Evil dragon has a warm heart
Chapter 194 - 194 193 Bless the Master to Ride the Dragon

Chapter 194: Chapter 193: Bless the Master to Ride the Dragon Soon Chapter 194: Chapter 193: Bless the Master to Ride the Dragon Soon “Lame Les, what are you loitering around the fields for every day? Why don’t you go home and check on your wife? Aren’t you afraid she’s cheating on you at home?”

On the ridges of Wheat Hamlet’s fields, a serf loudly teased.

Lame Les, with a smoking pipe in his mouth, didn’t want to pay attention to the ridicule of others. Because of his limp, he was often the butt of jokes. But he wasn’t worried about it; although his wife would beat and scold him frequently, she would never cheat.

Because his wife was the ugliest born in the entire hamlet and had the worst temper.

“Lame Les, I just went out and saw Stuttering Bob climbing over the wall of your house. Maybe he’s having an affair with your wife!” another serf shouted loudly. Teasing Lame Les had become their leisure during farm work.

Finally, Lame Les couldn’t stand it anymore and muttered in retort, “Stuttering Bob is going after your wives!”

The serfs immediately burst into laughter, “We’ll go after yours first, yours first; yours are the easiest to steal.”

However, before Lame Les could continue to rebut, an explosive roar came from a distance: “Steal your mother’s head, which one of your wives doesn’t cheat? Each of you idle to the point of hurting, hurry and go home to check your wives’ knickers!”

“Crooked-neck Gwyn has come!” The serfs made a ruckus, no longer daring to waste words.

Lame Les, seeing this scene, revealed a heartfelt smile and walked toward the ridge, “Wife, you’ve come.”

“If I don’t come for a moment, you’ll just let people laugh at you behind your back!” The person who came was Lame Les’s wife, a middle-aged woman with a short stature and a crooked neck. Her name was Gwyn, and because of her crooked neck, everyone called her Crooked-neck Gwyn.

Serfs and commoners had no surnames, and with too many common names, they were distinguished only by nicknames.

“Let them laugh, let them. It’s not as if we’re losing a piece of meat because of it.” Lame Les took the basket that his wife brought over.

Inside it contained their midday meal, a jug of cool water, a slice of dark bread cut into pieces, a small jar of salty bean sauce, and a peeled boiled egg.

“Eat up quick, I’ve never seen such a cowardly man like you!” Crooked-neck Gwyn rolled her eyes.

Then she craned her neck violently, surveying the wheat field they were cultivating. Starting from this ridge and ending at another ridge 150 meters away, nearly fifty acres of wheat all belonged to her family’s farm.

Of course, that was only the land allotted for her family to cultivate; the ownership remained in Lord Russell’s hands.

Even the serfs themselves were also owned by the Lord.

After making a round, Crooked-neck Gwyn returned to the spot, frowning, she asked, “Les, have you noticed anything?”

“What?”

“The wheat field where we used urine as fertilizer is growing much better than the one beside it,” Crooked-neck Gwyn said excitedly.

Lame Les chuckled as he swallowed the last bite of dark bread and took a big gulp of cool water before he said, “That’s for sure. Urine is powerful stuff. The Lord himself said urine and manure are the best for growing crops!”

“Then how come in the past, peeing and pooping would burn the seedlings to death?”

“That’s where you’re clueless,” said Lame Les. Despite often being the target of teasing, he wasn’t dumb by any means, “I asked the sanitation officer, I mean Mrs. Catherine, who is in charge of the compost yard and the latrines.”

“That little minx, what did she say?”

“She said that’s called fermentation. You know what fermentation is, right? Making liquor requires the fermentation of grains. It’s the same with fertilizer—both urine and feces need to go through fermentation to… well, to brew into urine fertilizer and manure fertilizer!”

This explanation instantly made Crooked-neck Gwyn blink in confusion: “So, the crap and piss we produce can also be used to make liquor?”

“What liquor? It’s just fermentation, not brewing liquor. It’s fermenting fertilizer!” Lame Les explained.

“Isn’t it the same thing?”

“It’s not the same, fermentation of food can produce alcohol, but fermentation of dung only results in fertilizer. It’s all fermenting, but not the same thing.”

“I don’t care whether you’re brewing alcohol or fermenting fertilizer, it’s all the same to me,” Gwyn, with her crooked neck, said dismissively, “From now on, no more drinking alcohol. Alcohol and urine are both some kind of fermented stuff, just thinking about it makes me sick.”

“Ah!” Les was stunned, his explanation had somehow jeopardized his right to enjoy a little alcohol every day.

Eager to argue, Gwyn, however, changed the subject: “You still haven’t explained why this urine fertilizer and dung fertilizer don’t burn the crops.”

“I don’t know!” Les was feeling frustrated, “Just remember, both pee and poop need to be fermented… I heard from Sir Hygiene Officer, there’s an experiment this year proving the effectiveness of fermented fertilizer. In the future, they won’t collect pee and poop anymore, and we’ll have to ferment our own at home.”

“What!” Gwyn’s eyes widened, and her neck even straightened a bit, “They’re not collecting it anymore? Why not, if they don’t collect it, who am I going to sell my shit and piss to!”

“Keep your own shit and piss for fertilizer.”

“Ferment what, can fermenting sell for copper coins? Damn that little whore, the little vixen that ran out of Grotto Village! Great Dragon, why don’t you open your eyes and burn that little whore with a spit of phlegm!”

“Keep your voice down, or you’ll get whipped!” Les covered his wife’s mouth, “Besides, it’s good to keep our own waste for fermenting. If we don’t do it ourselves, we’ll have to buy manure and urine from the compost yard or the cesspool!”

“I’m not buying!”

“But you have also seen how well the wheat grows after applying the urine fertilizer.”

“It doesn’t yield more wheat!”

“It definitely yields more wheat. I asked the hamlet head just yesterday, and he said the comparative experiment has been very successful. Crops that used urine and dung fertilizer yield at least ten to twenty percent more!”

“Ten to twenty percent?” Gwyn quieted down upon hearing this, “Really, ten to twenty percent more yield?”

Les nodded, “The hamlet head said that this is straight from the scribe officer’s mouth, how could it be false! And, he also said that Lord next year won’t raise the land rent, so the extra grain is all ours to keep!”

With that, he couldn’t help but clench his fists and rest them on his chin.

Praying towards the north: “Great Dragon watch over us, Lord is such a good man, please bless him to ride a dragon soon!”

Gwyn, too, followed her husband’s lead, happily praying, “Great Dragon watch over us, bless Lord to ride a dragon every day. Also, it would be best if you, Great Dragon, could spit another phlegm and burn that little whore to death—the one who’s always swaying her hips and seducing men around the estate!”

“She just has a good figure, she’s not… Ow, ow, that hurts! Let go of me, my ear is coming off!”

…

Russell, who had just easily killed five Snow Ghosts on the Snowfield, clearly did not know that the residents were all hoping he would ride a dragon soon.

After pocketing the five Ice Pellet Pearls, Russell shook his cloak’s collar, then said, “Tonight I plan to camp in Grotto Village and enjoy the night view of the village. Seeing the stars through the Wolf Head Skylight must be a beautiful sight.”

“Sir, could this place be too dangerous?” Charles cautioned.

“No matter, after you go back, call Eric over, and have him keep me company in a night under the Wolf Head Skylight.” Adhering to the safety-first principle, Russell decided to call over Knight Commander Eric for protection.

With the Phantom Beast Knight at his side, the protection of the Red-eyed Rat King, and the Sentinel Rat Squad scattered in the corners, he trusted no danger would come near.

As for why he insisted on camping here tonight, it was because the five Snow Ghosts he had just hunted had given him a taste for it.

Perhaps there were still many Snow Ghosts lurking nearby, and it would be perfect to capture them all with the Little Dream Dragon.

“Sir, then I’ll also stay and camp out here,” Catherine volunteered, “I’m familiar with the Grotto, and I can alert you to any sounds in advance.”

Russell nodded: “Alright.”