I became the slime toy of the evil dragon girl?

Chapter 119: Construction Begins

Meanwhile, in a more secluded place—

An unnamed underground wine cellar in Honeydew Town.

The air was thick with a mixture of musty and sour smells. Dark green moss covered the walls, and puddles of water on the floor reflected the flickering light of a few candles in the corner.

Three figures sat around a dilapidated wooden table.

They wore dark gray hooded robes, the hoods pulled low, obscuring most of their faces. A yellowed parchment lay open on the table, covered with intricate magic circles and runes drawn in dark red ink.

"The commotion outside—" the person on the left spoke, their voice like sandpaper scraping, "Will it affect the ceremony?"

"No," the middle man replied, his voice hollow, as if coming from a great distance. "On the contrary, it's better. Chaos will mask our fluctuations. Let those minotaurs draw their attention."

The person on the right pointed to a rune node on the parchment.

The hand was pale and thin, with long nails and unhealthy bluish-black tips.

"This place needs more nourishment. How much usable material is left in town?"

"Three," the middle man said. "They're all adventurers or vagrants that nobody cares about; nobody will notice them."

"Bring it over tonight."

"clear."

The candlelight flickered.

The three of them looked up at the same time, as if they had sensed something.

But they said nothing, and just continued to study the parchment.

On the corner of the table, a candle went out silently.

On the construction site, the project is progressing rapidly.

Or rather, the minotaurs are incredibly efficient at their work.

A circular area with a diameter of 20 meters has been cleared out, and all the gravel and weeds on the surface have been removed, revealing a relatively flat layer of soil.

Four minotaurs were tamping the ground with huge stone rammers, each strike causing the earth to shake violently.

boom! boom! boom!

"Calm down! Calm down!" Ian shouted from the edge of the pit. "You're laying a foundation, not smashing someone's head!"

"Don't worry, Mother Earth!" A squad leader looked up, grinning. "I've got it all figured out!"

"You've got a lot of nonsense!" Ian looked at the dust kicked up by the rammed stone and suspected that if they pounded it a few more times, the pit would be half a meter deeper.

On the other side, the cement mixing area.

Three minotaurs were frantically stirring cement mortar around a huge wooden barrel with shovels.

Their movements were perfectly synchronized, as if they were performing some kind of mysterious sacrificial dance.

"Proportions! Pay attention to the proportions!" Ian's tentacles twitched. "I'm not telling you to mix dough! The cement and sand have to be in the right proportions!"

"What proportion?" A minotaur stopped, looking bewildered.

Ian: "————"

I suspect you are swearing, and I have solid evidence!

He suddenly realized a problem: the minotaur might not understand the proportions he had drawn earlier.

"Never mind." Ian gave up struggling, hopped to the edge of the barrel, stretched out his tentacles and probed into the mortar, [Analysis] activated.

Ingredients: Too much cement, too little sand, water — is this supposed to be cement or mud?

"Stop!" Ian shouted. "Now listen to me. You, add two more shovelfuls of sand. You, add half a shovelful of cement. You—stop adding water! Add any more water and this bucket will become a moat!"

The minotaurs frantically made adjustments.

As Ian watched this scene, a familiar sense of powerlessness welled up inside him.

This feels like mentoring interns in my past life.

You say east, he goes west; you tell him to beat the dog, he feeds the chicken; in the end, you have to clean up his own mess.

After finally getting the cement mortar to a barely usable state, the pouring work began.

The minotaurs carried mortar in wooden buckets and poured it onto the foundation area where the formwork had already been erected.

wow~

The first bucket of mortar was poured in.

Then came the second bucket, the third bucket —

Ian stared intently.

The worst fear is that the project will turn out to be a shoddy construction right from the foundation.

[Analysis] With my vision fully open, countless data streams flooded into my consciousness.

"Stop! It's too high here!" Ian shouted. "Level it! Level it!"

A minotaur picked up a plank and scraped the mortar surface roughly and clumsily.

"Be gentle! You're scraping flat, not scraping bone!" Ian was horrified.

Vivian squatted by the pit, watching with great interest.

She rested her chin on her little paws, her golden vertical pupils moving back and forth with the minotaurs' movements, nodding occasionally, as if the dragon knew everything.

"Little Ian," she suddenly said, "they're so stupid."

"It hurts the cow, but you're right."

"But it's so much fun," Vivian added.

Ian: "

Baby Dragon's happiness is a little too simple and unpretentious.

The project continues.

The sun slowly climbed overhead, and the temperature rose. The Minotaur were drenched in sweat, but their morale was high.

For them, the collective labor itself was enjoyable, not to mention the opportunity to show off in front of Mother Earth.

While overseeing the construction, Ian also diverted some of his attention to monitor the direction of Honeydew Town using his special skill, "Puzzle Detective."

The tavern owner's emotions were most volatile at that point, but he wasn't malicious; instead, he was filled with a kind of—absurd expectation?

And another place—that makes me very uncomfortable.

The atmosphere there was dark and viscous, with a faint sense of familiarity, subtly similar to the cursed aura within Vivian's body.

There's no new information coming from Lilith yet.

Everything is going according to plan.

The bait has been cast, and the fish are tentatively touching the line.

What needs to be done now is to continue playing this "construction" charade, making it realistic and captivating enough.

"Mother of the Earth!" A squad leader ran over, his face covered in cement dust. "The platform is finished! Take a look!"

Ian jumped to the edge of the foundation.

The circular platform, with a diameter of twenty meters, is already taking shape, and the gray cement surface still has a moist sheen.

"Not bad." Ian rarely gave a word of praise. "Next, we'll do the curing and wait for the cement to harden. In the meantime, we can start preparing the materials for the next stage—bricks, wood, and—"

He paused, then looked in the direction of Honeydew Town.

"Also, we might need to deal with our neighbors."

The minotaurs looked at each other in bewilderment.

"Neighbors?" A squad leader scratched his head. "You mean—those humans?"

"Yes." Ian's tentacles tapped lightly on the concrete platform. "Building such a large project always requires some external support. For example, food, drinks, and intelligence."

He looked toward the tavern, his dark blue, gelatinous body gleaming in the sunlight.

"Tomorrow, we'll visit that boss who seems very interested in us."

"Let's see if he welcomes us or wants to turn us into beef stew."

The first day of construction ended in the evening.

The minotaurs packed up their tools, lit a campfire by the pit, and prepared to eat dinner. They had brought their own rations: hard, dark bread and cured meat, which they ate with plain water.

Vivian also got a portion. She grabbed the bread with her little paws and munched on it, making crunching noises as she ate, mumbling, "It's not as good as roast meat—"

"I'll get it for you tomorrow," Ian coaxed her.

Its soft body lay on the edge of the concrete platform, its tentacles gently touching the surface that was not yet fully hardened.

[Analysis] Feedback: The intensity is steadily increasing and is expected to reach the usage standard in 24 hours.

well.

As expected of this fantastical version of cement with added ingredients, even its hardening speed is remarkable.

The first brick of the Happy House has been laid.

But as this brick was laid, it was like a stone thrown into a calm pond, and the ripples it created were spreading.

Ian looked up at the town of Honeydew, which was gradually being enveloped in twilight.

A few lights were lit in the town, but most areas remained dark and desolate.

Only the three-story Bingo Tavern had warm yellow light shining through its windows on the second and third floors.

The boss seems to be doing a thorough cleaning?

Ian saw several figures busy behind the window, wiping the windows, moving tables and chairs, and some even climbed onto the roof, seemingly to check the sign.

"So proactive?" Ian almost laughed.

It seems this boss has really placed his bets on them.

Yeah.

Having a local guide who offers to help is better than having none at all.

As for the other observers—