Let go of that monster girl!

"Country bumpkin it is then," Moren said, glancing at the female guard. His mouth was full of food, and he pointed incoherently at the food on his plate.

"This, this, and this, and this, one more of each, no, five of each, I'll take them back for Mouse Girl to eat."

In aristocratic etiquette, it was believed that eating large amounts of meat at a banquet was a sign of a family's decline.

Now it seems that was absolutely right.

Meat, delicious meat.

In an era before advanced freezing techniques, a plentiful diet of meat was sufficient proof of abundant food and advanced transportation.

The sheer abundance of delicious food on this table is enough to demonstrate the difference between Wolfsburg and Low Hill.

Oh well, so be it. Anyway, Molen didn't think living in the dwarf mountains was like living the high life. Sooner or later, he'll let the mouse girls live a good life where they can eat whatever they want.

Eat first to encourage others to eat.

Morlen eats first.

After the two dog girls left, the flying mice quickly stopped eating, wiped their mouths, and gathered around Moren.

"Your Excellency, have they agreed?"

"This is a complicated issue, but theoretically they have agreed."

Lyme and the rats looked at Morren.

"Don't worry, I have a way, and it's a cheap way to do it easily."

"Let's use the mushrooms we're tired of eating to wipe out all the ant girls in one go."

Chapter 79 Subspecies

Molen carried a bucket in one hand, inside which sat a glistening roasted chicken, its legs pointing upwards.

Each of the flying mice carried a bucket in each hand, filled with roasted meat and ribs, and swayed as they walked.

The slime's entire body was wrapped in a large ceramic pot, turning it into a slime ball.

Translucent short arms stretched out from the sides of the jar, struggling to hold it to the chest.

The large moving team marched out of the gates of the Duchess's mansion in a single file.

The two female dog guards at the gate stared in disbelief as they watched them carry away half of the kitchen's buckets.

The noble ladies, of course, would not pack up the leftovers. After the banquet, the remaining food would be placed in bread bowls and generously given to the servants or the poor.

Molen, who was so poor that all he had left was gold coins, felt no psychological pressure in packing the bags.

The female chefs, however, came up with quite a few ways to satisfy the Baron's "difficulties."

There simply wasn't a decent box big enough; wrapping it in oil paper and leather would have resulted in it leaking oil everywhere.

So this delicious feast ended with the hill plundering half of the duchess's castle's buckets.

Morren lowered his voice and said to the team behind him:

“Those dogs have a very keen sense of smell. I’ve planned the route. If the dog girl finds us later, we’ll sell Lyme to draw their attention.”

Huh? Lem's little face froze, and the big jar in his arms almost fell out.

"Lime is so sour, they can't lick it more than a few times."

"The dog is so pitiful."

"Miss Lyme is so pitiful."

One person, one slime, and a group of rats began to move stealthily, following the walls and specifically targeting dark alleys without glowstone lanterns.

Those who didn't know them might think they had just stolen food from the Duchess's kitchen.

Perhaps it was good luck, or perhaps the dogs were exhausted from running around, but in any case, nothing happened along the way.

The flying mouse looked up in confusion as it walked:

"Your Excellency, why don't the dogs in the Duchess's castle chase after people?"

Morren replied:

"On a smaller note, the dogs in the Duchess's Castle are all trained."

"One major reason is that they are a subspecies."

"Subspecies?"

"Did you notice those two female dogs at the door wearing full armor? Wolf girls don't wear full armor, let alone carry halberds."

A pureblood werewolf can easily grab a stick and unleash a powerful tree trunk strike.

The thin metal shell was no different from cardboard to them, and it actually limited their speed.

Unless, they are not purebloods.

"Before, there were no dog girls in the world, only wolf girls, and back then they were called—"

"Werewolf".

Bloodthirsty, irrational monsters swarm in the darkness, their wounds from swords, spears, and crossbow bolts healing instantly; only silver can subdue them.

In an era when countless beast girls howled and trembled in the darkness for the wolves, there was even a profession called werewolf hunter.

A wolf fang in perfect condition can fetch a fairly good price from an alchemist.

Molen tore off a chicken leg, smelled it, and put it back.

"However, it is said that it was originally a rat girl who accidentally saved an injured wolf girl."

"People then realized that these guys weren't monsters at all, just a bunch of muscle-bound primitive wolves with brains that they didn't use."

"After all, it's illegal to capture men and take them back to caves in the civilized world. Those wolf girls who are gentler, prettier, and more stable in temperament obviously have a stronger advantage in choosing a mate."

"And so, a branch of the family gradually separated out, which is now known as Inu-chan."

"Wow, that's amazing!"

The rat girls stared wide-eyed.

Morren continued to explain.

"So wolf girls and dog girls are actually different subspecies of the same kind of demi-human. Generally speaking, the greater their bloodline deviates from their ancestors, the smaller their size and the more stable their personality."

"Of course, there are also dog girls that have evolved into super-large sizes and super-irritable tempers."

A flying mouse asked curiously:

"Do hamsters also have subspecies?"

"Of course there are. In the north, there are snow rats that have very poor resistance to disease and toxins but are exceptionally cold-resistant. In the forest areas, there are also squirrels with super agility and balance, as well as those with large tails."

"In many closed countries, ratmen are also regarded as ominous monsters that spread plague and poison."

The rat girls looked at each other.

"Then what are we?"

"It might be a groundhog, squeak."

In fact, Ant Girl also established her own kingdom in the old Dark Zone.

They are the true adaptants of the dark zone, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call them natives.

Perhaps with just a tiny mutation or a little intervention, the ant girl could emerge from underground and share the same sky with the creatures on the ground.

Lyme, carrying the large jar, noticed that Morren's pace had slowed and his expression had become somewhat somber.

She didn't say anything, but silently moved a little closer.

However, Moran was relieved in less than two seconds.

Well, what's the point of thinking about things that haven't happened yet?

What's wrong with the indigenous people?

At worst, we can set up a private plot for the ant girls, have a Thanksgiving celebration, and roast a turkey for ourselves.

Let's take their skulls off first.

What Moren needs to do now is to take the bodyguards sent by the little white dog to the new market to buy a high-pressure container, use explosives to open up the road to the mushroom forest, restore the forest, and at the same time, plant mushrooms all over all the ant girls.

The plan is perfect.

A line of mice turned a street corner, and a glowstone lantern ahead illuminated a small open space.

A short figure was carrying a bucket of water, swaying as he walked from the opposite side.

"The cat seems to be hallucinating; it's seeing the Baron, meow."

Jimmy stood under the light, his clothes disheveled, his collar askew on his shoulder, and a few tangled strands of hair sticking out between his unkempt cat ears.

A wooden comb was stuck firmly in the tangled mess at the back of his head, and he couldn't pull it out.

"Meow?"

After a few meals, the hotel cat shop rented a large dormitory room.

"Meow—"

Jimmy plopped down on the floor of the communal room, stuffing a huge roasted chicken leg into his mouth with his left hand, while rubbing his eyes with his right hand, tears streaming down his cheeks.

She chewed the meat with her mouth full, crying as she chewed. She would take a bite of the chicken leg, cry twice, cry twice, and then take another bite.

"Baron, you've finally arrived! Meow! This cat is about to die!"

The delicious aroma of food wafted through the air, mixed with the scent of catnip, stubbornly resisting the lingering smell of dog drool in the dormitory.

Jimmy, while chewing on a chicken leg, tearfully complained:

"This place is full of dogs, meow! The cats' fur is practically licked bald, meow! I can't stand being here for even a day, meow!"

Moren glanced out the window. The delicious aroma drew several furry heads to the windowsill, where wolf girls rested their front paws on the windowsill, long strands of drool hanging from their mouths.

He silently closed the window.

This is the third floor, and Morren dared not look down at how many stupid dogs were piled up below.

Chapter 80 Cat and Slime Girl

Lyme squatted next to the big jar, holding a bowl in his little hands, scooping out thick soup from the jar and handing it to Jimmy and the cats.

The mouse girls looked at each other, then reluctantly took the roasted meat out of the bucket and handed it to the cat merchant's men.

"Roasted rat meat..."

Eat slowly.

"Ugh, I was planning to dry them and eat a little bit every week."

The cat merchants sat in a circle on the ground, taking the roasted meat and bread handed to them by the flying mice and passing them on from one to the next.

Only after it had been passed around and returned to its own hands did it happily start meowing and munching on it.

Jimmy, having eaten and drunk his fill, clutched his slightly protruding belly, let out a loud burp, and collapsed into a limp state.

Molen reached out and pulled at the comb that was stuck in her hair.

Jimmy crossed his arms over his chest, closed his eyes, turned his face to the other side, puffed out his cheeks, and made an angry face.

"Hmph! The cat hasn't forgiven being stood up yet."

"You clearly promised us a franchise, but then you sold the copper ingots to Snake Girl! Humph! I'm ignoring you! I can't coax you no matter what I do!"

Moren has his own way of dealing with catgirls who throw tantrums like this.

All you need to do is take out the cat toy and give it a gentle shake, and it will work every time.

“The franchise isn’t just about copper ingots. I have something here that Mr. Jimmy will definitely be interested in.”

Molen pulled a silver metal rod about the thickness of a finger from his pocket and began to spin it on his fingertip.

Jimmy quietly opened one eye and secretly observed what Morren was holding.

The silver metal rod swayed to the left.

Jimmy's eyes followed.