Faced with Isabel's pointless question, Anbaixiu could not even be bothered to answer. He merely snapped at her, "Have you worked yourself into delirium? If you've got nothing better to do, get out of here and rest!"
Having delivered that blunt rebuke, Anbaixiu turned and swept out of the laboratory.
Humans really were far too fragile. It had only been a few days of overtime, yet her mind was already turning to mush.
Isabel stared after his departing figure, bewildered as to why her teacher had suddenly flown into a temper.
*It seems being an undead is a sore spot for him. Well, that makes sense. A young alchemical genius who ended up wandering an ancient castle as a dead spirit... that must be an excruciating memory to look back on. How stupid of me to have asked such a thing.*
*Even though he was angry, Teacher was still concerned about my health. He really is so gentle.*
Isabel sighed with emotion. As it turned out, kindhearted undead truly did exist in this world. At the same time, she silently vowed that the next time they met, she would not utter a single syllable about the undead.
***
Anbaixiu departed the castle under the cover of night.
Tracking down slimes was no simple task. While they were exceptionally weak magical creatures, their very weakness forced them to hide exceptionally well.
Slimes in this world lacked the cute, jelly-like forms of common fantasy; more often than not, they lurked in dark corners looking like heaps of rotting mud.
Neither excessive light nor extreme temperatures suited their survival. A dark, damp environment was ideal: humidity helped maintain their physical shape, while darkness was perfect for ambushing prey.
Slimes usually stayed motionless, waiting for prey to come knocking. Their viscous bodies could glide silently across flagstones, drip down from walls or ceilings, squeeze through narrow cracks... When hidden, they were remarkably difficult to spot.
The moment prey wandered past, a slime would launch a sneak attack. Once engulfed in a body laden with acidic fluid, almost any prey would be broken down and absorbed as nourishment. Still, this passive ambush style was hardly efficient, and most of the time slimes relied on grime, fungi, or even refuse as their primary food source.
Anbaixiu had rarely studied slimes and had no idea where to start looking. Finding one or two might not be difficult, but he was starting his research from scratch and conservatively needed slimes in the triple digits. Wandering around blindly on his own would never do; he needed professionals to handle this.
Whenever a problem arose, posting a commission for adventurers usually solved it.
Sticking to his usual routine, Anbaixiu flew directly to the City of Alchemy in the dead of night and made his way to the bustling Southern Cross Street.
***
The weather had grown progressively colder, and winter would soon descend upon the City of Alchemy. On days like this, taverns never lacked patrons.
Even though the tavern named Slag Ember was notorious for watering down its drinks, it was the cheapest establishment in the city, and down-on-their-luck mercenaries and adventurers still packed the place to the gills.
A cup of watered-down swill priced at ten copper coins filled the drinkers with resentment, which they had no choice but to vent elsewhere.
They slammed tables, spewed curses, and occasionally reached out to grope a busty barmaid bustling past. Catching a thigh meant breaking even on half the drink's cost, while copping a feel of her backside counted as a net profit.
This was precisely the sort of place Anbaixiu needed.
The moment he stepped through the door, the blast of heat made him frown. Liches generally favored the cold; warm, humid environments left uncomfortable moisture clinging to his bones.
The dwarf wailing folk songs in the corner was an even greater torment. If hiring an elven bard was too much to ask, could they at least swap in a human? A dwarf's throat grated like two stones grinding together—how could that possibly produce an aria?
With the economy in a slump, even the tavern performers were this half-hearted.
Anbaixiu shook his head, parted the crowd, and made his way to the counter.
The orc bartender wiping a mug called out warmly, "Young mage, haven't seen you around before. First time here? This one's on the house."
A half-filled mug of ale was set before him, swirling a murky yellow. Even without a nose, Anbaixiu could sense the sour, astringent stench wafting from it—the unmistakable taint of spoiled, watered-down booze. Undead had neither sense of smell nor taste, but that did not mean they could not discern scents; Anbaixiu perceived it directly through his soul fire.
He took a modest sip, then set a few copper coins onto the counter before speaking: "I'm looking to buy some information." It was customary to tip before asking for intel.
The tall orc bartender pressed a thick finger down onto the coins. Thanks to his race's naturally massive build, a casual press covered five copper coins at once, which he deftly swept into his pocket.
"Generous guest, what would you like to know?"
Anbaixiu was speechless.
A miscalculation—he should have spaced the coins farther apart.
Orcs were born with thick fingers; a single tap snagged five coins, whereas a human could have managed two at most.
Yet this was no time to nurse his heartache. Anbaixiu asked, "Are there any slime gathering grounds nearby? Somewhere they gather in large numbers."
The orc bartender had decent professional ethics and answered immediately, "The vast sewers beneath the City of Alchemy, of course. Though lately, the sewers haven't been too safe. For reasons nobody understands, plenty of dangerous mutant slimes have cropped up down there."
"Dangerous mutants?" Anbaixiu pressed. "What's the cause?"
"Heh, care for another drink, guest? Just ten coppers."
Anbaixiu set the coins on the counter and warned, "I expect this to be worth my money."
The orc bartender confidently slid the coins into his pocket and offered the information Anbaixiu wanted: "You must know that alchemy produces a lot of waste that requires special disposal—a massive expense. Lately, the City of Alchemy has run into a bit of a budget crunch, which I'm sure you know. So..."
Just like industrial pollution, large-scale alchemy generated massive amounts of hazardous waste that was both troublesome and expensive to treat. At the bartender's words, Anbaixiu understood at once: those lunatics had dumped their alchemical waste straight into the sewers, triggering mutations among the resident slimes.
*No, it might not just be slimes...*
Anbaixiu knew plenty about alchemy himself. Common types of alchemical waste rapidly compiled into a mental catalog within his soul fire. If all those toxic byproducts had been flushed down into the sewers, it would only be a matter of time before truly terrifying horrors took shape.
Yet now was no time to back down. He needed to collect the slimes as quickly as possible, before any truly catastrophic monsters could gestate.
"Post a commission for me. I need to collect... no, I need a guide familiar with the sewer layout."
Anbaixiu had originally planned to simply buy the slimes with coin, but with the sewers' danger level spiking, the adventurers' asking prices would skyrocket accordingly. He would rather spend a little time hiring a guide to lead the way and catch the slimes himself.
Though he was a half-baked legend, even a half-baked legend was still a legend. Handling ordinary monsters would still be a walk in the park.
Upon hearing this, the bartender beamed with delight. "Haha, you're in luck, guest! There just happens to be an adventuring party preparing to explore the sewers, and they're short a mage. If you can join them, you won't just save on guide fees—you'll even turn a handsome profit on the commission!"
Anbaixiu's brow furrowed, his teeth grinding slightly. "You shouldn't have said those words."
The orc bartender blinked. "Excuse me? Did I say something impolite?"
Anbaixiu enunciated each syllable deliberately: "You shouldn't have said 'turn a profit,' and you certainly shouldn't have said 'handsome' and 'commission.'"
"What's wrong with those words?" The orc bartender grew even more bewildered.
Anbaixiu let out a long sigh. "Because once you said them, there was no way I could refuse."
Chapter 18