Farming in a Parallel World and Becoming a God
Chapter 591 - 465: Stealth Bidding on Warhorses_2

Chapter 591: Chapter 465: Stealth Bidding on Warhorses_2

"Whether it’s true or not, we’ll find out tomorrow morning," Ella laughed, interjecting, "I heard he’s here to buy battle horses in bulk. Those with warhorses for sale will surely investigate him overnight, and for those big families, that’s not a difficult task. So, if any of you want to slide into his bed, wait until tomorrow night."

"Pfft! You’re the one who wants to slide into his bed! You make it sound like we’re the companion dancers from the Joy Hall across the street."

"Stop pretending, you were almost clinging to the man earlier; it was just short of writing your thoughts on your face."

"You say that again, watch me tear your mouth out."

"Ha... I’m so scared! Come on, try me!"

"Fine, I’ll try."

"Jokes aside, I hope you all consider it seriously before getting involved with him. This young man is incomprehensible to me—not just for you, but for Anfield Village as well. He’s just passing through, stopping briefly before hitting the road again. You’ll find it hard to keep up with his pace," Krewen warned gravely.

Even raising little cats and dogs for a long time can lead to attachment, let alone these girls who have been by his side for years.

Although they are relatively outstanding among their peers, they are simply no match for that young man.

If they stayed by his side, looking after the tavern, he could at least ensure they got married and had children before he died, guaranteeing their families would not want for food or clothing.

But once they chose to leave the village with him, what they would face in the future was up to their own fate.

"Dad, don’t worry, we’re not three-year-old kids. We know what we’re doing and what we want," they said.

"That’s right, dad, we won’t leave you. We still have to take care of you in your old age. Sisters, am I right?"

"Of course, dad, how could we bear to leave you!"

The six barmaids giggled and comforted Krewen.

"Alright, it’s late, so none of you go back, just cram in and sleep in the tavern. I’m guessing there will be a lot of excitement tomorrow, and you’ll be busy," Krewen waved them off to their rooms, yet he himself stayed seated behind the bar without moving.

Once the six barmaids had all left, Krewen took out a crystal ball from a secret compartment beneath the counter, believing his old friend would be interested in this young man. But he wondered if his friend was currently free.

After wiping the crystal ball three times and seeing no response, Krewen had to stuff it back into the compartment, sighing inwardly. It seemed his old friend had once again gone off adventuring somewhere.

Being a spellcaster was great. At the same age, his friend was still full of life, thriving on adventures.

On the other hand, he had already entered retirement, with his health declining year by year. If he didn’t consider extending his lifespan, in another two or three decades, not to mention shaking a cocktail, handling bowls and chopsticks would be a problem.

Time flies just like that, and in the blink of an eye, life approaches its twilight.

Provoked by Gaven, Krewen indulged in the rare lamentation of an old man and sat at the bar until dawn.

His lament was entirely superfluous.

At his professional level, lifespan couldn’t be measured like an ordinary person’s. Living to a hundred and thirty or forty years old was quite normal.

If he could advance further and step into the legendary realm, his life expectancy would surely double.

Not to mention there were plenty of ways to extend lifespan; it was just a matter of whether one wanted to pursue them. Of course, most methods came with severe side effects, such as a vampire’s thirst for blood or a witch’s need for souls to sustain them.

Krewen’s guess was correct; today was destined to be a busy day at the Deer Horn Pot Tavern.

As soon as the sky began to brighten, the doorway was jammed with people.

And in Anfield Village, those who were considered prominent figures were present. They were the managers of the big horse farms as well as the owners of independent horse farms.

Their simultaneous presence here indirectly verified Gaven’s identity beyond doubt; he was indeed Gaven Nort from the Weizemay Manor.

Beyond that, more details about him were dug up.

He was also an uncrowned king of a Gnoll Lord in the Rocklands, commanding tens of thousands of gnolls who mined tirelessly for him.

He was also a Dragon Slayer who alone on horseback had slain the Red Dragon that had plagued the East Road for years.

To these horse farm owners, these details were secondary. The most important thing was that he had money, a lot of money, and he intended to buy horses, a lot of horses.

Combining the two pieces of information, he immediately became their most esteemed guest, worthy of them waiting outside his door early in the morning to greet him.

"Mr. Gaven, here’s the situation now. How do you plan to handle it?" Ella carefully explained what was happening outside the Hanging Deer to Gaven.

"Thanks, I understand," Gaven turned to Krewen and said, "Teacher, could I borrow the tavern for a while?"

"There won’t be any customers this early, so you can do as you please," Krewen, yawning, headed to the back yard, "I’m getting old, really old. I can’t seem to get enough sleep lately. You go on, I’m going back to bed."

The tavern owner’s message was clear: You can use the tavern, but he wouldn’t be involved in this matter.

"Thank you, teacher," Gaven saw Krewen off, then turned his gaze to Ella, "Would you be able to stay and help host? Afterwards, I’ll pay you three times your usual wages."

"We can help with hosting, but there’s no need for triple wages," Ella responded with a smile, knowing well the value of a favor—taught by a good teacher that personal obligation is most precious, even coming from a small place.