League of Legends Invades Another World

Remember in one second [End of the God Station] Mobile phone user input address: m.xinwanben.com

The tavern, I remember the most famous one in the town of Irvingale is the Oak Tavern, right? The wild boar steak rice and the fire shochu taste very good there.

Horace recalled the small memories of more than two years ago, and stood at the corner of the silent street in confusion.

This alley doesn't seem to be the road to the Oak Tavern.

Oak Tavern? Haha, it's already a thing of the past, turned to ashes under a fire. Congreve explained in detail. Now the pub is the best pub in the town of Ervindale, no one!

It sounded good, Horace believed what his partner said, and his quiet heart was seduced by a trace of interest.

Spirits and beauties are the favorites of mercenaries, and sometimes spirits are even more important to mercenaries.

What's the name of the tavern?

Tavern! Congreve said subconsciously, and then the two of them stood at the corner of the street like idiots with big eyes.

...You mean, the name of the tavern is... Tavern.

Of course, you think so? Congreve hummed softly, and stepped into the silent alley. The goddess of luck favors, I hope we can catch up with today's business hours.

Bang!

A dull voice sounded in the alley, and a slightly burly body slammed into the hard wall of the alley, slowly slipped, and fell to the icy ground.

Another piece of trash, I'm drunk after just one drink, wasting my time! A hoarse and grumpy voice came from the broken wooden door, which seemed very dissatisfied.

Hey, two little guys. The huge body hidden in the shadow of the wooden door noticed the approaching Horace and Congreve, and his eyes fell on them at will. At this time, he should have come to the tavern, just in time for the ale. Debugging is missing a try or two.

The last cup before closing, do you want to come?

Horace dared to swear that when that gaze came over, he would definitely feel the aura of a prehistoric beast coming over him, a terrifying and suffocating feeling.

Of course, senior, it is an honor to enter your tavern.

On the contrary, Congreve, who was beside him, seemed to be used to this, bending his burly body slightly, not caring about his humble appearance, and then tossing out a heavy bag of linen.

This is 100 gold shields, which is the money for the two of us!

Come in! An invisible force opened the thick oak door, as if welcoming the guests.

It's just that Congreve, who is a guest at this moment, does not dare to relax at all. This is the fifth time he has been blessed by the goddess of luck and has entered this tavern, so he is well aware of the tavern owner's temper.

The crumpled drinker in the corner is a testament to that!

Horace carefully followed behind Congreve into the tavern. Before entering, he looked back at the drunken alcoholic, and seemed to perceive the uncontrollable life energy overflowing with inexplicable pressure.

Extraordinary Knight?!

................................

Judging from the outdated appearance from the outside, this tavern is not small, occupying almost half of Silent Hutong.

But all the impressions changed after entering. The interior of the tavern is rough and heavy, with brown wooden barrels piled up on the left and right sides, leaving only a narrow aisle, and the open cork filled the air with the smell of malt wine.

For Gragas, drinking is the only thing more important than fighting, especially since he has an unquenchable thirst for stronger and stronger ale. (Gulagas has an unwavering love for ale.)

Driven by this craving, he began to search for the strongest and most unusual ingredients to distill, and to brew some ale himself.

The brewed ale always needs different people to try and give opinions. The meaning of this tavern is here, providing him with constant insights and inspiration.

Of course, as a true 'brewmaster', Gragas doesn't mind giving some puny rewards to those who try.

What kind of ale do you want to drink? Gragas twisted his huge body, and his orange-red beard wiped the wine-stained tabletop.

Congreve and Horace passed through the narrow aisle and sat on the high chair. After the two looked at each other unnaturally, Congreve, a regular customer, spoke first.

Highly concentrated ale, taste doesn't matter.

He still has a certain understanding of the tavern owner in front of him. An alcoholic who has an uncontrollable pursuit of high-strength ale, especially likes to brew it himself, and then invites some guests who come to try it.

If only these are not bad, but when this alcoholic has terrifying strength and a temperamental temper, everything becomes less beautiful.

However, none of the above prevents this from becoming the default 'holy place' for all mercenaries in the town of Ervindale.

Because those high-concentration ale have the effect of slightly increasing strength.

Horace nodded slightly to the tavern owner, meaning that he and Congreve made the same choice, but he carefully observed the person in front of him while the tavern owner turned around to get the wine.

The orange-red hair was scattered on the back, and the smooth top of the head seemed to be tattooed with some kind of magic pattern, which had a strange and eccentric feeling. The special metal buckle binds the messy beard, and with the movements of the tavern owner, it wobbles constantly,

The huge body looks like fat, but sometimes the muscles that qiu up give people a strong sense of strength. The most obvious is that when the wine is made, the extremely subtle and vast life energy flashes away.

Happy time is over, you are welcome to enjoy it! Gragas didn't care about Horace's observation. He could crush and shred the existence of such a weak chicken.

Okay, thank you boss! Congreve couldn't wait to drink the high-strength ale in one gulp, and instantly the bright red color climbed up his cheeks, and the already sober eyes were confused and blurred.

Horace, who came here for the first time, also learned the same way. He drank the ale in his hand in one gulp, and the spilled thick liquor exuded an intoxicating aroma.

Gulu! Gulu!

Before they could savor the ale in their mouths, Congreve and Horace sank their heads, then slipped to the bottom of the table as if unconscious, lying on the ground of the tavern regardless of their image.

Seeing the situation in front of him, Gragas did not know where to find a notepad, which was densely recorded with various data and drink information.

what!?

Gragas, who was collecting data, glanced at Horace in surprise. There seemed to be strange things in the little guy's body, but these were none of his business.

For Gragas, drinking and brewing are the most important things, everything else is nothingness, and oh, and the battle is a little bit of my interest.

He threw the drunken bodies of Horace and Congreve out of the door, just like the guy before, sleeping soundly in the cold alley.

................................

Okay, don't hide anymore, what's the matter? Shadow Streamer. Gragas closed the door of the tavern, turned and glanced at the shadow in the corner, his calm eyes seemed to see through everything, locked on the shadow hidden in the shadow. Thin figure.

Sorry, Mr. Gragas, uninvited and compelled to come, Mr. Gregory is waiting for you to visit the official mansion. The hoarse and low words passed the news, and then turned into a shadow and dissipated, silently. Leave the pub.

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