Chapter 166 Iron Bucket Toad

"Lycanthropy."

Some felt it was a plague meant to destroy intelligent life, while others believed it to be a terrible curse born of moonlight and the Wilderness.

For countless years, people had debated its origins.

Was it the twisted creation of some whimsical, mad mage from a primordial age, or an evil conspiracy orchestrated by gods to spread their faith and breed offspring...

What could not be denied was that, to this day, "Lycanthropy" had become one of the most terrifying, dread-inducing words on the Aifala Continent.

It could transform a normal, healthy intelligent creature into a mindless, bloodthirsty beast.

And the method of infection required no complex rituals or lengthy prayers.

Through the blood.

As long as one was injured by a Lycanthrope, this invisible, intangible, horrifying curse would silently invade the bloodstream, slowly eroding both body and reason as time passed.

Eyes gleaming with an unnatural light in the dark, increasingly sharp canines, thick, beast-like hair suddenly sprouting...

Under the moonlight, it wouldn't take long for one to degenerate into a savage, upright Lycanthrope bearing the traits of an unevolved beast.

Of course, some individuals might be able to resist the curse's erosion of their reason by relying on their own willpower or the unique traits of a curse variant.

Even after becoming Lycanthropes, they retained their pre-transformation sanity and awareness.

But they still needed to be careful on nights with bright moonlight.

Xia Nan had spent enough time at the White Chickadee, sitting in the tavern every day and listening to the surrounding adventurers brag and chat.

So he had a decent understanding of this curse.

He knew roughly how it affected ordinary people, and he had heard a few related incidents of dubious authenticity.

They were mostly tales about some unlucky adventurers catching the curse mid-mission, falling ill upon returning, and going on a killing spree in their village.

Originally, he just treated these as casual gossip among the tavern patrons and didn't take them to heart.

Now that Harriet had mentioned it, the clues in his mind suddenly started linking together.

"The adventurer returning mid-Hunting Day," "the bandages wrapped around his body," "the herbal smell reeking from him," "the late-night beastly roars," "the disappeared Buck"...

The constable's deduction seemed to be spot on.

Every sign indicated that Buck had contracted Lycanthropy during his adventure in the Misty Forest, lost his mind when the curse flared up, and attacked his own family.

Then the next step was very simple for Xia Nan.

Find him, and kill him.

If Buck hadn't left Nym yet...

...

After roughly confirming that the mission target was a Lycanthropy-infected Buck, Xia Nan's first task was naturally to track him down.

Based on Harriet's description of that night, Buck had likely smashed the back window and fled before the guards arrived.

But Nym was massive. If Buck was determined to hide, he could just hole up anywhere in the Lower District with its countless crammed alleys and sprawling shanties, and Xia Nan probably wouldn't catch a glimpse of him even if he scoured the city for two years.

Therefore, he could only approach it from other angles to see if there were any notable clues.

Fortunately, Harriet—who lived off her parents' inheritance, rarely left the house, and slept through the day like a modern youth from his past life—had frequently interacted with Buck's family as a neighbor.

Usually, when she woke up in the afternoon and went out to forage for food, she would chat a bit with Buck and the others who were out for a walk after their afternoon snacks.

Over the years, she had gained a rough idea of the places this part-time adventurer frequented.

—The Iron Bucket Toad Tavern was one of them.

Xia Nan stood on the street, his gaze sweeping the surroundings.

It was not a wealthy area; the environment was even worse than Ash Tree Alley where Harriet lived.

Scattered bits of trash emitted a faint stench, and unknown sewage formed puddles of various sizes on the uneven road.

From time to time, ragged, dejected figures could be seen lurking in the shadows of the street alleys.

The overall environment was hardly different from the Slums of the Lower District.

But on the other hand, since entering Nym with the caravan, this was the first time Xia Nan saw more than three people dressed as adventurers at once.

Though far less bustling and vibrant than Rivervale Town, the Iron Bucket Toad still drew in large numbers of Nym's adventurers thanks to its years of accumulated reputation.

Watching the adventurers coming and going in front of the tavern, wearing various armors and carrying weapons, Xia Nan suddenly felt the illusion of being back in Rivervale Town.

Just like the tavern's name, "Iron Bucket Toad," its sign featured a simple line drawing of a toad sneakily poking its head out of an upright iron bucket.

He pushed the door and walked in.

"Ding-ling..."

With a light clatter, a warm draft thick with the scent of alcohol and food enveloped his body.

Xia Nan could clearly feel that as he stepped into the tavern, gazes—some hidden, some undisguised—shot toward him from all directions.

They lingered slightly on his young face, but upon sweeping over the longsword on his back and the Fine Chainmail on his body, they quickly withdrew.

Already used to this, he maintained an expressionless, cold look on his face.

He strode straight to the tavern bar.

"What are you drinking?"

The speaker was an old man behind the bar, around fifty or sixty years old with greying temples.

He looked very spirited, lacking the lethargy typical of old men his age in this world.

His eyes were exceptionally bright, and his sleeves were slightly stretched by the bulging muscles of his arms; his body was as strong as a young lad in his twenties.

—Nickname "Stubborn Donkey," the owner of the Iron Bucket Toad Tavern.

Having done his homework before coming, Xia Nan recognized the man's identity at a glance.

Sitting at the bar, his gaze swept over the menu.

"One serving of meat stew, two pieces of wheat bread, a mug of dark beer, and... give me a cream of mushroom soup too."

It was already noon. Having spent the entire morning at Harriet's place for the Association mission, Xia Nan had been planning to find a restaurant for lunch anyway.

This was perfect timing.

As for alcohol, though he was on a mission, a single drink wouldn't affect him at all given his physical constitution, and it might even help him pry for information later.

And as for the mushroom soup...

Since he saw it on the menu, what was the harm in ordering it?

"One silver, three copper."

He fumbled around his pouch, took out a few coins, and handed them over.

Xia Nan sat at the bar, waiting quietly, pondering what angle he should take to ask about Buck.

Would it be better to be direct, or a bit roundabout?

Should he tip? He was asking for a favor, after all. Five silver, seven silver, or just a gold coin outright?

Or maybe he shouldn't rush. He could just casually chat a bit to leave an impression.

Then wait until the tailor shop closed at night and have Jeff bring him back here.

He seemed to recall Jeff mentioning that he had some history with the Iron Bucket Toad's owner, Stubborn Donkey. Perhaps he could ask Jeff to help him out.

While turning this over in his mind, Xia Nan absentmindedly observed the tavern around him.

The main hall was huge; from a single glance, he could see it was almost twice the size of the White Chickadee.

But the interior decor was ordinary, with nothing to write home about. It even looked a bit cluttered, with only one or two waitresses sweating profusely as they weaved through the tables.

Compared to Rivervale Town, the adventurers in the hall also seemed to lack something, as if...

Xia Nan's gaze suddenly paused, fixing on a quiet, lonely corner of the hall.

Entering his sight was a middle-aged man wearing black leather armor. He looked utterly ordinary, his presence extremely weak.

"Well, what a coincidence."

He recognized the man instantly, a smile unconsciously rising on his face.

Xia Nan stood up and walked straight over.

...

...

Meanwhile.

On the other side of the Iron Bucket Toad Tavern.

By a table cluttered with cheap liquor bottles.

"Haa... haa..."

Like the final drop of clear water for a wanderer lost in the desert.

Walker lay with his face tilted toward the ceiling, mouth wide open to reveal his yellow-brown, rotting teeth. Suspended directly above his spit-strung tongue was a single, crystalline drop of alcohol clinging to the mouth of the glass bottle.

"Drip."

The alcohol fell.

Walker smacked his lips vigorously, seeming to savor this last bit of exquisite flavor.

His right hand reached for the coin purse at his waist, only to grasp empty air.

Slightly unwilling to accept it, he shook the bottles on the table in front of him one by one, confirming there wasn't a single drop left in any of them.

This middle-aged man, his face flushed and his body reeking of booze, instantly looked as if he had lost all his vitality. He slumped over the table, on the verge of passing out completely.

Suddenly, he felt a hard sensation against his chest.

As if suddenly remembering something.

He violently yanked open his collar and pulled a black cloth-wrapped bundle from his shirt.

Prying the cloth open with his fingertips, he could vaguely see two twisted, winding horns inside.

His blank gaze swept over the bottles behind the bar ahead, and he swallowed hard.

Walker shoved the bundle back into his shirt, summoned his strength, and swayed to his feet against the table, preparing to leave.

But after taking just two steps, a sudden force slammed into his side, instantly throwing him off balance and sending him crashing to the floor.

The cold touch of the tavern floor was accompanied by a sharp pain shooting up his spine.

In his ears rang the crisp clatter of a bottle falling from the table and a contemptuous sneer.

Already in a daze from the alcohol, this incident instantly sparked an unspeakable rage in Walker's heart.

He casually picked up a bottle and opened his mouth, a classic street profanity ready to burst forth.

But a moment later, he stood up and clearly saw the faces of the men in front of him.

It was as if a basin of cold water had been dumped over him. His anger vanished in an instant, leaving only an icy chill.

The people standing in front of him right now weren't drunken patrons, nor were they malicious street urchins.

They were several vicious-looking, heavily tattooed, burly men.

The one who had deliberately knocked him down and sneered at him was a muscular bald man standing at the front, looking like their leader.

'The Gray Badger Gang!'

Walker's heart lurched, and his intoxication seemed to instantly dissipate by half.

He silently lowered the tightly gripped bottle, forcibly swallowed the curse that had reached his throat, and squeezed out a stiff, ugly smile.

"I'm sorry... hic. I'm sorry, my lords. It's my fault for not looking when I got up and bumping into you."

Seeming experienced in how to handle such situations, he kept his head down and bowed low, adopting an extremely subservient posture.

Just as expected.

Seeing his reaction, the bald brute who had just been sneering and waiting to watch a joke unfold immediately frowned, his amusement vanishing.

"Fuck, what awful luck!"

He delivered a straight kick to Walker's chest and stomach.

"Get lost! Don't let me catch you on this street again!"

"Yes, yes!" Walker yelped as he was kicked to the floor. He used the momentum to roll forward and shove the bundle that had been jolted out back into his shirt.

Then, clutching his stomach and bowing profusely, he scurried quickly toward the tavern exit.

From behind him came the voices of the Gray Badger Gang members.

"Boss, did that old geezer cross you before?"

"What, you don't know Walker the failure?"

"Walker? The one whose wife died from drinking sewage?"

"But doesn't he still have two little ones at home? How did he end up like this?"

"Tsk, tsk. He's got both his hands and legs, where couldn't he go to beg a meal? But he just buries himself in booze and relies on the little one to sell newspapers for money."

"Our Gray Badger Gang might not do good deeds, but if I ever see one of you disgracing us like this old bastard..."

"Don't worry, Boss! There are no cowards in the Gray Badger Gang!"

"I'd rather work myself to death than end up a failure like him!"

...

His footsteps quickened unconsciously, his staggering, swaying back looking even more pathetic.

In front of so many people, the mockery from the Gray Badger Gang sounded incredibly harsh to Walker's ears at this moment.

What surged in his heart was a complex mix of resentment, remorse, guilt, and sorrow.

But the very next second, he drew a heavy breath.

The alcohol scent permeating the air rushed into his nasal cavity with his breath, seeping down his throat and saturating his lungs.

He recalled the cool, refreshing glide of liquor over his tongue and the aroma swirling in his mouth—an exquisite experience that made him feel as if he had plunged into a beautiful dream where he could forget all his troubles, as if even time accelerated.

The guilt and regret originally in his heart evaporated completely.

Only the deep, dark desire born of sheer instinct remained, driving his body.

Through his clothes, he touched the bundle in his shirt.

His mind conjured the image of the statue inside—ugly at first glance, but increasingly intriguing the more one looked at it.

'I wonder how many silver coins it's worth?' he thought.

'If it can cover two months of my drinking money, that would be great...'

Already half-drunk, his perception of the outside world had dropped significantly.

Because of this, what Walker failed to notice was that, after he stumbled out of the tavern, the thugs from the Gray Badger Gang exchanged glances and quickly followed him.