I became the slime toy of the evil dragon girl?

Chapter 128 Viscount Barov

Rewind to two days ago, about seventy miles east of Honeydew Town, lies Blackwater Town, the heart of the Barov family's fiefdom.

Blackwater is less a town and more a small fortress built around the estate of Viscount Barov.

Unlike typical border towns, this town was not chaotic. The streets were well-planned, and the shops were mostly weapon shops, leather armor shops, and taverns supplying the Viscount's guard and traveling merchants. The air was filled with the smell of rust, leather, and a faint stench of blood.

The town wall was built of neatly cut gray boulders, and atop the wall was a flag bearing the coat of arms of the Barov family, which featured a vulture clutching a gold coin.

Although vultures are not considered good things by most people.

However, Viscount Barov personally liked this creature very much, and since he was also a self-made millionaire, he chose this somewhat unconventional animal as his noble coat of arms.

At this moment, the atmosphere inside the three-story stone main fortress in the center of town was so gloomy it seemed like you could wring water out of it.

In the study, the fireplace crackled and popped, but it couldn't dispel the chill.

Behind the desk, a man in his forties, slightly overweight but with eyes as sharp as a hawk, was leaning back in a large, high-backed chair.

He was wearing a dark purple velvet robe made of exquisite materials but with a conservative style.

A large iron ring, inlaid with a huge obsidian, adorned his scarred fingers, which were now tapping intermittently on the smooth mahogany tabletop.

He was Viscount Barov, a powerful nobleman on the eastern border of the Ash Kingdom, known for his shrewdness, greed, and—a vengeful nature.

On the floor before him, a travel-worn scout knelt on one knee, head bowed, reporting: "—Sir, east of Honeydew Town, at the site of the former Sweet Forest, there is indeed large-scale monster activity. The number is unknown, but there are at least twenty minotaurs and a small number of goblins. They—seem to be building houses."

"Build a house?"

Viscount Barov's voice was somewhat high-pitched and had a texture like ice crystals, making it quite grating.

"Monsters? Building houses on the border of the Ash Kingdom?" A near-grossing smile curled at the corner of his mouth. "Have you found out who's in charge? Which blind monster lord dares to extend their claws onto my territory?"

The scout lowered his head even further.

"Subordinate—unable to confirm. The one directing the operation on-site is—a small, black dragon-like monster, possibly some kind of whelping dragon, but too far away to determine the exact species. There's also a ball of dark blue slime—"

"A whelp? A slime? Are you fucking kidding me?"

The viscount stopped tapping his fingers on the table.

The scout trembled, hurriedly saying, "It's absolutely true! It really is a dragon-like creature. Some adventurers say it's a young dragon! And that slime is very peculiar too!"

"A baby dragon? Bullshit! There aren't even enough dragons to form a pair outside these days, let alone a baby dragon!" Viscount Barov stared straight at the scout.

The scout's back was soaked with cold sweat. He didn't want to die for truthfully reporting the absurd things about the monsters, so he could only bite the bullet and say, "I believe it's a sub-dragon—and that slime might also be a shapeshifter!"

The Viscount narrowed his eyes, his golden pupils gleaming dangerously in the firelight, and slowly said, "My Windwhisper Cave slave-hunting team, a full twenty well-equipped private soldiers, plus my trusted lieutenant, Captain Gray. And they were all wiped out by these—laughable monsters? And the rabbit-men I painstakingly acquired were also lost?"

His voice grew colder and colder as he spoke, until it was almost squeezed out between his teeth.

"The intelligence also indicates they erected a wall overnight using an incredibly hard material? Hmph, nonsense! It must be some kind of illusion or low-level earth magic trick! Real fortifications require massive stones, enchantments, and time! What do monsters know about construction? A bunch of beasts that only know destruction and plunder!"

In the corner of the study, an elderly man with gray hair, dressed in a butler's robes, spoke softly: "Master, this matter may require further consideration. After all, Honeydew Town is nominally under the direct jurisdiction of the kingdom. If we directly send troops across the border and cause too much of a commotion, what will happen to the capital—"

"The royal capital?"

Viscount Barov sneered, interrupting the butler.

"Those gentlemen sitting on velvet cushions only care about taxes and banquets! Who cares about minor skirmishes on the eastern border unless they cause a huge uproar? Besides, these monsters are occupying the original site of Sweet Forest. Although it's a pit now, it used to be a place that could reliably produce Moonlight Honey Fruit and Silver Dew Berry! They've cut off my source of income, and they still want to build their nests under my nose? Do they really think I'm made of clay?"

He suddenly stood up, walked to the huge map of the Eastern Frontier hanging on the wall, and pointed heavily at the location of Honeydew Town.

"I must avenge the loss of Windwhisper Cave! And that strange material," I must get my hands on it too! If it truly is some kind of new technology or rare magical material, its value might far exceed that of those slaves!"

He turned, his gaze sweeping across the kneeling scout like lightning: "Go, summon Fierce Hammer and Shadowclaw. Also, select the elite men from my private slave-hunting team, assemble a squad of twenty. I need a true sabotage squad," not to fight, but to—"visit" our new neighbors.

The old steward's face showed worry: "Master, Fierce Hammer and Shadow Claw are both sixth-tier experts, among our strongest cards. Sending them to deal with a group of minotaurs and goblins, is that...?"

"Even a lion uses its full strength to hunt a rabbit," Viscount Barov coldly interrupted. "Last time, it was because we underestimated them that Gray was defeated there. This time, I want absolute certainty! I want them to completely destroy that ridiculous construction site, kill or capture that slime and whelp cub! If the opportunity arises, capture a few minotaurs! That kind of strength would fetch a high price as slaves in the mines!"

He paused, a cruel excitement flashing in his eyes.

"Remember, what I want is destruction! Make them cooperate. Bring mages, and ensure proper cover and counter-surveillance. I want those monsters to face annihilation when they think they're safe!"

"Yes!" The scout dared not say another word, accepted the order, and hurriedly withdrew.

The old steward sighed, knowing that the viscount's mind was made up; once his vengeful nature took hold, nothing could change it.

He could only bow and say, "Sir, I will prepare the follow-up support and supplies."

Viscount Barov sat back in his chair, his fingers tapping the table again, faster than before, revealing his excitement and murderous intent.

"What slimes, what whelps, and that laughable Wall of One Night?" he repeated in a low voice, his sinister smile growing wider. "No matter what you are, if you dare to mess with Barov, you'll pay the price. I'll use your corpses and prisoners to tell everyone that in the East, I'm the one who calls the shots!"

The firelight in the fireplace flickered—

The light cast flickering shadows on Viscount Barov's menacing face, like a vulture lurking in the shadows, already eyeing its prey.