System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 292: The Beast Finally Returns Home
Novigrad market, the vegetable stall in the northeast corner. The baskets holding the vegetables had been kicked into chaos. Okra, turnips, and potatoes rolled everywhere, leaving the ground a mess.
A sharp-faced, monkey-cheeked man crouched in front of the stall, gnawing on a crisp white radish with a vicious air.
“Aunt Susan, yesterday the gang already showed you special mercy and gave you one more day. If you still don’t pay the protection fee today...”
Across from him, a sallow-faced middle-aged woman shrank into the corner, frightened as she soothed the bawling infant in her arms.
“I’ll say it plainly. If the brothers can’t collect the money, they get restless. Their hands grow careless. If they hit you, that’s one thing. But if they accidentally touch that little darling in your arms and something happens to him, regret will come too late.”
“Boss Vincent, the money was already taken by you. I can’t produce a single copper now.” The peasant woman lifted her head, carefully looking at the man with pleading eyes. “Please, let us go this once ... sob ... our family can’t bear this kind of torment...”
The area around the vegetable stall had basically emptied. Vendors and market-goers all kept away of their own accord. Occasionally someone came over for a curious glance, only to be driven off at once by the thugs’ fierce looks.
Even the market guards hid far away.
“And the money from selling vegetables? Where did it go?”
“We had barely opened for business today before you came over to make trouble again. Any normal person with eyes wouldn’t come buy from us. We haven’t sold anything.”
Another thug rubbed his hands and exchanged a glance with his companion. “If you can’t sell, then stop selling.” As he spoke, he suddenly kicked a basket toward the peasant woman, frightening the child into crying even louder. “Novigrad market is Boss Willie’s territory. If you don’t pay, you have no right to come here and sell vegetables. Pack your things and get out right now ... Will you do it yourself, or should the three of us help?”
The peasant woman sobbed harder, full of despair. She kept casting pleading looks at the passersby nearby, but all she received were a few gazes of pity, or schadenfreude. No one dared lend a hand.
“Stop, three bosses. Have mercy.” An aged voice suddenly came from behind the thugs. At some point, Old Mole had walked to the vegetable stall. He sighed, saw his wife and child in such a state, and deep pain flashed in his eyes. The fist clenched behind his back loosened in defeat.
He had first wanted to throw caution aside and fight these thugs to the death, but when the moment came, he realized the consequence of impulse.
Behind the three thugs stood the Willie Gang, one of Novigrad’s four great gangs. The gang boss was the legendary ruthless Alphonse Willie, whose hands were soaked in blood.
Old Mole knew well that if he dared resist today, tomorrow his whole family would be dragged into it. Perhaps they would be carved into human sticks, stuffed into linen sacks, and thrown into the water without anyone knowing.
“Well now, Old Mole. Where did you run off to so early? Don’t tell me you went to the Spear Cave to amuse yourself? Leaving your wife and child here at the stall, aren’t you afraid they’ll run off with another man?” A bald thug with a scar slapped Old Mole’s face mockingly. The blows reddened the man’s cheeks, and Old Mole lowered his head in discomfort.
“Boss Vincent, I ... I went out this morning to gather money.” Old Mole forced an ugly smile, gritted his teeth, and took out his money pouch, painfully handing over one crown.
“You think you’re sending off a beggar?” The thug named Vincent snatched the money pouch, turned it upside down, and took out another crown.
“You scraped together two crowns in a whole morning? Old thing, protection money has a clear price, ten crowns. This isn’t even half.”
“But this is all we have.” Old Mole held both hands before his chest. “My family moved here less than a year ago. We have no other acquaintances in Novigrad and truly can’t borrow more. If the bosses think it too little, please give us two more days. Once we sell the vegetables in the stall, we will have enough money to pay the protection fee...”
Old Mole lowered his posture to the dust, nearly bowing and scraping. “The money you take now can count as my tribute to the three bosses.”
Another muscular thug shook his head and looked Old Mole up and down from the corner of his eye. “Are you blind, old thing? Look carefully, there are three of us. Two crowns aren’t even enough to go to a tavern for a few cups of wine and a piece of meat.”
“Either give us more money right now,” the strong thug said, viciously pinching Old Mole’s cheeks and pulling hard to both sides until they were swollen red, then slapping him hard enough to nearly knock him down, “or take your wife and child and get out of the market at once.”
Old Mole lowered his head and said nothing.
“Hey, hey, Daniel. How many times have I said it? Try not to beat old people. If you accidentally kill someone, the boss has to wipe your arse.”
Sharp-faced Vincent smiled darkly.
“Old Mole, your current situation is rather bad. But since you’re an honest man, I’ll give you some free advice and teach you how to make money...”
The man glanced at the red-lipped, white-toothed baby boy in the peasant woman’s arms and said with a half smile, “As far as I know, the Beggar King is recruiting hard to expand his begging army. Cripples, vagrants, children, he doesn’t turn away any of them ... Your child is rather pleasing to look at. With some training, he should be able to move certain women with too much motherly feeling. Why not hand the child over to the Beggar King and exchange him for some coin?”
“If you can’t bear to do it, we can do it for you,” the bigger thug added.
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