Chapter 182: An Unplanned Complication

Chapter 182: Chapter 182: An Unplanned Complication

"Hello, I’m looking for Toby."

Lance stepped forward and answered politely.

"Lookin’ for that Toby kid, huh?"

The moment the worker heard the name, a simple, good-natured smile spread across his face.

"Come with me, then. The kid’s finally settled down recently. He’s with our breeding team out on the back hill, learning how to feed the hogs."

The worker set down his tools and enthusiastically led Lance deeper into the farm.

"So, young man, are you a friend of Toby’s? An Adventurer, maybe?"

The worker chatted amiably with Lance as he led the way.

"The way you carry yourself, you don’t look like one of us farmers. Reminds me of Toby’s old man."

Lance just smiled and nodded, not denying it.

"Sigh, you young folks just love to look for trouble."

The worker clicked his tongue, his tone filled with a certain wistfulness.

"A while back, that Toby kid was acting like he was possessed. Insisted on going out to be some kind of Adventurer."

"Ended up nearly losing his life in the forest. This time, he’s finally gotten it out of his system."

"He’s stopped thinking about running off to the forest to fight and kill all day. I ask you, what’s wrong with coming home to raise pigs?"

"It’s a stable life. Gives you peace of mind. You don’t have to live every day with your life on the line, constantly on edge."

"He’s about to get married, too. It’s high time he settled down and learned the trade properly from his father."

Lance listened quietly to the man’s rambling.

"Toby’s father, now he’s a real good man."

The worker slapped his own chest with pride as he said this.

"He’s the one who started it all. He got about twenty of us old-timers together and we built this farm."

"Now, our dozen or so families, young and old, all depend on these boars to make a living."

"Seeing that boy Toby finally willing to come back and take over the family business... well, all of us ’uncles’ are happy for him, from the bottom of our hearts."

As they spoke, the two of them arrived at the other side of the hill.

A chaotic ruckus could be heard from a distance.

Lance focused his eyes on the scene and found it so ridiculous he had to fight back a laugh.

Toby was there, a large wooden bucket filled with bean-cake soup in his hands, being chased all over the hillside by several half-grown Iron-skinned Wild Boar piglets.

Though the piglets weren’t fully grown, their charges were clearly powerful. Every so often, one would ram its hard snout right into Toby’s rear end.

"Ouch! Uncle Cook! Uncle Martin! Don’t just stand there watching!"

"Hurry up and give me a hand! Drag these little brats away! They got out again to steal the big boars’ food!"

Toby’s miserable cries for help echoed across the hill.

His sorry state prompted bursts of good-natured, roaring laughter from the other workers.

With the combined efforts of a group of the men,

the energetic piglets were finally herded back into their sturdy pen.

Toby, drenched in sweat and panting, scrambled up from the ground, patting the dust from his pants as he grumbled.

He looked up and saw Lance standing nearby, clearly suppressing a laugh.

Toby didn’t actually recognize him at first.

Lance was wearing a very Ordinary set of gray and black plainclothes and didn’t have his hood up.

But Lance understood immediately. He mimed the motion of forcefully throwing his Shield, just like he had in the forest.

When Toby saw the familiar motion, he froze for a second before realization dawned.

"B-Boss?!"

Toby’s eyes lit up instantly, more excited than if he’d seen his own father.

He dropped the filthy wooden bucket and rushed over in just a few strides, his face alight with enthusiasm.

"Boss! What brings you all the way out here?!"

"Come on, come on! You have to let me treat you to a good meal today!"

"Our cafeteria’s secret recipe for roasted boar’s head is one of a kind! The meat is tender and fragrant. I’ll go get it ready right now!"

Without another word, he reached out with his mud-caked hands, about to pull Lance toward the cafeteria.

"Wait, Toby."

Lance smiled and took half a step back, dodging the other’s enthusiastic hands and stopping him.

"I didn’t come all this way just to freeload a meal. I actually came to ask for your help with something important."

"Boss, what are you saying! You’re the man who saved the three of us!"

Toby immediately dropped his goofy grin, beat his chest, and promised loudly,

"Just say the word. If it’s something I, Toby, can do, I won’t hesitate for a second!"

"It’s not really a big deal."

’I should choose my words carefully to make sure my excuse sounds plausible,’ Lance thought, quickly weighing his options.

"It’s like this: I’m currently training a very special combat technique on my own, and I need to slaughter a large number of stout, pig-type Demons to get a feel for it."

"So, I was hoping I could help out at your family’s slaughterhouse for a few days and, while I’m at it, learn your professional techniques for processing Iron-skinned Wild Boars."

Lance felt this was a very reasonable excuse.

It was commonplace for Adventurers to undergo all sorts of strange, intensive training to improve their strength or master a certain Specialty, so it wouldn’t arouse any suspicion.

"Ha! And here I was thinking it was something serious!"

Toby breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the request. With a wave of his hand, he readily agreed.

"Boss, you can practice for as long as you want! If there’s one thing this farm has, it’s plenty of Iron-skinned Wild Boars! We’ve got enough for you to kill ’til your hands go numb!"

Toby puffed out his chest, proudly explaining the daily operations of their slaughterhouse to Lance in detail.

However, as he listened, the smile on Lance’s face slowly stiffened.

He suddenly realized he had made a serious empirical error.

He had subconsciously used the large-scale meat processing plants from his past life to estimate the production scale of this Otherworld slaughterhouse.

’So this is how it really is...’

Lance couldn’t help but give a bitter smile inwardly.

According to Toby’s detailed explanation,

their farm, which depended on Baihua Town for its survival, was already considered one of the largest in the surrounding regions in terms of scale.

But the number of Iron-skinned Wild Boars they could slaughter each day hovered around fifteen, at the absolute most.

The meat from just these fifteen boars was enough to stably supply the daily meat demand for the entirety of Baihua Town and several of its surrounding villages for a whole day.

Only during a special period at the end of each autumn,

when they had to prepare smoked meat as a food reserve for the long winter ahead, would they recruit temporary workers to increase the slaughter count, barely pushing the daily number above thirty.

"See, Boss? Our process here is simple and clear."

Toby, completely oblivious to the fact that Lance’s expression had soured, was still gesturing enthusiastically with his hands.

"Every morning before dawn, we drive the chosen boars to the slaughtering room."

"We bleed them, scald them, and butcher them by hand. By afternoon, we can load the fresh boar meat onto carts and deliver it on time to the butcher shops in town that have contracts with us."

But Lance’s heart sank bit by bit.

’If I can only kill fifteen a day... doesn’t that mean I’ll have to stay here for nearly ten days?’

This completely disrupted his tight schedule.

His original plan was to grind out his Talent all in one go today.

Tomorrow, he would return to Gray Rock Town, lock himself away to practice all day, max out the rest of his Skill Level, complete the class-up ceremony, and then immediately enter the Underground City to earn money and pay off his debt.

Wasting ten days here was far too long.

’This is a problem. Am I really going to have to waste so much time at this pig farm?’

Looking at Toby’s eager and enthusiastic face, Lance was at a loss for how to refuse.

At that moment, the sound of hurried footsteps suddenly approached from the small path outside the farm.

Lance turned his head toward the sound.

A group of children, around seven or eight years old, was running toward them.