I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Chapter 136 Geralt: My legend is everywhere! What's going on?

Two burly men stood at the entrance of the bathhouse, wearing leather armor and carrying long swords at their waists; they were clearly well-trained thugs.

Zig stepped forward.

One of the burly men raised his hand and stopped him.

"Please wait, sir, we've already closed."

"I need to speak with your employer," Zieg said.

The burly man looked him up and down.

"He's not in now."

"I know he's here. Go tell him that Geralt of Rivia is looking for him."

The burly man was stunned for a moment.

Geralt of Rivia?

White Wolf?

The burly man had certainly heard of the famous Witcher Geralt.

Because he is the protagonist of one of Novigrad's most popular poems, "The Storm of Wolves".

He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.

"I cannot guarantee that Mr. Lu Wen will definitely see you."

"You just need to report it. If he really refuses to see me, I'll just leave."

The burly man's gaze swept over the steel sword at Zieg's waist and the Wolf School leather armor he was wearing.

"Please wait a moment."

After saying that, one of the burly men pushed open the bathhouse door and strode inside.

Zieg stood at the door, waiting quietly.

I didn't keep him waiting long.

The bathhouse gates soon reopened.

A tall man walked out.

He was a eunuch, obese, with a chin wider than his forehead, and the flesh on his face piled up so that his neck was almost invisible.

He wore a gorgeous, tight-fitting top, his hands behind his back, his demeanor exuding a well-trained elegance.

Good evening, sir.

The eunuch bowed and paid his respects.

"Mr. Luwen cordially invites you to meet. If you have any other requests, please let me know. My name is Harbin, and I am Mr. Luwen's butler."

Zieg nodded.

"Lead the way."

Habin made a gesture of invitation.

"This way, please."

Zig followed Habin into the bathhouse.

The bathhouse is much more spacious inside than it appears from the outside, and its decorations are quite elaborate.

The floor was covered with non-slip marble tiles, and the walls on both sides were inlaid with colorful glazed ceramic tiles. A rich fragrance filled the air, mixed with the aroma of rising steam and precious herbs.

But Habin did not bring Zig inside.

-

He stopped in front of a room.

"Sir, this is the changing room."

Habin pushed open the door and gestured for him to enter.

"Mr. Lu Wen is accustomed to receiving guests in the bathhouse, so please change your clothes here."

His tone was respectful, but the meaning behind his words was very clear.

"As for your equipment, we will keep it safe and return it to you when you leave."

Zieg glanced at the locker room.

The interior was spacious and bright, with a row of exquisite carved wooden cabinets against the wall, several stacks of clean bath towels exuding fragrance on the bench, and several large, pure white bathrobes hanging on the clothes rack.

Zieg understood Habin's intention.

A gentleman is open and honest.

Wearing a bathrobe means you can't hide your weapons.

This Sigir Luwen is indeed as cautious as he knows him.

Zieg did not hesitate.

He went into the locker room, closed the door, and then took the steel sword from his waist and placed it on the stool.

Yes, a steel sword.

Because he had put Langrisser into the Book of Adventures before even arriving at the bathhouse.

Then he took off his Wolf School leather armor and put on a white bathrobe.

Zig straightened his bathrobe and pushed open the changing room door again.

Habin was waiting respectfully outside the door.

He glanced into the changing room; the leather armor and sword were already removed.

He adopted a professional expression and bowed again.

"Sir, please follow me."

Habin led Zig through a long corridor.

Expensive wall lamps hung on the walls on both sides of the corridor, and the soft candlelight illuminated the entire space warmly and brightly.

The air was filled with rising moisture, mixed with a refreshing herbal aroma, making people feel relaxed and comfortable.

This is indeed the best bath in Novigrad.

Every detail exudes luxury and sophistication, from the marble floor tiles underfoot to the exquisite reliefs carved on the walls, all showcasing the owner's taste and wealth.

Maids passed by in the corridor from time to time, wearing light gauze dresses and carrying towels and bath salts, their footsteps light and silent.

As Zieg walked past them, the maids' eyes involuntarily fell on him.

A pure white bathrobe draped loosely over Zieg's shoulders, yet it couldn't conceal his tall and slender figure.

His arms, shoulders, neck, and back were all incredibly powerful, but it wasn't the exaggerated, lifeless flesh that a tavern thug might have built up with brute force. Instead, it was a balanced and solid physique without a single superfluous embellishment.

Under the soft light of the corridor, his pale, cool skin and slender, taut muscles intertwined, reflecting an extraordinary quality that was both extremely elegant and subtly dangerous.

Of course, the most eye-catching thing is that face.

With black hair and blue eyes, outstanding features, and a handsome profile that is so striking that it is impossible to look away, his handsomeness does not appear gentle at all.

The maids' cheeks flushed involuntarily.

Zieg ignored this and simply followed Habin forward.

After passing through the corridor and turning several corners, they arrived at a private room at the deepest part of the bathhouse.

Habin stopped and pushed open the door.

"Sir, please come in."

Zig stepped into the private room.

This is a private bathhouse specially prepared for distinguished guests. It is not large in size, but it is decorated with great care.

The surrounding walls are inlaid with colorful mosaic tiles.

In the center of the room was a circular bathtub with crystal-clear water, from which wisps of steam rose.

A person was sitting in the bathtub.

He was a fat man.

His body was so huge that it resembled a mountain of flesh, with thick layers of fat piled up, making it almost impossible to discern his original shape.

His head was bald, like a round ball of flesh, with a pair of tiny eyes that were almost slits.

A white towel was draped around his neck, covering his thick chest.

This is Sigir Luwen.

One of the four big bosses of the Novigrad mob.

"Harbin, who is this person?"

Geralt of Rivia.

Harbin, who followed Zieg in, answered respectfully.

The fat man frowned.

His small eyes stared straight at Zieg, his gaze sharp as a knife, as if trying to see right through him.

"Damn it."

He snorted coldly, his tone full of anger.

"He's not Geralt. I've seen Geralt, white hair, cat eyes, and a scar on his face. Are you fucking kidding me?"

His gaze sharpened.

"Tell me, who sent you?"

Zieg stood by the bathtub, his expression calm and unperturbed by his imposing presence.

"Don't get excited, Sigir Luwen."

"Or should I call you—Sigismund Dijkstra?"