Chapter 340: Chapter 339: Moving the Nest
The players mingled among the excited townspeople of Halin Town. Knowing the fairy tale origin of this event, they began to speculate what the Flowery Piper would look like in this world perated by PC culture.
Soon, the mayor led everyone to their destination.
It was a carriage parked in an open area. Its wooden compartnt was massive and rather spacious. Exquisite decorative patterns adorned its exterior, and an iron lantern hung from each of its four corners. Below the carriage windows, a sign read ’Pest Control Pioneer.’
The mayor coughed to conceal his nervousness. Under the gaze of all the townspeople, he stepped forward and hamred on the carriage window several tis. "Hello!"
Only the faint sound of snoring ca from inside the carriage. For a long while, there was no response.
The mayor leaned halfway onto the carriage, pounded on the window again, and, tilting his head, shouted, "Is anyone there?"
The snoring inside the carriage abruptly stopped. After a CLINKING AND CLATTERING sound, a middle-aged man with shoulder-length hair, dressed in brightly colored clothes, crawled out.
The middle-aged man wore jeans and a loose shirt. His face was gaunt, his eyes were vacant and ringed with heavy dark circles, and he had the distinct look of a hippie.
The Flowery Piper?
Li Ang raised an eyebrow. This hippie isn’t wearing colorful clothes, nor is he carrying a flute. Considering this world is a heavily modified version of the original, such minor deviations are negligible.
"Ah-ha, Mr. Mayor, what can I do for you?" the middle-aged hippie, reeking of alcohol, asked lazily, leaning his entire body against the carriage with his hands spread wide.
The mayor leaned back slightly, avoiding the overpowering stench of alcohol. "I’d like to discuss the proposal you suggested to
earlier."
The hippie shrugged indifferently. "You an driving our dear Black friends, who traveled across the Heavy Ocean to get here, out of Halin Town?"
As soon as he said this, many well-dressed townspeople widened their eyes and gasped. Several ladies covered their mouths, their faces a mask of shock and disbelief.
"We’d like them to leave! I an, *ask* them to leave!"
The mayor hurriedly clarified, "Ahem! The conditions in Halin Town are too harsh for our dear African-descended brothers and sisters to live comfortably. Didn’t you suggest in my office before that you could take them to other major cities..."
"100 Gold Coins," the hippie interrupted. "You give
100 Rune Gold Coins, and I’ll solve this problem for you."
"What?!"
The mayor was both shocked and furious. "You said it would only be 70 Gold Coins before!"
"Well, didn’t you refuse
then?" The hippie waved his hand lazily, looking extrely punchable. "Decide quickly. I’m leaving this town tonight for the music festival in the big city."
The mayor clenched his fists, scanned the surrounding townspeople, and finally, gritting his teeth, said to the hippie, "Fine. The money will co from the municipal fund—from citizen taxes. I trust the townspeople will agree, won’t they?"
The gentlen and ladies either looked at the sky or at the ground; no one uttered a word.
The hippie paid the townspeople no mind, briskly returned to the carriage, and retrieved a few items, which he then hung about his person.
Those items were a waterlon, a bottle of grape soda, a piece of fried chicken, and a small African drum slung at his waist.
?!
Upon seeing these items, Li Ang struggled significantly to keep from laughing out loud, thinking furiously, This is so damn incorrect!
John Joyce and Julia also wore embarrassed expressions. Waterlon, grape soda, and fried chicken were once staple foods for African-Arican slaves during the plantation era in the United States and carried strong connotations of racial discrimination.
Any act of giving waterlons to Black people would be considered racial discrimination.
Old Bob, the Black man, had an expressionless face, but the way he clenched his fists (the players had stowed their weapons after entering the town) showed he was suppressing his rage.
Bob was using so equipnt or an item that diminished his presence, so as long as he didn’t make any conspicuous movents, the surrounding townspeople wouldn’t notice him.
Surrounded by a crowd of townspeople, the hippie arrived at Opera House Street, where the African-descended residents congregated.
The once bustling and lively street was now nearly deserted. Colorful graffiti covered the walls of the buildings on both sides. In the middle of the road, a group of black-skinned children were kicking a leather ball.
"BANG! BANG! BANG!"
The hippie beat the African drum at his waist, singing a strange, undulating song in an unknown tongue, keeping ti with the rhythm.
The African-descended children, who had been engrossed in kicking their ball, instantly froze and stared blankly at him.
While singing, the hippie swayed, shaking the waterlon and the glass bottle of grape soda tied to his waist, occasionally taking a bite of fried chicken.
Everyone watched curiously. The hippie’s inexplicable actions seed to possess so kind of Magic Power, summoning the black-skinned residents who were hiding deep within the houses and alleyways.
The African-descended residents either pushed open their windows to lean out and look down or erged from the alleyways to lean against walls and watch the hippie.
The hippie sang louder and louder, walking slowly forward, out of the Black residential area.
However, absolutely no one erged to follow him.
Seeing he was about to leave the street, the hippie, unwilling to give up, turned back. He beat the drum even more vigorously, but the black-skinned residents rely watched him as if he were a performing monkey.
Dejected, the hippie stopped his performance and ran towards the mayor and his group gathered at the end of the street.
"What happened?!"
The mayor, anxious and angry, demanded, "Didn’t you say you’d succeed?"
"How is this my fault?" the hippie retorted angrily. "I’ve helped other towns drive out vagrants, hippies, football hooligans, and stowaways countless tis, and I succeeded every single ti.
This ti, it’s entirely your own fault! You’ve treated these African-descended residents far too well, arranging their food, clothing, housing, and transport so ticulously that they show no reaction whatsoever to my ’Hotown Calling Technique.’
This is completely your responsibility."
With that, the hippie glared at the mayor, his face grim. "It wasn’t a success this ti, but considering all my hard work, just give
10 Gold Coins."
The mayor laughed out of sheer rage. "You want money even though you failed? Get lost! The farther, the better!"
"It’s not a matter of my success or failure," the hippie argued. "These African-descended residents have already settled here. Forget ; even if the Queen herself ca, she couldn’t make them move."
"That’s not necessarily true!"
A voice interrupted the argunt.
All the townspeople turned their heads in unison to look at Li Ang, who had just spoken.
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