Looking at the vast scale of the construction site, in terms of area, this was either building a shopping mall or a rather magnificent factory.
Clatter!
Durin stopped his steps; he stopped at a pub named [The Watchman].
From the outside, steam constantly billowed from the chimney on the roof, and from time to time, one could hear some crude laughter and indistinct female giggles from inside the pub.
When he pushed the door open, he felt a cool sensation; it was an air conditioner hanging in the center of the hall's ceiling.
Immediately after, Durin's nose caught a strong scent of alcohol wafting towards him.
Looking around, there were a dozen tables in the spacious hall, and half of them had customers. They were drinking freely and making loud noises.
People gathered around the tables, not just drinking, but playing 'Merchant's Assertion Chess,' a unique Piltover game.
This game was essentially no different from the 'Naval Chess' he knew before his transmigration; it basically relied on guessing and who was bolder.
"It's my turn, hurry up and move!"
"Damn it, kid, are you cheating?! I'm not convinced, let's play another round!"
"Get out of here, you're already drunk. Don't end up losing even your underwear."
Various sounds rose and fell, each expression focused and rich.
Of course, not everyone was playing Merchant's Assertion Chess; some were just sitting at tables with friends, drinking and chatting, seemingly exchanging information.
Residents living in Piltover's Harbor District were far more knowledgeable than rural farmers.
Even when they saw Durin, dressed in a Mage Apprentice's robe, walk in, they looked unsurprised.
Durin walked up to the pub owner and gently knocked on the wooden bar.
The pub owner was a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties with black and white uneven short hair and a brass plate fixed to his jaw. Under the sleeve of his left arm was an arm entirely made of gears and machinery.
Durin met his gaze, looked at the various drinks in the liquor cabinet behind him, and the fresh wild game hanging by ropes over the counter, and said, "Give me a bottle of pale ale, and some roasted meat. For one silver lun coin, give me some beef at that price. Also, I'd like a single room for one night."
The middle-aged owner looked up and glanced at him, saying in a hoarse voice, "Guest, a single room is 40 copper circle coins. Please pay first, that's our rule."
Durin nodded, took a silver lun coin from the money pouch on his belt, and placed it on the bar in front of the pub owner.
The owner reached out, took the silver lun coin, weighed it in his hand, and his expression immediately brightened. He said enthusiastically, "Please find a seat, guest. Your food and drink will be brought to you shortly."
Durin said nothing more. He surveyed the pub, found an empty table with few people, sat down, and took off the enchanted scimitar hanging from his lower back, placing it on the table. He observed the other patrons, eavesdropping on their conversations.
Although Piltover had newspapers, petty bourgeois values were rampant, and with the Piltover Council's six great families controlling public opinion, it was basically destined that newspapers would only contain officially sanctioned news, and most ordinary people could not obtain new information.
And pubs like this, with high foot traffic and a mixed crowd, were an important channel for many people to gather intelligence.
To his upper left was a table where two men dressed as workers were chatting.
"Hey, have you heard? The Piltover Council recently hired a professional Monster Hunter Master from Demacia at a high price."
"A Monster Hunter Master? What does that have to do with catching murderers?"
"Shhh! I'll tell you secretly, I also heard this gossip from someone else." One of the younger-looking workers looked around cautiously and whispered, "The people above think the serial killer might… not be human, but a man-eating monster!"
"What, a man-eating monster!?" The other older worker exclaimed in a low voice, somewhat astonished.
The young worker mused thoughtfully, "Yes, I don't know where it flowed into Piltover from. Could it be from the Kumungu Mountains?"
"Damn it, what does it have to do with us? The Piltover Council has come up with another bullshit new regulation, saying that anyone who wants to build a new house needs to pay a land purchase tax at the city hall. Based on the amount of tax paid, the Piltover Council will then approve a new plot of land for you to build a new house." The older worker picked up his wine glass and gulped it down, complaining indignantly, "Damn it, they must have gone crazy for money!"
The younger worker said indifferently, "Isn't that natural? Do you still expect those exploitative masters from the Piltover Council to pay for you to build a house?"
"They didn't make us pay taxes for building the Hextech Forge, which is already merciful. We should be thankful!"
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