Let go of that monster girl!

To be honest, the sourness of berries is amplified several times when heated, and the sweet and sour taste is not suitable for making soup.

But this is a rare normal drink in the dark zone, and it tastes many times better than nutritional porridge.

Molen quickly finished the whole glass.

Miss Orange started cooking another pot of soup in the small copper pot.

Several female mice were perched by the window, their long, thin tails swaying back and forth, their little noses sniffing the steam intently.

"It smells good."

"It's rare to have guests, but it's really nice this way."

Miss Orange leaned against the stove, her cloudy old cat eyes watching the group of short, mountain mouse girls dressed in neat work clothes in the yard.

Molen put down his cup, finished the last piece of bread crust in his bread bowl, and said solemnly:

“Miss Orange, I’ve come here to move all the remaining rat girls from Orange Territory to Dwarf Mountain.”

"Okay," she agreed casually.

Molen paused for a moment.

He had actually prepared several sets of arguments, but he didn't use any of them.

Miss Orange took out a faded wooden cross from her apron pocket. The paint was almost worn off, with only a little bit of gold remaining.

Her chubby fingers held the cross as she slowly said:

"The cat is getting old. There are many things that it used to fight tooth and nail for, but now it's not interested in them anymore."

"Alas, may the goddess protect you, this damned world."

Lem's gaze fell on the cross, and he leaned uneasily closer to Morren.

On the walls of the Duchess's Castle, there are white marks left after the murals were removed.

The closet door was open, and inside were only rows of simple wooden plates.

The carpet was gone, and the stone floor was bare.

If you look closely, you can see carpets cut into the shape of scarves on the necks of the rats repairing the city walls outside the window.

If you look closely, you can guess at the once bustling scene of the castle from its empty windows.

Molen said seriously:

“The low hills can provide some compensation for the citrus fruits.”

"No need. Forget about the citrus collar. The cat is just an old cat now. It's enough for us to visit the old cat occasionally."

The old orange cat waved its hand.

She stood up, slowly walked to Moren, raised her hand, gently placed it on Moren's head, and rubbed it twice.

"Really, you've grown so much."

Moren and Lyme followed the mouse girls out of the duchess's castle gates.

Behind her, Miss Orange leaned against the door frame, raised her hand, and slowly waved.

Lem took a few steps, then turned to look at Morren.

Molen felt her gaze.

"Are you wondering why she just let us take the Rat Girl away like that?"

Lem nodded.

"Citrus Territory is, after all, adjacent to Low Mountain Territory, which is one reason."

"On the other hand, do you think that for a noble lady, is territory more important or her subjects?"

Lem tilted his head and thought for a while, his little face full of confusion.

Molen looked at the mine tracks stretching out in the mist ahead.

"None of that matters. In the end, a territory is just land, and its people are just tools. If a noble lady doesn't truly believe those lies about glory and faith, she should understand that in the Middle Ages, two things were of utmost importance."

Molen held up two fingers.

"Food and fuel. Therefore, in the lightless zone, territories that cannot produce food and fuel are not important, nor are people who still need to consume food and fuel."

Molen put his hand back into his pocket.

"In those glorious times, the people are expendable commodities, renewable organisms, livestock to be worried about escaping. But in the dark and gloomy years, the people are a burden, a loss to be calculated, a commodity with many buyers and even more sellers in the slave market."

So, once it's given away, it's given away.

"But that doesn't mean that noble ladies would be happy to give them up for nothing. Goods, after all, always need to fetch a good price."

High up in the castle, several citrus-collared mouse girls stood on scaffolding, stuffing stones into cracks in the wall, their tails held high behind them for balance, their small figures busily moving about in the mist.

Morren glanced back at the gradually shrinking outline of the castle.

"And don't be fooled by how kind Miss Orange is now. She wasn't like this when I was little. She certainly didn't get her current position by being good-natured."

Moren turned around and started walking to catch up with the rat girls who were marching in a line ahead.

The citrus collar is a good start.

But the others are probably not such kind old ladies.

-----------------

Several days later.

The troops that expanded northward from Aishan could not be described as unstoppable, but they were at least able to surrender at the mere sight of them.

The rat girls of Citrus Territory began to migrate in an orderly manner, while the Log Territory and Sweet Pepper Territory further north were long since deserted.

In the three smaller territories further north, Morren spent only a small amount of money to bring a relieved smile to the lord's face, as if she had successfully escaped a predicament.

There was a reason why Moran flew over a hundred kilometers to Wolfsburg when they were in the league.

Most of the minor nobles were not even considered chess pieces, let alone chessboards.

It's barely a pattern on the table.

The only reason they remain in the dark zone is because they can't afford to leave.

At present, Morren has reached Fluorite Territory, which is 40 kilometers away from the low mountains, and is close to the powerful horse-woman nobles to the north.

This group of horse girls, which lies between Aishan and the new market, is the biggest problem for the northward expansion of Aishan.

But before that, let's get the Fluorite Territory sorted out.

He had only just approached the dilapidated wooden castle in this small territory.

A very fat snake girl practically wrapped Moren up in the doorway with her entire tail.

"Your Excellency Baron! Welcome, welcome! Please come in, please come in!"

Her voice was both high-pitched and passionate.

More dwarf mountain mouse girls squeezed in through the door, their little heads looking left and right, curiously examining the unfamiliar house.

The decorations in the house clearly show that some thought and effort had been put into them.

A faded brocade tapestry hung on the wall, and a worn bronze candlestick stood in the corner.

There are three painted ceramic vases on the mantel, which, judging from the patterns on them, were originally supposed to be a set of five.

"This pattern is so beautiful!"

"But why are there strips of cloth tied to the legs of this chair?"

"The handle of that cabinet is broken."

The fat snake girl turned around and looked at the group of chattering little mouse girls, her smile extremely ugly.

It clearly wanted to swallow all of these little mice whole.

She turned and swam deeper into the corridor, leading the guests to the reception room.

If snake girls have any weakness, it's that they can't take a step.

So much so that when the down-on-her-luck duchess swam through the corridor, the wooden floorboards inevitably creaked and groaned.

If snake girls have any advantage, it's that they don't need to wear shoes.

At least this time, Moran didn't see the little feet peeking out of the old shoes.

Molen sat down on the sofa in the reception room with gentle and proper movements, placing his hands naturally on the armrests.

Lem imitated Morren, turning around with proper movements and sitting down on the sofa next to him.

Then, with a loud and mournful tearing sound, half of the cushion sank in.

The slime was stuck in the wreckage of the sofa, struggling for a while before finally sitting up again, covered in straw and scraps of cloth.

She then noticed that the owner was in a horse stance, with his buttocks not touching the sofa at all.

The scene was extremely awkward.

No one spoke.

The awkward atmosphere was broken when a skinny, rat-girl maid carrying a tray walked in.

The obese snake girl personally brewed the tea.

The afternoon tea was very elaborate, with the tea leaves being just enough for three people plus an extra spoonful, and the last spoonful of milk being slowly poured in after the tea was brewed.

Molen tried not to think about what kind of milk it was, because he hadn't seen any giant rats or snow cows on his way here.

Lem picked up his teacup, his little finger carefully not sticking out, and took a small sip.

Molen also took a sip.

Hmm, this tea.

It's most likely a leaf.

But he still smiled and nodded:

"Mrs. Brenda, it tastes very good, thank you."

Not making too many demands is also part of aristocratic etiquette.

Two pitiful pastries sat on a small saucer, the shriveled dough still bearing traces of icing.

These pastries have probably been displayed many times, and it's impossible to tell what they were originally.

The chubby snake girl waved her hand somewhat embarrassedly.

"Usually, I like to have some snacks delivered by Oriental Express after dinner, but lately my favorite place has been out of stock all the time."

She picked up her teacup, her fingers just barely covering the missing corner of the saucer, her movements a little awkward.

He must be regretting mentioning the word "dinner".

If Moran decides to stay for dinner, then we're in big trouble.

It would be impolite not to discuss personal matters during afternoon tea.

But she still put down her teacup, leaned forward, and lowered her voice.

"Your Excellency, is it true that you said in your letter that you were willing to pay for all the rat girls in the Fluorite Territory?"

Molen took another sip of tea to confirm that it was indeed made from leaves.

Then he put down the cup and smiled with a touch of aristocratic grace:

“Of course, Mrs. Brenda, I’m not only willing to buy all the ratgirls, but also the entire fluorite mine.”

The obese snake girl opened her mouth, then closed it again, her expression shifting between surprise and hesitation on her thick cheeks.

After all, Fluorite Territory is not a big place. Not long ago, a snake girl family bought an inconspicuous small mine in a fluorite vein and a small piece of land around it from the illustrious horse girl family.

After decades of arduous operation, this gradually gave rise to the pitiful little aristocracy we see today.

As the sunlight disappeared, that small patch of land around it lost all its value.

If Morren really buys her fluorite mine, she will be no different from an ordinary person.

The snake girl's tail curled nervously on the ground, and after hesitating for a long while, she finally spoke:

“This mine was passed down from my grandmother’s generation. We’ve run it for generations, and this is the bond we have with it…”