Let go of that monster girl!

The old wolf woman immediately perked up, scooped up a spoonful of the unidentified paste and poured it into the pot, where it sizzled and smoke rose up.

As she pressed the pancake down with a spatula, she spoke slowly in a low voice:

"I heard they're a branch of the Rat Girls' Religion, what's it called again?" The spatula scraped the bottom of the pot a few times.

"Oh, by the way, the Holy Egg Hatching Society came from the Northern Mouse Girl Kingdom with the people who built the new market."

"It is said that in the beginning, he would just give out eggs, pray for people, occasionally teach children in the slums to read, and often go around to raise funds."

"It's no different from other bland nunneries."

The old wolf mother flipped the pancake over, and the dough was bubbling with oil.

"but……"

She paused for a moment, and when the pancake was done, she wrapped it in a crumpled piece of parchment paper and handed it to Lyme.

"Two more pies, please, continue."

Molen tossed over a few copper coins.

Lyme, holding four and a half pies stacked into a small tower, looked up at his owner with a blank expression.

The old wolf mother poured another spoonful of grayish-brown paste into the pot, and continued talking as she stirred it with the spatula.

"About two months ago, the Holy Maiden arrived, and everything changed instantly."

"They reorganized the slum's layout, encouraged everyone to help each other, and maintained order."

"Even those few gangsters who had been running rampant in the slums were crushed to pieces by the Holy Maiden."

As the old wolf mother finished speaking, she released the shovel, stretched out her only remaining right hand, and clenched her five fingers.

Judging from the force of that gesture, crushing it to pieces was clearly not a metaphor.

"And those refugees who have made significant contributions to the slums can stand near the holy emblem during gatherings and receive miracles personally bestowed by the saint."

As the old wolf woman spoke, she touched her mutilated left arm, where jagged old scars were still faintly visible on the rough cut surface.

"After my arm was bitten off by the ant-woman bandits, I couldn't keep up with the hunting party."

"Later, after hearing the rumors, I wandered all the way from Wolfsburg. Along the way, I met many refugees with the same goal, and we all came here together."

The pancakes were cooked again, wrapped in paper, and handed to Lime.

Lyme couldn't hold any more with both hands, so he had to use his chin to hold the top pie, burying his whole face in the pile of pies.

two months.

It was around the time when the strange phenomena of the Chimera herd began to appear.

Molen's mind raced.

Is she the reason?

The timing matches, but the logic is flawed.

The chimeras had to travel at least forty or fifty kilometers to avoid the new market.

The mere existence of a dragon girl can suppress monsters within a radius of nearly fifty kilometers.

What does that mean?

This is about the extent of Miraboreas's lair.

Molen found it hard to imagine that a powerful being of natural disaster level would come to the Dark Zone to help the poor.

Giving eggs to people every day to cure their ailments—what a spirit of not neglecting even the smallest act of kindness!

If she truly possessed such magical power, she could easily fly in the sky and become the sun.

impossible.

Should we go and meet the Holy Maiden directly?

Molen took one of the pie tarts from Lem's hand and took a bite without really tasting it.

Now is not the time.

He had no reasonable excuse to visit the saint; it was too suspicious for a minor baron who was not religious at all to suddenly visit a religious leader.

Moreover, if the Holy Maiden is truly a major villain, he has no desire to take on a calamity-level boss one-on-one.

It's completely sealed.

The kind that's completely and utterly dead.

The rat-girl pie from the slums was made with coarse ingredients. The first one tasted alright, but the second one had a strange aftertaste.

Molen looked up at the bright lights of the entertainment venue not far away, and a new idea suddenly came to his mind.

I glanced down at Lyme; she was burying her face in her hands, taking small bites of the tart, trying to slowly devour it from above.

"Are you full?"

Lem looked up, crumbs still on his lips, and nodded seriously.

Molen reached out, pinched her round little head, and shook it for her.

"It's good that you're not full."

Molen stuffed the remaining pies into a paper bag and patted the heavy money pouch at his waist.

The rats have all gone off to have fun, so I can treat myself too.

"Let's go get something good to eat."

About three meals' worth of time passed.

A private room on the top floor of the entertainment venue.

The room is small, but it blends two completely different styles.

Tatami mats, paper sliding doors, and a screen painted with cranes standing in the corner.

In the center of the room was a long, aristocratic dining table covered with velvet, with candles lit in candlesticks, illuminating the exquisite oriental porcelain on the table.

Molen could picture the foxes' disgusted yet resigned expressions as they poured pineapple sauce onto the sushi.

A yellow fox maidservant entered carrying a teapot; the clothes she wore were clearly not meant for her.

There was very little fabric, the neckline was cut off to the buttocks, and the tie was loose.

It was clearly a men's garment that was very easy to take off, probably just stripped off from some unfortunate male concubine.

But the yellow fox's figure was quite voluptuous, so she had to keep a smile on her face while covering her front with her free hand.

"This is the first time I've met such a distinguished gentleman. It's a great honor to have you grace us with your presence, sir."

She placed the teacup in front of Morren, then secretly glanced at Lyme in the corner.

"And, uh, lovely Miss Slime, please have some tea."

Molen picked up his teacup and glanced at her.

It's not hard to see the operating logic of this entertainment venue on the way upstairs.

The maids on the lower floors were all made of brown fox fur, and the customers were ordinary merchants and travelers.

The middle floor has been replaced by yellow foxes, and a faint scent of incense permeates the corridor. Behind the curtains, one can vaguely hear the sounds of wealthy beast girls indulging in pleasure.

The top floor was almost entirely filled with black foxes.

They didn't serve dishes, pour drinks, or smile.

With his hand on the hilt of his sword and a cold expression, he was only responsible for leading the way for the handsome male slaves around him.

They don't even cross floors when delivering food; the brown fox stops at the stairwell, and the yellow fox takes it and delivers it upstairs.

The hierarchy is very strict.

The girl in front of me should be the first blonde fox girl serving on the top floor.

He should be the first male to sit on the roof instead of lying on it.

As for the slime, she should be the first slime girl who is neither in the pot nor at the bottom of the pot.

Lem sat on the tatami mat, holding a small leather-bound booklet in his two little hands, his face full of amazement.

Molen took the other menu handed to him by the yellow-haired fox and flipped through it.

The cheapest shredded radish can buy about half a lime.

The most expensive fish dish can cost 150 limes.

You should know that in the slums, one lime is worth 120 rat pies.

Molen closed the menu and said with a smile befitting old-fashioned aristocratic manners:

"Two buckets of rice, free of charge, please. Is there any free soup?"

The yellow-haired fox stared in disbelief.

"Isn't eating rice with rice a Japanese style? Give me two extra bowls of free soup." Mo Lunli said confidently.

The yellow fox opened its mouth, but ultimately didn't dare say anything more, and tucked its tail between its legs and left the room.

The door had just closed when a crisp slap echoed from outside.

But he really did have gold coins in his bag!

The aggrieved voice of the yellow-haired fox girl came through the paper door, followed by another slap.

This time there was no explanation; only hurried footsteps could be heard as they ran downstairs.

Those black foxes were quite well-behaved; even though they had clearly been tricked, the yellow-haired fox girl still returned carrying a beautifully crafted food box.

Her left cheek was swollen, and her right cheek was also swollen, but she still managed to force a fawning smile and backed out.

A guest is a guest. Just because a nobleman is having fun this time doesn't mean he won't throw around a lot of gold coins next time.

The two buckets were piled high, filled with pure white rice grains, real rice grains, emitting an extremely enticing aroma of grain.

This is an extremely rare and valuable item in the dark zone.

Four bowls of miso soup, each topped with a few slices of tofu and seaweed, were steaming hot.

They even gave us a dish of pickled cucumbers and a dish of pickled plums, showing the true spirit of a pickle enthusiast.

Molen sat on the window railing and put a pickled cucumber in his mouth.

salty.

Looking down, I saw that Lem had already reached his little hand into the rice bucket, grabbed a handful of rice and stuffed it into his mouth, with several grains of rice stuck to his lips.

She ate very attentively, clearly much happier than before.

Molen turned to look out the window.

The top floor of the entertainment area is the second tallest point in the new market, second only to that dark, Japanese-style skyscraper in the distance.

From this vantage point, the entire new market is laid out before you, much more clearly than from the airship.

The streets, a blend of Japanese and Western styles, crisscross the landscape. Tiled roofs and pointed archways appear alternately in view. Colorful lanterns and banners hang on the main street, and shops stand side by side, bustling with people.

Merchants haggled over prices at their stalls, slaves carrying goods struggled through the crowd, and the faint scent of spices wafted through the air.

You could even see flying mice covered in food, dragging a large three-pronged anchor, slowly making their way out of the market amidst the bustling crowd.

Molen looked away and glanced at Lime, whose head was almost buried in the rice bucket.

I stood up, walked to the door, and glanced left and right at the corridor.

He closed the door, walked back to the window, and sat down again on the railing.

"Lyme, do you know why noble courtyards built on plains always have a lake?"

Lyme, his face covered in rice grains, looked up and shook his head.

“Building materials don’t appear out of thin air. If you want to build something on the ground, you have to dig a hole and take out stones and soil. For aesthetic purposes, you often fill the hole with water to create a lake.”

Molen stretched out his finger and traced a line in the bustling scenery outside.

Clearly, there is neither a lake nor a pit here.

"Conversely, if you're building something underground and dig out a lot of rocks and soil, you'll pile something on the ground for aesthetic purposes."

“There is a 600-meter-deep mine tunnel underground in the low mountain, so there is a 10-meter-high wall around it on the ground.”