Elf Kingdom: Game of the World Tree-Chapter 1243 - 806: Freemen

He now, all he had were merely ten silver coins, and that took him great effort to save up; he originally planned to save twenty coins to buy a new set of clothes and shoes.

"Silver coins? He actually said silver coins?"

The two attendants listened and laughed heartily.

After laughing, they looked disdainfully at the ragged Old John and said:

"That’s such an old story, now the world is so chaotic, every day someone seeks the Priest for treatment. The church also needs to recruit Knights, how can the Priest handle all that? Now the Priest only performs intermediate healing, five gold pounds each time!"

"But... but I only need basic healing."

Old John said anxiously.

"Are you teaching us how to do our job? Or teaching the Priest how to do their job? Five gold pounds, take it or leave it, don’t block the way, there are many believers waiting to come in!"

The attendant said with a frown.

Old John opened his mouth, wanting to say more, but ultimately fell silent.

Squeezing the few silver coins in his hand, he lowered his head, limping away.

"Poor fool, thinking of coming to the church for treatment, doesn’t even look at himself!"

The attendant’s mocking from behind pierced into Old John’s heart like steel needles.

He paused slightly, feeling a bit hurt inside.

A luxurious carriage passed by him, entering the church’s courtyard, faintly, Old John heard the attendant’s voice again:

"Yo, isn’t this Baron Herman? Why have you come, please, do come in... the Priest has been talking about you!"

The voice was flattering.

Old John turned to glance at the arrogant, elegantly dressed noble and the obsequious church attendant. Although it was midsummer, he inexplicably felt a bit cold.

He felt somewhat choked inside.

He originally wanted to spend three more silver coins, donate to the church, and then listen to the Priest’s teachings, share his troubles...

Yet he didn’t expect not even to be able to step into the church.

"Ha, noble pigs and attendant pigs, all deserve a good whipping! All should be punished by the Divine!"

He muttered softly.

The voice was inexplicably somewhat hoarse.

The blazing sun hung in the sky, Old John dragged his injured body, limping to the Black Walnut Tavern.

The tavern was filled with a suffocating smell, a mixture of sweat, poor-quality alcohol, and heavy perfume, unbearable to breath, yet Old John was accustomed to it.

This was the cheapest tavern in the city’s slums, gathering a large number of drunkards, idlers, refugees, and low-level adventurers.

The so-called low-level adventurers were actually apprentices or apprentice warriors with transcendent powers; occasionally, you could even see Black Iron Rank professionals.

Such lofty transcendents were absolutely unseen in Black Walnut Tavern before.

However, ever since the world’s magic power surged greatly, the number of people awakening superpowers increased, making those formerly great figures now commonplace.

The Minstrel’s not-so-serious music echoed in the noisy tavern, drowned by the clamor of drunkards and adventurers.

Old John glanced over, finding many people playing five-in-a-row, while adventurers gathered to play Gwent, surrounded by numerous spectators.

Occasionally, cheers were heard.

Even Old John was interested, wanting to see what kind of gameplay this was, reportedly coming from Elf Forest and Fengyue Free Territory, but remembering his business, he restrained himself.

"Bring me a pint of premium malt beer."

Old John sat at the bar counter, painfully taking out a silver coin.

The barkeeper looked at him surprised, joking:

"Old John, did you hit a windfall? Actually willing to drink premium malt beer?"

"Bullshit! I want to hit a windfall! Worked half a month at the mine and didn’t even get a single silver coin!"

Old John said gloomily.

Saying so, he grimaced while revealing his sleeve, it was too hot, and he sweated profusely, his sleeve had stuck to the wound.

Looking at the bloody wound, the barkeeper was stunned:

"How did you get hurt?"

"Blame the damn nobles! It’s not us who damaged the mine, yet they vented their anger on us!"

Old John said bitterly.

"Damaged?"

The barkeeper was taken aback.

Seeming to have thought of something, he leaned closer to Old John, curiously asking:

"So... the rumor is true? A dragon appeared at the gold mine, occupying all the gold and newly discovered Magic Stone mine?"

"Of course it’s true, I saw it with my own eyes! That dragon... was as big as a mountain... quite fierce!"

Old John gestured.

Seeming to have pulled the wound, causing him to grimace again in pain.

"Your injury is serious, aren’t you going to see the Priest or Herbalist?"

The barkeeper frowned.

Listening to him, a trace of dimness flashed in Old John’s eyes, he snorted, self-mocking:

"I wish... ended up not even stepping into the church."

"Why?"

"No money."

Old John spread his hands.

The barkeeper was speechless, he glanced at Old John’s tattered clothes, sighed.

The church’s treatment fees have been increasing in recent years, he was aware of it.

"Here’s your malt beer."

"Thanks..."

Old John took the malt beer, opened the lid.

The beer’s aroma was overwhelming, he sniffed indulgently, smacking his lips.

It was his first time buying this high-quality malt beer, a pint costing a full silver coin.