nownovels Chapter 36 The Strange Uncle in the Tavern
Chapter 36 The Strange Uncle in the Tavern
Next to the blacksmith's shop in the homeless market, a small stall quietly appeared.
A tattered rag was covered with various scraps:
A hatchet, a comb, a bronze mirror, a ball of yarn, half a box of tobacco... Among the pile of odds and ends, there were a few small bottles with old labels on them—basic healing potions.
Each item was marked with its price in the goblin's clumsy handwriting, ranging from "two copper jingles" to "forty gold jingles".
The goblin at the stall didn't seem very bright; its red eyes looked confused.
The guy had a wooden sign hanging around his neck, on which was written in a crooked hand:
"Absolutely genuine, not stolen."
The character for "steal" was written incorrectly. I crossed it out, wrote it again, and it was still wrong.
The blacksmith's customers hurried past him, and no one noticed the goblin and his dilapidated stall... until an old mercenary glanced at him casually.
He froze, his gaze fixed on the price tag of the "basic healing potion".
"Forty Golden Glitters"
The old mercenary walked over nonchalantly, looking around, picking up the junk and putting it down again.
I looked at everything, but I didn't look at the healing potion.
The red-eyed goblin didn't greet the guest; it just stared at him blankly.
After a long while, the old man finally turned his attention to the healing potion, squinting as he looked at the label on the bottle.
On the old label, the sailboat logo of "Seven Seas Miracle Pharmacy" was faintly visible.
"Hey, goblin, where did you get this potion?" the old mercenary asked casually.
He pointed to the sign on his chest. "It wasn't stolen."
"Uh, I see." The old man chuckled to himself. "At such a high price, will it even sell?"
The goblin scratched his head and said, "We can't sell them."
"Twenty gold coins, give me both bottles."
"Forty for a bottle," Tongtong replied immediately.
"Tsk. Thirty, two bottles."
"Forty a bottle," he said, repeating like a broken record.
"Forty taels of silver! Or I'm leaving!"
"Forty yuan a bottle."
"Damn it, you stupid goblin." Seeing that the guy was unyielding, the old man turned and left, not even bothering to stop him.
The old mercenary didn't go far. He browsed the stalls nearby for a while, quite busy, but didn't buy anything. He glanced sideways at the goblins.
Two minutes later, the old man turned back.
"Thirty-one bottles, are you selling them? Two bottles for sixty." He asked tentatively.
"Forty...thirty...sixty..." Tongtong suddenly froze, as if the gears in his brain were stuck, unable to react.
"...Sixty-one bottles?"
He poked and pressed his temples, muttering to himself.
"Huh? Raising prices on the spot?"
"Pops isn't sitting on the ground, Pops is squatting?" the goblin replied blankly.
The old man frowned and turned to leave.
Suddenly, Gebu rushed out from the corner, shouting:
"Sold for thirty! Sold for thirty! Deal!"
He quickly handed the medicine to the old mercenary, then gave him a hard whack on the back of the head.
My hands are sore from typing.
Damn it! Solid head!
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After the old mercenary paid and left, Gebu took out two more bottles of basic healing potions from his pocket, deliberately made the labels look old with his saliva, and then put them back in their original place.
With sixty gold coins in his bag, Gebu weighed the bag in his hand; it felt heavy, and he felt reassured.
Yesterday, he sold two bottles of tranquilizer to cover the cost of purchasing deer vine and medicine bottles—these bottles were old bottles from Seven Seas Pharmacy, which they bought back at a low price to store new medicine in old bottles.
With these in place, the Goblin Counterfeit Medicine Stall project was officially launched—though it couldn't really be considered counterfeit medicine.
The healing potion is genuine; it's just using someone else's brand name.
Geb mobilized the goblins to collect dew overnight. When there was no dew at night, they created it artificially—breathing on clover to condense dewdrops, which they then collected.
I wonder if the healing potion with goblin saliva will spoil... It's okay, it's not like I'm drinking it myself.
Setting up a stall in front of the blacksmith's shop was to attract mercenaries who came to repair their equipment—these were the main consumers of healing potions.
Even the stall needs to be disguised:
If it were made by goblins, no one would buy it.
However, if the goods were stolen by a goblin, the chances of them being genuine increase—plus, with this brainless signboard goblin, who wouldn't want to take advantage of him?
It wasn't that they trusted goblins, but rather that the cheap potions were too tempting.
"40 gold coins is still too low," Gebu thought. Some mercenaries didn't even haggle; they just pulled out forty gold coins without batting an eye.
In just one morning, six bottles were sold, earning a profit of 200 gold coins.
Geb had never seen so much money before! He was rich! After deducting costs and the goblins' food expenses, he still had 220 gold in his pocket.
220/1000.
Everything is going well!
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The sun is invisible underground; people can only tell the time by the market bells.
When the bell rang twelve times, it was noon. The blacksmith's apprentices went for their lunch break, and there were fewer customers.
Gebu bought Tongtong a large pancake, put it around his neck, and told him to watch the stall.
As for myself, I'll go to the market and find out where I can buy alchemy tools and materials.
Even in the black market, humanoid races are severely discriminated against; they are simply not allowed into hotels or brothels.
After searching for a long time, Gebu finally sat down in a dilapidated open-air tavern. This place welcomed all comers and was bustling with people of all races.
The cramped space reeked of fried food and cheap rum. A crown was painted on the sign, and the words "Princess Tavern" were written in large red letters.
Geb hid his purse in his crotch, squeezed to the bar, jumped onto a high stool, and ordered fish and chips and a glass of barley wine. It cost a silver coin—a bit pricey, but Geb was rich! He didn't care about money! He was indulging! Eating!
After a while, the bartender brought over a plate of food and placed it in front of Gebu.
The attitude was a bit lacking, but the food was pretty good—much better than that stale, mushy porridge.
The cheap whitebait was fried until crispy, the fries were oily enough, and paired with some kind of sweet and salty white sauce, it was more than enough to fill my stomach.
What are tableware? Let's get started!
Awoo awoo awoo... Awoo?
As Geb was munching on his plate, a flash of light suddenly came from the crowd, catching the goblin's attention.
A group of people of varying heights were gathered in the middle of the tavern, while a strangely dressed man stood on a table, tossing something down.
"Snapped!"
The thing slammed onto the table with a crisp sound, like a firecracker. At the same time as the explosion, it emitted a fleeting burst of multicolored light.
The flash illuminated the faces of the crowd, followed by a commotion.
Some were dejected, while others were overjoyed.
Gebu, carrying a plate, squeezed his head out from the crowd.
A group of people were playing dice, and the person standing on the table seemed to be the dealer—a strange uncle with flamboyant purple-gold-rimmed glasses and messy chestnut curly hair flying around with his exaggerated movements.
"Friends! Everyone comes and goes for money, and a die reveals all! Let's see if Lady Luck smiles on you today!"
The man twirled the dice in his hand, talking rapidly as he did so:
"2 to 7 is small, 9 to 14 is big, bet on 8 and you double your bet—double the payout on a pair! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, if you don't bet this time, your wife will run off with someone else... Get rich today!"
Gebu looked at the table, which was covered with many squares drawn in chalk. The two largest squares were labeled "Big" and "Small," and individual numbers could also be bet on. The odds were written in chalk below each number.
The gamblers around him put their money in to bet, some with gold, some with silver, some with bronze, and some even took off their gold teeth and threw them in.
Wherever the betting was placed, these people crowded around, their eyes fixed on the dice in the other person's eyes.
"It's time to place your bets! Come on, come on!"
"Big! Big! Big!"
"Small! Small!"
Gebu glanced at the coins on the table; this time, more people were betting on the big than the small.
"Get out of here!"
The man tossed a pair of dice onto the table. The two seven-sided dice flew through the air and burst into dazzling light the instant they touched the table, followed by a crisp sound.
The gamblers were dazzled by the flashing lights, then leaned in close, squinting to see the numbers on the dice.
Six diamonds, and an eyeball.
"Six plus one equals—seven seven seven seven! Little!" the strange uncle shouted, revealing a cloth bag, and bent down to tuck it into his sleeve.
Splash!
The coins bet on "big" disappeared into the bag in an instant.
Wait a moment?
Gebu suddenly realized something was off about the bag.
These coins were quite heavy; when they fell into the bag, the bag didn't even budge, and there wasn't a sound of the coins clattering together—they seemed to have vanished without a trace.
It was as if the money hadn't ended up at the bottom of the bag, but had been transported to another dimension.
In the instant the goblin closed the bag, it glanced at the dark opening—
It was like a bottomless pit, and what flowed within it seemed to be tadpoles of light.
Could it be a magical item?!
Just as Geb was wondering what was going on, the bespectacled man turned around and met the goblin's gaze.
Through the purple lenses, the elf's eyes narrowed into two crescent moons.
He smiled and then said loudly:
"Hey! Little goblin! Want to try your luck at the table?"