T0 Gaming Guild Saves the World

The calf muscles are sculpted like bronze sculptures, creating a stunning contrast between the robust and powerful physique and the delicate features of the face.

Although I don't quite understand what the strange clothes that Ma Niang is wearing, with their excellent body-shaping effect, are called, the parts that cling to her body and are barely visible because they are soaked in sweat... can be drawn with such texture even without color.

Is this the skill of a master?

The client present was certain that he was a normal person and had no interest in horses.

After looking at the delicate and charming horse girls in the illustrations for a long time, and then looking at the horses in the paintings...

How come you have such delicate features?

Without using magic, but solely through pure technique, one can influence a person's mind and distort their perception.

After that day, the praise for the master jailer among the nobles reached a new level.

During these four months, the jailer basically did not leave the manor. Ordinary painters need a constant source of material to create a masterpiece that combines art and reality on the canvas.

But the jailer seems to have an inexhaustible supply of inspiration.

When he heard that he wanted to source materials to satisfy those eccentric nobles, Count Clytek was relieved—it turned out that the resources were not truly inexhaustible.

He held onto his understanding.

Count Clytem asked, "Would you like to go out?"

"Of course, how can a photo-taking device compare to touching it in person?"

The request was made in the morning, and Count Clitten prepared a list for the jailer in the afternoon, covering families with experience in taming beasts and merchants who had long been engaged in the business of monster taming.

As the jailer flipped through the list, his gaze suddenly froze.

Grian?

Isn't this Renee's family?

He asked casually, "Grian, the famous magical family of Anna? Do they also have a business in animal taming?"

Count Clytek smiled and explained, "The Grelian family doesn't participate in the monster taming trade, but pack animals are an exception. They have close ties with several major families. In addition to assisting in training the pack animals, they also screen out some unqualified individuals."

After some explanation, the jailer understood.

"Beast of the pack" is a collective term for many monsters with high carrying capacity and high endurance, not a single individual.

Training pack animals with a natural sensitivity to minerals to mine is one of the businesses of many noble families who own mines.

Because of the high degree of monopoly by these nobles, it is very difficult for players to buy mining-type pack animals in the game.

Those individuals who failed to become qualified "beasts" were either not docile enough—they would not fight back when hit or breathe on when scolded.

Either they lack stamina—they can't withstand constant pressure around the clock.

Either the pack animals suffer incurable injuries from the high-intensity, high-pressure training, making them unworthy of investment.

In short, these families occasionally produce some rejected pack animals.

Unfortunately, they became items for sale, briefly entering the tradable secondary market.

The jailer suddenly realized.

No wonder Renee was able to acquire a beast that everyone was helpless against in the game in her previous life.

In any case, she had no affection for the family that raised her, so it wouldn't be difficult for her to use some tricks to steal away the trained pack animals.

Renee's Choice is a must-try.

The pack animal that Grelian and the other major magical families revealed was a robust white bull with black cloud-like markings on its body.

When the jailer found him in the cage in the meadow, he was lying on the ground with his hooves bent and his body crooked.

The beast tamer picked up the whistle and blew a wondrous melody.

The black-striped white ox involuntarily struggled to its feet, its four hooves slightly crooked.

Its dark eyes burned with intense resistance as it stared at the beast tamer who enslaved it, filled with resentment.

Klitten said that all the rejected pack animals, after a short period of waiting to be sold, would be killed and stripped of their material if no buyer met the seller's requirements.

The black-striped white oxen knew full well what fate awaited them, yet they still resisted; they could think of no other reason than to seek death.

"Stubborn."

The jailer chuckled, stopping the beast tamer from increasing the dosage, and whistled loudly.

"Could I speak with him alone for a couple of minutes?"

The beast tamer hesitated for a moment, then, urged by Klitten, handed the whistle to the jailer.

"If it suddenly gets excited, blow on it."

The jailer's identity had been verified. Knowing that he was bought to serve as a mount and also as a source of inspiration for his paintings, the Grelian family was happy to give this rising art master some face.

After all... the Grelian family has also approached us for manuscripts.

Klitten, being very adept at creating an atmosphere, set up a soundproofing array.

Seeing that only a relatively weak opponent remained beside him, the black-striped white ox suppressed its aggression, chewed on the dirt and grass in its mouth, and lay back down.

He didn't even bother to exchange a glance with the jailer.

"By human standards, you belong to Rank 5. You're just a little short of entering the category of high-ranking monsters."

The black-striped white ox flicked its tail, attempting to shoo away the buzzing "flies".

"You hate them, right? You want to headbutt these idiots to death and stomp on their backs with your hooves?"

"Perfect match, I dislike them just like you."

The black-striped white ox turned its massive head, its eyes filled with confusion.

“I know you can understand what I’m saying… Here’s a deal: if you agree, you’ll be free in three years.”

The black-striped white cow continued to wag its tail, as if it were farting.

No one's cheering, but that doesn't affect the jailer's output.

His lips moved, and he became happier as he spoke.

"I really don't even look at a low-level monster like you, and there's no point in enslaving you."

"In three years, I'll be a Dragon Knight, or at the very least, someone who fights alongside the Slime King. In that scenario, you're not even cannon fodder; you're just a cooked steak."

"Can you understand me?"

"Our current situation is that we're making money off idiots, so why not take it? You help me through this awkward period, and then you can go find your little cow, while I meet up with my friend. We each get what we need."

The black-striped white ox's nose hissed out.

"Having a temper is useless. You'll understand once you've met those guys. You're really just a tool for me in the early stages. Even if I chose you as a mount in the game, I'd still find it awkward... Give me a straight answer. If you agree, I'll lower my head and nibble on some grass. If you don't agree, I'll leave. You wait here to turn into steak, and I'll wait over there to eat fresh beef and start the feast for you."

The black-striped white ox sometimes lowered its head in thought, and sometimes raised its head to gaze intently...

He didn't quite understand how this person could talk on and on without anyone responding.

Is he out of his mind?

At the very least, they should explain what he needs to do after buying it, right?

He seems like a madman who is so engrossed in his own world that he can't extricate himself; his mental state is not ideal.

However, it did heed one thing it said.

It called everyone around it an "idiot".

It agrees with this.

After hesitating for a moment, it silently lowered its head, took a bite of mud, and chewed it.

"Oh, you agreed? Which part of my words moved you? Tell me quickly, and I'll use that part to repeat every time I need to persuade someone."

The black-striped white cow quickly spat out the dirt.

It would probably be better if he were dead.

The Beastmaster returned to the scene at the signal of the jailer.

"Okay, now he's my Niu Niu."

The beast tamer was somewhat amused and exasperated. Out of professional courtesy, he explained, "It's a tough nut to crack; it won't budge..."

"Come on, Niu Niu, eat dirt."

Black-striped white cow chewing, chewing, chewing~~~

The beast tamer, looking bewildered, took the whistle and blew it. Niu Niu resisted the melody and stubbornly ate the dirt.

"This...Master Jailer, what did you say to it?"

In such a short time, they were able to make stubborn monsters obey them without relying on external objects.

Who exactly is the Beast Tamer?

He returned to the manor with the black-striped white ox, and the jailer dismissed all the servants.

In the deserted courtyard, he changed from his previous playful demeanor to a serious one.

"I know you still don't quite believe what I said before, and all you can think about is finding a suitable opportunity to run away."

"Now that none of the people in the manor who could stop you from running away are here, go ahead and run if you want."

"It's up to you whether you stay or leave; it didn't cost much to buy you anyway."

"However, if you trust me, help me gnaw on the weeds in the yard. I'll come and check it tonight."

After saying that, the prison guard returned to his studio and continued creating.

It was already late at night when I finished half of the painting of the siren spouting water.

He went into the kitchen, picked up a bowl of potato soup he had cooked himself, and drank it. Then, as if remembering something, the jailer picked up the whole pot and slowly strolled into the courtyard.

In a corner of the courtyard, in a place unnoticed by the servants, the weeds had been eaten to the same height.

The black-striped white ox lay under a fruit tree, and upon hearing footsteps, slowly opened its eyes.

“Since you haven’t run away, I’ll give you another heads-up.” The jailer lowered his voice and said, “I’m a necromancer, and I need your help to kill some monsters, obtain fresh corpses, and practice my magic.”

As he spoke, he placed the potato syrup on the ground.

The whistle, which could interfere with the movements of the black-striped white bull, was also casually crushed.

"If you think I'm evil and hate me, then this pot of sugar water is poisoned. Don't drink it. While everyone's asleep, run away."

"I'm going to sleep. Do as you please." The jailer stretched. "If you're still here when I wake up tomorrow, then our agreement will be considered complete."

The black-striped white ox possessed enough wisdom to understand what was happening to it, and also to comprehend what a necromancer meant.

In the deserted courtyard, it stared at the sugar water that was gradually cooling in the cold wind, its eyes bulging very wide.

As dawn broke, the jailer heard the servants whispering outside the cell.

He, who had always been in the habit of sleeping in late, picked at his ear and impatiently pushed open the door.

Before he could even utter a reprimand, a small, black-and-white hill came into view.

The black-striped white ox had somehow ended up lying down outside its bedroom, squeezing the spacious passageway down to just halfway.

The pot of sugar water was placed upside down on the ground not far away.

Upon seeing the jailer, it nudged the pot with its hoof.

Understanding that this meant he had agreed, the jailer laughed in annoyance.

"Alright, alright, stop disturbing the maids. Go outside and find somewhere to lie down."

The black-striped white cow was quite obedient; it flicked its tail and moved away.

For some reason, the jailer suddenly started having hallucinations.

In his past life, he and Orange Tea raised a very well-behaved mongrel dog. It was yellowish, had a soft, round face, always came when called, and never destroyed the house.

Dog owners will almost always angrily rub their dog's head.

After a bit of fuss, it was sent away, wagging its tail and happily strolling outside.

"Hold me like you would a big yellow dog."

Suddenly, the sound of orange tea popped into the jailer's mind.

That was their special routine: doing nothing but silently embracing each other.