God Simulator

Chapter 196: Meal on the dining table

In a high-end restaurant in Sanilo.

Pawa sat in an inner seat, holding a feather pen, meticulously writing on paper.

"Dear Jodi, how are things by the Elf Lake? With your intelligence and capability, I’m sure you’re having no problems. I’m just worried that those blackwater minks might be dampening your spirits.

Those creatures are very aggressive and eat anything. Lady Sarina and the others have made their information public, so now everyone is aware of them.

Don’t worry. Hunting groups from Sanilo are already heading south in droves, including a large number of Cannibal Crab warriors, flocks of Kiteflame Birds that fly across the sea, groups of White Mountain Sparrows, and the Merman Legion.

The merfolk are well-equipped this time, carrying a new magical potion extracted from anesthetic juice—the ’Sleeping Draft’—which allows their arrows to put those monsters to sleep.

They’ve also purchased special iron cages and copper muzzles from the Dwarf Fortress, capable of locking the sharp mouths of the blackwater minks, preventing them from spitting out their dangerous tongue hooks..."

Pawa dipped his feather pen into the ink bottle and continued writing.

"In Sanilo, thanks to the efforts of Lord Phileas, the Bone King, and the dwarves, blackwater minks have become a strategic resource.

Every part of them is valuable; their spiky toes make the finest arrowheads and nails, capable of piercing most metals and incredibly sturdy. Their tongues are highly elastic tools, surpassing even ox tendons, capable of driving large hammer handles and millstones, and absorbing intense impacts to maintain the flexibility and agility of large machinery...

Moreover, blackwater minks are covered in a hard black shell, but the flesh beneath is very delicious, comparable to the finest shrimp. Due to their thick shells, frying them in oil makes them especially tasty. This is a recipe first developed by the gourmet, Mr. Nong Chan, and after tasting it, I can’t forget its flavor.

It’s said that Mr. Nong Chan has gone south because the blackwater minks in the Western Continent have been caught clean... If you see him, please help him if you can.

Oh, I’ve made a little something—a set of feather pens and smoke ink. The feather pens are made from the feathers of strolling birds, and the smoke ink is made from soot, charcoal, glue, and resin. It writes very clearly and can be preserved for a long time. However, they’re still being improved; they have many problems, such as uneven color, low success rate in preparation, and difficulty in mass production."

At that moment, a merman waiter brought over a ceramic plate.

"Mr. Pawa, here is your grilled oyster."

"Thank you."

The waiter whispered, "Mr. Pawa, I’m a fan of your books. May I ask when the next ’Pawa’s Marvelous Adventures’ will be released?"

"I remember you said five years ago that it would be out soon, and three years ago you said the same..."

Pawa mumbled vaguely, "Soon, soon."

Can I be blamed for dragging my feet?

The passionate ’Dragon’s Nest Arc’ I wrote turned into a super ranch and farmers’ market, and the once pinnacle of adventure, the Dragon’s Nest, became a pinnacle of mundanity.

The ice giants that carried earthworms in boxes, they used various grains to feed livestock on the ranch, instantly losing all sense of oppression...

This led to the scrapping of the first draft, causing Pawa to become quite reclusive for a while.

Finally, he cheered up and started writing the ’Hero Arc’ draft.

It included heroes of this era, talked about by everyone: Copper Sea, who destroyed the slave system; Salt Long, who challenged the limits of human cultivation; the Blast Furnace Eccentric’s adventure group; Fabiani, who dug up earthworms and displayed old gods in museums; Hunter Rain, who recently brewed the transcendent liquor ’Blast Furnace Mead’; the Spoon Prophet and others who developed the potions ’Anesthetic Juice’ and ’Sleeping Draft’; and Shibao, the genius prophet who opened the ’Ghost Tower’...

As heroes kept emerging, Pawa’s writing grew longer and longer.

However, while gathering inspiration in the Valley of Gods on the Eastern Continent with the dwarves, Pawa saw the sacred and magnificent White Rose, as well as the nearby Canopy City and the busy squirrels.

So, Pawa excitedly started a new project called ’Curiosities Arc’, intending to record all the strange and wonderful life forms and items he had seen and heard about.

But before he could write much, the White Rose disappeared.

In its place was a low-profile Apostle with a melancholic face, Lord Pinkman. The White Rose became his attendant. They began planting roses in the Valley of Gods and even refused visitors.

Pawa had no choice.

He had to temporarily set aside ’Curiosities Arc’ and return to Sanilo to sort out the ’Hero Arc’.

"That’s great!" said the merman waiter, though his face was full of doubt.

Pawa pretended not to notice.

At that moment, a traveler burdened with a pack walked into the restaurant, dusty from the road.

He took off his hat, revealing a somewhat reddish face and a beard covering his chin.

"The carriage broke down midway, bad luck today."

Without further ado, the newcomer grabbed the grilled oysters and devoured them hungrily.

Pawa, however, was unconcerned and simply smiled, "Fabiani, you’re not getting any younger, can you still handle being out in the sun and rain all day?"

The archaeologist across wiped his mouth with a napkin, "Surely not as comfortable as you. I don’t have a wife as rich as a nation, and I have to rely on subsidies from the Salt City council."

"But these past few years, I’ve trained some apprentices, and finally, there are more archaeologists. Compared to the past, people’s enthusiasm for history has grown... although many are just looking to unearth treasures of the past."

"I’ve just restored the statue of the Songlv God with my apprentices and placed it in the Old Gods Exhibition Room. It was quite a challenge... but thankfully, the Songlv Mouse Prophet helped, or else we wouldn’t have known where to start."

"Enough about me, you’ve been talking all about yourself. How’s your manuscript?"

Pawa spread his hands, "Can we not talk about work?"

"What else is there to talk about?"

"Let’s talk about this."

Pawa pointed ahead.

The merman waiter carefully approached with a plate, lifting the lid to reveal a steaming feast. On the plate was a flour-coated, golden-fried crab-like creature with only four legs.

"This is your fried blackwater mink, the last serving for today. Please enjoy it with the dipping sauce and sea salt on the side."

Fabiani’s eyes widened, and he said somewhat sourly, "It must be nice to have money. I’ve heard this thing is incredibly expensive, keeps going up in price, and you have to pay a deposit in advance..."

"Let’s eat before it gets cold and loses its flavor."

Pawa cut into the crispy fried creature, revealing the tender and elastic flesh inside.

"Thanks be to God Yao for this bounty."

Both men murmured a prayer and then began to tear and dip the meat in sauce.

Fabiani chewed thoughtfully, "Actually, I’ve recently found a deep cavern in the mountains. Deep underground, there’s an ancient cave-dwelling tribe. They’re said to be remnants of the Rose Kingdom... still retaining some of their script and customs. I’ve been working on this lately."

"If true, that’s huge news." Pawa perked up, "Need any help?"

"Come with me to take a look some other time."

***

After a satisfying meal, Fabiani took his leave.

Strangely enough, he and Pawa met while gathering inspiration and maintained close contact ever since, gradually becoming close friends. Both had a strong desire for knowledge and a passion and focus for their hobbies.

Often, when Fabiani was short on funds, he turned to Pawa for help. The latter was never stingy, always generous.

Fabiani couldn’t help but think.

On that decisive afternoon, God Yao granted him freedom and choice, allowing his narrow view and thoughts to truly open up for the first time, redefining what he wanted to do.

This must be the mercy and tolerance of the gods.

He patted his clothes.

The package was still warm, wrapped in paper with some fried blackwater minks to take back for the apprentices to taste.

Life as an archaeologist was meager, and fieldwork was especially hard; they couldn’t afford such luxuries on subsidies alone.

With this, he hoped the kids could be a bit happier today.

Fabiani couldn’t help but smile as he quickened his pace toward the inn.

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