This isn't a souls-like game at all.

"puff!"

Virgil snorted and bared his teeth in a horse-like grin.

Ye Yiyi nodded slightly and said, "Just find a cleaner stable and prepare more meat."

"meat?"

The middle-aged man was suddenly stunned.

Preparing meat for horses?

"Let's do it this way."

Halville also nodded.

Since Virgil is a dragon horse, it's not surprising that he eats meat.

As for the middle-aged man's doubts, he would not explain.

Besides, there was no need to explain. Only a fool would ask questions about the magician's strange request.

The manager of the Crystal Rock Tavern was certainly not a fool, so he would not ask the two magicians why they needed three upper rooms, nor would he ask why they needed to prepare meat for the horses.

He simply nodded heavily with a smile on his face, and ordered his servants to prepare the room. He then personally led the two magicians and a cowering servant into the store.

The first-floor lobby of the Crystal Rock Tavern is actually not much different from the taverns Ye Yiyi had seen before.

The mercenaries, with red faces and reeking of alcohol, were making loud noises at the table, spitting and boasting, with bursts of wanton laughter coming from time to time.

The air was filled with the aroma of roasted meat and malt, mixed with the incense of sweat and chestnuts, and finally turned into a smell called the smell of city life.

Ye Yiyi didn't hate this scene. Instead, she thought it was very lively and very characteristic of this era.

And Halwell has traveled all over the country and has seen all kinds of scenes.

Therefore, the middle-aged man who knew the old magician's interests did not arrange a private room on the second floor, but arranged a seat in the corner of the hall on the first floor.

In contrast, Eighty-Eight felt lost.

He huddled together, the noise around him making him dizzy. He didn't dare look up because the lively scene frightened him.

This bustle and prosperity were incompatible with him, as if it was another world that he had no right to set foot in.

He felt that he didn't belong here and shouldn't be standing here.

Thinking back to the streets and scenes he had seen along the way, he suddenly thought of the dirty, smelly, leaky shack where many slaves were crowded together.

He recalled the days when he lived with rats and cockroaches. He collapsed on the damp and dirty straw, scratching the crystals growing from deep in his skin with his hands until the blood flowed down his skin, soaking the straw and attracting the rats to gnaw on it.

In that lonely night where there was no end in sight and even despair no longer existed, he looked at the eternal moon in the sky through the leaky shack. It was like a dead, crystalline statue.

So he sat down as stiff and numb as a statue, looking down at the clean plates and cutlery, and the blurry figure of the waiter on the cutlery, while hearing the waiter's confused questioning voice.

"Your Excellency, what would you like to eat?"

Eighty-eight did not answer because he did not know that this question was directed at him.

How could slaves have the right to choose? They were the property of others, so naturally they had to eat whatever was given to them.

And his master, a miner, would add some strange leaves and roots to the semolina paste to give them strength to work.

Such food was not delicious at all and was not much different from slop, but it was very precious to slaves.

Because it can fill your stomach and keep you from getting hungry.

The waiter seemed to know this as well. He stopped asking questions and turned around and disappeared into the noise and clamor, as if he was going to prepare that kind of food for him.

Eighty-eight listened to the footsteps fading away, thinking blankly, and then his thoughts drifted even further away.

In the mine, the daily supply of porridge is limited. In order to eat enough, the strong slaves will snatch the porridge from the thin slaves.

But if they didn't eat enough, they wouldn't have the energy to work and would be whipped by the guards.

Being whipped means being hurt.

And being injured often means death.

No slave wanted to die, so when the slaves fought over the limited amount of porridge, the stewards and guards would laugh like spectators watching a beast fight.

At first, Eighty-Eight didn't want to die, and he snatched the porridge from other slaves in order to have enough food.

But as if to punish him, the more food he grabbed, the more crystals grew on his body.

Later on, his mobility became restricted and he was no longer able to snatch food.

But even so, the crystals that grew all over his body still destroyed his flesh.

Soon, he completely lost his ability to work and was carried out of town by the guards and abandoned on the roadside like garbage.

In this way, my life as a slave should be over.

If he died like this, it would be the way a slave should die.

This was what he suddenly thought as Eighty-Eight collapsed in the grass, waiting to die.

But at that moment, he suddenly heard a man's voice.

"Eat it, eighty-eight."

As the strange aroma penetrated his nostrils, a huge steak, the appearance of which he could hardly describe in words, suddenly broke into Eighty-Eight's senses.

He stared blankly at the steak in front of him, swallowed unconsciously, and then a large amount of saliva secreted from his mouth.

Is this an illusion?

Eighty-eight smelled the tempting fragrance, but still didn't dare to move.

He was afraid that if he moved, the food would disappear, vanish like bubbles in the sunlight, out of his sight.

Until he heard the voice speak again.

"Eat it, eighty-eight."

Eighty-eight suddenly raised his head and saw a man with shiny blond hair sitting next to him, looking at him with a gentle gaze.

"Eat it, eighty-eight."

Said the man he called the hero.

"I know you haven't had a full meal in a long time, right? So it's okay, eat it. If you're not full, I'll give you this too."

As he spoke, he pushed the steak in front of him over.

Eighty-eight stared blankly at the steak, then looked at the gentle expression of the hero. He was stunned for a long time before he spoke tremblingly:

"Hero, can I really...eat enough?"

"Of course, I'll find a way to feed you."

As Ye Yiyi spoke, she suddenly smiled as bright as the sun.

"After all, you call me Hero-sama."

"..."

Eighty-eight lowered his head with trembling lips, looking at the large piece of steak on the plate. He slowly stretched out his hand and grabbed it directly without paying any attention to the scorching temperature.

"Gulu..."

He swallowed, brought the steak to his mouth, and took small bites.

Then it got out of hand.

Looking at Eighty-Eight who was tearing the steak like a wild beast, Halville couldn't help but put down his knife and fork, turned his head to look at Ye Yiyi, who was crossing his arms, holding a hidden short stick between his fingers, and seemed to be resting with his eyes closed.

Then he raised his head again and glanced at the mercenaries in the hall who were attracted by the movement of Eighty-Eight. Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes and snorted heavily.

“Cough cough! Cough cough!!”

The mercenaries coughed one after another and looked away as if nothing had happened. Not long after, the hall was filled with heated noises again.

Seeing this, Halville finally withdrew his gaze, moved closer to Ye Yiyi, and asked in a low voice.

"Grandmaster?"

Ye Yiyi slowly opened his eyes, his calm gaze shifted away from the white ghost hovering above Eighty-Eight's head, and looked towards Halwell, who had a concerned look on his face.

"what happened?"

"Don't you really need something to eat?"

Halwell asked worriedly.

"I can't eat."

Ye Yiyi shook his head and looked away, watching the wandering thoughts floating above Eighty-Eight's head slowly fade away, then shook his head.

"I just ate porridge and was full."

"Muddy?"

The old magician was stunned. "What is that?"

"It's a food made with a small amount of coarse wheat flour mixed with water. It's unpalatable and almost impossible to swallow. But if you add some magically eroded plant roots to it, it will be very filling, but it will also accelerate the erosion and crystallization of magic."

Ye Yiyi explained.

"what?"

Halwell was stunned.

Why does this food sound like something for pigs?

Wait, magic erosion?

He glanced at Eighty-Eight who was wolfing down the food, then glanced at the hidden short staff held between Ye Yiyi's fingertips, and suddenly understood something.

So he swallowed quietly and asked cautiously.

"Master, did you just... sense something through magic?"

"Yes, I actually have a magic that can enter dreams and understand thoughts."

"Just now, I delved into the Eighty-Eight Thoughts and experienced firsthand what it felt like to be a slave."

Ye Yiyi fiddled with the dung beetle on his shoulder, lowered his eyes and sighed.

"Halville, if I want the Firebird Kingdom to abolish slavery, what do I need to do?"

"Abolition of slavery..."

The old magician pondered for a moment, then shook his head.

"There's a lot to do. The Fire Sparrow Flower's political system is very complex. It appears to be a theocracy, but in reality it's a feudal system of feudal lords. This is a problem left over from the previous dynasty..."

"Please keep it simple."

Ye Yiyi whispered.

"Keep it simple..."

The old magician frowned, pinched his beard and thought for a while, then suddenly his eyes lit up and he said:

"Simply put, the largest slave owners in the Fire Sparrow Flower country are the feudal aristocracy."

"Due to issues of doctrine and development, the Fire Sparrow Monastery advocates aligning itself with the Kingdom Alliance and does not advocate the use of slaves."

"So the simplest solution is to completely wipe out the feudal aristocracy within the Fire Sparrow Flower Kingdom. Without the slave owners, slavery will naturally dissolve."

"Is that a good idea?"

Ye Yiyi nodded thoughtfully, then frowned tightly.

"It's a pity that I don't have enough time..."

"Gulu..."

Not far away, a middle-aged man who was leading a wealthy businessman with a big belly stopped quietly and swallowed his saliva.

What did I just hear?

The feudal aristocratic group that eradicated the Fire Sparrow Flower?

Is this something I can listen to?

Then he suddenly noticed that the young magician, who was highly respected by Master Halville, suddenly looked up at him.

The middle-aged man shuddered, and hurriedly put on a smile, leading the businessman who was staring at the 88-eight who was eating voraciously.