I became the slime toy of the evil dragon girl?

Chapter 118 The Gift of the Gods

The minotaur squad leader's voice was unusually loud, so loud that Ian's body trembled with the sound waves.

The voice was so loud that Ian wondered if he was trying to sing folk songs with people from the next town.

Twenty minotaurs stood in a row behind him, their muscles gleaming in the morning sunlight.

Literally glossy, Ian suspected the cows had collectively applied olive oil before setting off that morning.

"Very good." Ian hopped off Vivian and onto a materials cart, patting the bulging sacks with his tentacles. "First, unload the materials into the designated area by the pit and sort them. Cement, sand, and tools should be piled up separately. Don't do what happened last time, where you piled shovels and grain together and ended up with a pot of rusty-tasting porridge."

"Yes!" the minotaurs responded in unison.

Unloading begins.

The scene was quite chaotic at one point.

A minotaur carried three bags of cement, each weighing at least 100 pounds.

He sprinted towards the storage area, then suddenly stopped five meters from his target and threw the sack to the ground.

boom!

Dust flew everywhere.

"Be steady! Be steady!" Ian's tentacles twitched. "That's material!"

"oh oh!"

The minotaur scratched his head, picked up the sack again, and this time gently put it down.

This time the movements were gentler.

Several goblins nearby tried to help move the small tools, but a minotaur carrying logs swept them away with one arm, sending them flying seven or eight meters. They flew through the air in a beautiful parabola before landing in the bushes by the pit.

"I'm sorry!" the minotaur apologized sincerely and continued carrying the log forward.

The goblin's grumbling complaints came from the bushes.

Vivian's eyes lit up, and she slapped the ground with her little paws: "Fun! Like whack-a-mole!"

These construction site safety management regulations need to be put on the agenda as soon as possible, otherwise the Happy House won't even be built yet, and the list of work-related injuries could circle the giant pit three times over.

After nearly half an hour of fussing, the materials and tools were finally put away. Twenty minotaurs stood by the pit, watching Ian expectantly, awaiting his next instructions.

Ian: "————"

Ian hopped onto a protruding rock at the edge of the pit and cleared his throat.

"Ahem, everyone listen up!" His voice boomed across the construction site through the megaphone, "Today's goal is to use multicolored cement to pour a circular platform with a diameter of twenty meters in that relatively flat area at the southwest corner of the pit. This will serve as the foundation and observation platform for the first phase of the Happy House project!"

He paused, then pointed to the bottom of the pit: "Pay attention to three things: First, be careful with your movements, don't just rush in. Second, remember to follow the blueprints! Third—"

Ian looked at the eager minotaurs: "Use your brains while you work, think about why you're doing it. I know this might be a bit beyond your capabilities, but at least give it a try!"

The minotaurs looked at each other in bewilderment.

Ian looked around and found that the baby dragon was playing somewhere, so he lowered his voice a little.

"Oh, right! Don't listen to Vivian! Like that abstract thing about making a platform into a slide."

"Mother of the Earth." A squad leader raised his hand, looking serious. "Our minotaurs' brains are mainly for holding grudges. Last time, Lord Angry Horn taught us how to calculate work points. We spent three days calculating, and in the end, we found that we had shortchanged two hundred catties of grain. We were beaten and scolded until our horns were crooked."

Ian: "————"

Alright, I can't just talk to a brick wall.

"Then let's do it exactly according to the blueprints!" Ian decided to give up on treatment and said, "Let's get started!"

"Moo!"

The minotaurs roared in triumph and charged down with their tools.

The way they rushed down into the pit didn't look like they were doing infrastructure work; it looked like they were launching a mass assault.

The hooves pounded the ground, raising dust and creating a menacing atmosphere.

Ian lay on the rock, watching this scene, and suddenly remembered a documentary he had watched in his past life called "Animal World".

The only difference is that bison migrate in search of water, while these minotaurs migrate in search of—the pleasure of mixing cement?

Just as the construction site was bustling with activity, some eyes were alerted from the direction of Honeydew Town.

Bingo Tavern.

The boss pushed open the dusty window and squinted at the distance.

He was still clutching the old monocular telescope in his hand, the tube still stained with jam that morning while he was eating bread.

-

"What's that noise—" the boss muttered, holding the binoculars up to his eyes.

Adjust the focus.

In my field of vision, there were many more moving things around the edge of that huge pit.

Minotaur!

Lots of Tauren!

They were busy in the pit, carrying gray bags, stirring something, and a few others were digging holes and driving piles.

The boss's mouth slowly opened wide.

The binoculars slipped from his hands, slammed against the windowsill, bounced up, and nearly hit his own foot.

"Gods above—" The boss picked up the binoculars, looked again, and made sure he wasn't seeing things. "The monsters—are back again? And they're still building houses?"

The idea was so absurd that his first reaction was that he was hallucinating, thinking that his business was going to come back to life.

Or perhaps I was hallucinating because I drank too much cheap beer last night.

But he only drank three glasses last night, and they were diluted with water.

The boss rubbed his eyes and looked again.

That's right.

The monsters are back, and they're just as bizarre as before, starting their civil engineering projects again.

They even started setting up makeshift scaffolding—using thick logs and vines tied together, which looked rough but was sturdy.

The edge of the pit was piled with gray burlap sacks, as well as sand, gravel, and timber.

"This—" The boss's mind started racing.

The last time they carried out construction in such a bizarre way, an entire forest disappeared.

but----

This time, the scale seems even larger than last time, with the materials alone piled up into more than a dozen small mountains.

Looks like this is a long-term project?

hiss----

As the effects of the inferior alcohol began to wear off, the tavern owner's intelligence gradually took over his mind.

Monsters have been working on this for a long time —

Wouldn't that attract a large number of adventurers?

They might even be higher-level adventurers, after all, those minotaurs are far beyond the reach of those greenhorn recruits in Honeydew Town.

If the monsters have some earth-shattering conspiracy, then this battleground, marked by repeated back-and-forth struggles and stalemates, is what it is.

So—does Honeydew Town have another chance?

This idea ignited in the boss's mind like wildfire.

"Resell? Resell my ass! My chance to turn things around has come! Lately, everything I dream about comes true!"

Now, what is happening is exactly the same as what I dreamed about; it is truly a blessing from God!

To not seize this opportunity would be blasphemy against God!

"Yes! Yes!" the boss exclaimed excitedly, slapping his thigh. "First, polish the signboard and clean the tavern thoroughly! Once their construction makes progress, I'll go and—test the waters!"

He was completely unaware that his expression at that moment resembled that of a gambler who had seen a glimmer of hope for a comeback; his eyes were shining, his mouth was wide open, and his beard was trembling.