The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1183 (Ch.1182) In the Tavern

"Quickly made" refers to stewed fish.

'Well done' is stewed pork.

'Long-eared Gudu' is a mushroom soup served in four long-eared bowls—sticking out tongues—and four glasses of dark brown whiskey.

Let’s not talk about the other things for now.

Roland valued sticking out his tongue the most.

He wanted to see just how terrible it was.

"I'm going to drink it all down, Theodore, Lulu, Harida. Remember to save me..."

Then Rupert called the boy over, asked for a beer keg, and pushed it in front of Roland—which even amused the man who was losing the game.

of course.

When Rupert noticed this, she immediately became reserved again, clearing her throat without phlegm and tilting her head back like a swan, seemingly indifferent.

then.

Roland indeed drank it all in one gulp.

The three of them immediately stared intently at his face, wondering if drinking this dark, almost black, ghostly substance would turn them into frogs.

Roland's expression remained unchanged.

A few seconds later.

He kept his mouth shut, shook his head, pointed to the other three cups, and then to the owner of those three cups.

Harida, Rupert, Theodore.

'The taste is absolutely amazing…'

That's what he meant.

Harida's eyes darted around—as Roland Collins's personal maid, she had seen similar expressions far too many times…

Usually, after this expression, either Rose or Xander falls for it.

She silently pinched the small wooden cup, pretending to hold it to her lips, but didn't pour anything in.

Theodore and Rupert were clearly not as familiar with Roland as Harida. Seeing him gulp it down several times like he was drinking red wine, they also thought the drink was overrated, and took a small bite themselves.

Then three passengers with their tongues sticking out immediately appeared on the table.

"Hahahahahaha!"

The two men playing chess no longer cared about winning or losing; they just kept laughing and slapping the table—as annoying as the old bartender behind the counter.

“I should…I should…Pah…Pah! Roland Collins! How could you, how could you…”

Rupert is about to die from the spiciness.

Even livestock would probably dislike this.

Harida silently produced a handkerchief and handed it to Rupert across the table—the latter didn't appreciate it and glared at her.

"This is not whiskey at all!"

“It’s hard to say, Lulu. At least I admit this wine has magic; it can give you the feeling of a hunting dog…” Roland raised his hand to the boy, ordering four glasses of 'clear, chilled, and non-gulping'…

It's just ordinary water.

The boy looked at him with surprise: "Your naming skills... are really not very good."

“He also said I’m not very good!” Roland’s eyes widened.

The two chess spectators nodded vigorously: "You've made things more complicated, sir. Look at little John's level; everything is simple and easy to understand—sticking out the tongue is sticking out the tongue, doing something quickly is doing something quickly..."

Roland thought for a moment: "Then the clear water should be called 'free of charge'?"

“No, sir. A small bowl of boiled green beans here costs nothing… just a small bowl.”

"'Free of charge'?"

The man playing chess stared at Roland for a while and said, "...You really don't have that talent."

Halida, standing to the side, wholeheartedly agreed.

Roland asked suspiciously, "You don't actually call a downpour 'splashing down without costing money,' do you?"

The man was both amused and exasperated: "Then let's call it 'Rainstorm,' sir. Only little John would come up with such a strange name, surely we'll be able to talk things out then?"

That's hard to say.

Based on Rupert's observations along the way, the entire mining town of Ilser was full of strange and unusual people.

"So, you're from London?" The loser finally threw down his chess piece and turned to face Roland—he was clearly not very old, around forty years old.

"Because of our accents?" Rupert asked.

"Because of your attire. Your accent...don't Londoners have anything else to show off besides their accent?"

“And…” Rupert glanced at the dead fish on the table, “and all sorts of delicious dishes.”

Good dish.

The chess piece man muttered, "I bet the guy who created these 'delicious dishes' must be some Frenchman who married a London woman and just became an imperial citizen..."

well.

It seems no one in this town knows how to have a 'friendly conversation'.

"A gold mine? Or immortality?"

he asked again.

“A gold mine without a doubt, sir,” Dave Lawrence thought to himself, finally it was his turn, as he wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “I’ve heard the gold mine here hasn’t been exhausted, is that true?”

The chess piece man leaned on the table, turning a queen in his hand over and over, rubbing it back and forth, and said with amusement, "If we really haven't exhausted all the gold, why don't we dig some out ourselves instead of handing it over to outsiders?"

Dave patted his chest: “Because we are professional enough, gentlemen. Now, before you stands one of the Empire’s top jewelers, a jewelry connoisseur, the organizer of numerous major auctions in London, the owner of three gold shops, and formerly a shareholder in two silver mines—”

Before he could finish speaking, the men on either side of the chessboard began whispering to each other:
'Is he rich enough?'

That's enough.

'Is this him?'

'That's him.'

'Should we make our move now? Or wait until they separate?'

'Now.'

'Now? In Little John's tavern?'

'Now.'

The murmurs weren't quiet, and the two tables were quite close together.

So when the two men slammed their fists on the table and suddenly launched their attack, Dave Lawrence immediately began to whine and howl like a wild donkey unwilling to be driven, his cries filled with 'thank you' and 'Oh God!'—

This time, Rupert and Lawrence were also amused.

"In my opinion, sir, flaunting one's property and wealth to strangers is tantamount to wearing a sign around one's neck that says 'Come and rob me!'"

After the performance, one of them patted his chest and bowed in acknowledgment, while the other picked up his glass, stuck out his tongue, and drank it all in one gulp.

Roland even clapped along in perfect unison.

"The gold mine has long been exhausted, Mr. Jewelry. You're too late."

Who is 'Mr. Jewelry'? How can this guy be so tactless? Dave Lawrence sulked and wiggled his sore, fat buttocks—the chair was too narrow.

"Maybe there are still some 'residues'? Perhaps there's still a lot undiscovered deep inside? I've spoken with businessmen who came here to pan for gold before, and there weren't any more specialized experts present... Maybe... maybe..."

The man shrugged. "Maybe? I don't know, sir. You can ask Bruno Mondes. He knows best about this."

Dave Lawrence asked in bewilderment, "You guys don't seem to care at all?"

"What do you care about? The gold mine?" The chess piece man was equally puzzled—a genuine and heartfelt question.

What's so great about a gold mine?
"I just hope the gold miners dig quickly and leave as soon as possible, and don't linger in town—it's so noisy, we couldn't sleep well during the days when the gold mine appeared."

This really puzzled Dave.

"Don't you plan to sell anything? Shovels, basket weaving, raising the prices of food, lodging, and water carts... You could also get a lot of portable food..."

The two men were not very interested.

“You’re not the first person to say that. Let’s put it this way, we don’t lack that little bit of money.”

Not short of money?
Dave Lawrence looked the two men up and down.

To be honest, they are living a peaceful and stable life—they don't lack money.

These two people just exude an aura of 'poverty' no matter how you look at them.

“That’s enough, sir. Aside from food and drink, which cost a little, air and sunshine are free… what reason is there for us to risk our lives to find gold?” The two men smiled at each other, as happy as children who never grew up.

Dave Lawrence was sweating even more.

He thought he would probably never understand them.

(End of this chapter)