Deities: Starting From Goblins

Chapter 460: 275_1

Bart Cloud stepped forward, casually handing twenty Spirit Stones to the guard to plead for leniency. The guard’s eyes widened at the sight of the Spirit Stones and swiftly pocketed them, glancing around to ensure no one had witnessed the exchange.

Then, he coughed and waved his hand dismissively, “I suddenly remember you two from before. You did some small business in the city. It’s been a year, and I almost didn’t recognize you. Since you were residents of the city before, it’s fine even if you don’t have a pass,” he rushed. “Hurry up and go in!”

The two men stepped into the city, and Logan was naturally perturbed to see even a minor guard exercising so much power. However, it only took twenty Spirit Stones, considering he would need tens of thousands of stones to arrange a single spell array. Trading a small number of Spirit Stones to evade inconvenience was a bargain.

They walked around for a bit, looking for a place to stay. They weren’t short of Spirit Stones, so they picked one of the biggest inns – a magnificent three to four-story building located in the busiest corner of the street. The moment they walked in, an eager waiter greeted them warmly and didn’t seem to care about Logan’s shabby looks.

Logan tossed out a few Spirit Stones and said lightly, “Get us two rooms and bring us some good wine and food.” Surprised at the generous tip, the waiter became even more attentive towards Logan and his companion. In no time, he served the requested food and liquor.

Meanwhile, Logan casually inquired about the city’s affairs from the waiter. Impressed by his generosity, the staff shared everything he knew. This city was famous in the neighboring regions and while it was, in theory, under the rule of several lords, it wasn’t beholden to any single one. Instead, it answered to the City Lord.

The City Lord was a Dominator Realm expert and an important figure within a thousand-mile radius. He was known for his solo battle with a Half-step Saint Seat, which ended with the latter fleeing in disgrace. Clearly, the City Lord was not ordinary and could even overcome individuals on the verge of becoming a Saint.

Logan merely nodded, not surprised at all. If the City Lord wasn’t strong, the city wouldn’t be thriving like this. The City Lord seemed to have his own mettle and didn’t bully ordinary people. Anyone could survive here. Otherwise, given its proximity to the Trial Mountain Range, a horde of cultivators and adventurers would have already occupied the city.

Just then, a roar rang out, “Waiter! I’ve been sitting here for ages and no one’s served me! Am I not a customer? Bring me some good wine and good food, or this damn inn will be demolished. You’re all utterly useless!”

Everyone turned to see a muscular man sitting at a table with a big sword smashed on the table. His terrifying presence terrified everyone as it was obvious that his sword was a Throne divine weapon, indicating he was at the Throne level with a noticeable murderous aura; clearly having braved life and death situations.

In this city, Throne masters weren’t few; there were perhaps over a thousand of them. But compared to the city’s total population of several million, encounters were rare, especially the sight of a Throne master losing his temper.

The waiter, trembling, apologized to Logan quickly before rushing over to the man’s table. “We’re swamped today and understaffed,” he pleaded. “We’re really sorry for the wait, and as an apology, everything is 20% off. We hope this cools down your anger—everyone is a customer.”

“Fine.” The burly man waved his hand. “From now on, treat everyone fairly, okay? Don’t ignore me just because I’m not dressed lavishly and rush off to flatter other people. Not everyone loves to dress up extravagantly. Not everyone would be as patient with trouble as I am.”

The burly man then ordered,”Bring up the best dishes. I’m famished. I’ve been training in the nearby mountains for the past month and haven’t eaten a proper meal. I heard food at this inn is pretty decent; that’s why I’m here giving you business.”

The waiter heaved a sigh of relief. He’d initially thought the man was here to cause trouble. He felt relieved to know it had been a false alarm. Otherwise, causing a disturbance would have been nothing but trouble for the inn, even though they could find someone to handle a Throne Master, but there was no need to resort to that unless completely necessary.

The waiter swiftly served a table full of dishes to the burly man, who didn’t waste any time and immediately started wolfing down the food. The inn returned to its former hustle and bustle, although some customers sat further from the muscular man, fearing any potential outbursts or repercussions.

After a while, a young man tumbled down from the second floor causing quite a scene. Everyone in the main hall on the first floor burst into laughter, which fuelled the young man’s fury. All laughter vanished when they saw the man’s face.

August Westman scanned the room, issuing a threat, “Everyone out! Whoever stays in this inn is against me and the entire Westman family. Think twice about the consequences. I declare this inn closed. I’m disrespected on such an unlucky day—I always have my way in the city. Who do you, a minor inn, think you are?”

Upon hearing this, all the customers in the first-floor dining hall scattered. All were familiar with August Westman—he was infamous for his wicked deeds in the city. Westman was a highly influential family and no one dared to provoke him.

“Young Master Westman, please calm down. We apologize for being unable to abide by the promise today. We will make up for it within a month. But demanding five thousand Spirit Stones today is just too much. In a day, we only make a thousand, and after deducting the cost, that leaves just five hundred. At this rate, we’ll have to close the inn,” a middle-aged man walked downstairs, pleading with Westman earnestly in fear.

The inn’s monthly income was only fifteen thousand Spirit Stones. After paying various people their cuts, there wasn’t anything left. Moreover, the inn wasn’t owned solely by him—there were other shareholders. Westman wanted to shut down the inn on his whim—he was utterly worn out. They had requested a ten-day extension earlier but Westman ruthlessly attacked them in response.

Westman was apoplectic, pointing at the innkeeper and shouting, “You think five thousand Spirit Stones is too much? Every other shop pays ten thousand! I gave you a fifty percent discount because of your loyalty. But if you refuse to pay now, the fee will double. You must pay ten thousand Spirit Stones.”