview, it's clear that Dragonborn Village couldn't cultivate large quantities of crops. This premise can be easily explained by the use of merchants, and coincidentally, he's currently playing the role of a merchant, leaving him with no reason to delve deeper.
If he actually did that, the other party might look at him with suspicion and then question him:
"You, a traveling merchant, don't even know this? It's not a fake, is it?"
Seeing that the other person was clearly unhappy, the [ Shit Appraisal Master ] loosened his grip on the hem of the garment with an awkward smile.
"Let's look around some more; if this is the cheapest place you can find, we'll come back."
After saying that, he pulled up [ the Good Times Don't Last ] and left the clothing store, leaving behind the half-dragon owner with a furrowed brow.
He watched their retreating figures and whispered:
"It's not a matter of price... the problem is that I'm the only one selling clothes..."
Although they didn't hear the clothing store owner's warning, the two players quickly came to similar conclusions through practice.
The entire Dragonborn Village was shrouded in a continuous heatwave, which was not their illusion; the entire village resembled a giant ironworks.
Most villagers have their own small blacksmith workshops, making the fat man's clothing store an exception among exceptions.
This made [ Shit Appraisal Master ] wonder if, without that fat man, the entire Dragonborn Village, young and old, would have become as strange as if they had been playing an 18+ mod. Unfortunately, there are no such "what ifs".
After wandering around the village for a while, the two finally couldn't stand the high temperature anymore and returned to the simple clothing store at the village entrance.
The reason was simple: the variety of products in Dragonborn Village was far too limited. Considering the transport capacity of the "hundred-ton king," the two ultimately decided to take some lighter items, such as clothes, back to resell.
Unfortunately, this resource-poor village didn't even have any decent clothing styles. In the end, the two of them each bought ten sets of the cheapest clothes, intending to resell them at a higher price. After all, according to the style of " World of Disorder," the number of players should increase slowly, and clothes are actually very likely to be damaged during movement and combat.
This is when your own inventory comes in handy.
Hehe, who gets to enjoy this price difference so much?
It was me!