After about ten seconds, a wooden panel on the door slid open. A pair of vigilant eyes peered through the small window at the three figures standing outside, their gaze filled with scrutiny.
A moment later, the person behind the door seemed to recognize Caspars and closed the panel before opening the door just a crack.
"You should've warned me you were bringing people. Actually, scratch that—there won't be a next time!" An angry voice came from behind the door.
Caspars rolled his eyes and gestured with a glance for the two attendees he'd brought to hurry inside.
Adjusting the cardboard mask on her face, Angel squeezed through the gap and entered the room. The black-haired man followed close behind.
Behind the door stood a tall man also wearing an iron mask. He handed them two crude hooded robes and said, "Put these on. Follow me."
Angel obeyed, donning the robe and pulling up the hood, leaving only her mask and a strand of black hair—disguised by the "Ring of Madness"—visible. She followed "Iron Mask" through the corridor and a pitch-dark living room until they reached a sitting room.
More than a dozen people were already inside, scattered across sofas and chairs. All wore hooded robes and iron masks, gathered around a coffee table with a single small candle flickering on it, casting faint color into the darkened room.
When new members entered, several people near the door turned their heads toward the entrance.
Only then did Angel realize her predicament. Everyone else wore iron masks—she was the only one with a homemade dog mask, immediately drawing a wave of curious stares.
Is it too late to turn around and leave?
She regretted following Mr. A's Beyonder gathering customs by bringing her own mask. But leaving now might make people think she was an official investigator infiltrating the underground meeting, which could cause even greater chaos.
Fortunately, those masked gazes quickly returned to a member who had been speaking, allowing Angel to find a single-person sofa in the corner and sit down.
"Is no one really willing to help? I can offer two bottles of homemade potions as payment. You should all know the quality of my work."
A man with chubby cheeks beneath his mask sat in a chair near the central coffee table. He glanced in Angel's direction, remembering new members had joined, and repeated his request.
It turned out this unlucky fellow had been secretly cultivating medicinal herbs in the city's sewers. Just as harvest season arrived, mysterious beasts had appeared in the sewers, devouring his precious, versatile herbs while leaving the poisonous ones untouched.
The chubby-faced man was willing to pay two bottles of homemade potions for someone capable of dealing with these beasts to help clear out the Backlund Bridge District sewers.
"I've sold potions here before. Everyone should know their effectiveness—they stop bleeding and promote healing faster and better than getting stitches at a clinic."
The man bragged like a street vendor hawking inferior liquor.
Cultivating herbs and making various potions... Could he be an "Apothecary"?
Angel recalled that church internal records mentioned the Earth Mother Church possessed two pathways: "Apothecary" and "Planter." The former was incomplete but documented, most notably for its expertise in preparing various medicines.
He seems to be just a Sequence 9 "Apothecary." If he'd reached Sequence 8 "Beast Tamer," he could drive away those herb-eating beasts himself...
While Angel pondered, the apothecary received no response from other members and grew anxious.
"I'll add two more bottles—valid for over a month. They'll help gentlemen reclaim their youthful vigor and become extraordinary in the bedroom... if you know what I mean." The corners of his mouth curved beneath the mask as he emphasized, "Even after expiration, they'll fill you with energy and improve speed and agility, though using them will leave you more exhausted afterward."
Now he sounds even more like a quack peddling snake oil with exaggerated claims...
Angel thought to herself.
A few members in the corner seemed tempted but probably concerned about the sewers' dangers, so they didn't speak up.
"Besides that, I'll add 30 pounds cash. Please, those herbs are really important to me."
A pleading note entered the apothecary's voice.
30 pounds just to deal with a few beasts destroying herbs?
Angel's eyes lit up. Seeing someone across from her about to accept the commission, she quickly said, "I can help you solve this, but you need to pay half upfront. After I resolve the problem, you'll pay the other half."
As soon as she spoke, several gazes—including that of the black-haired man who'd entered with her—immediately turned her way.
I just want the money. I'm really not interested in those potions...
Feeling the speculation and teasing in their stares, she added silently to herself.
"Excellent! You're new here, right? This matter can be witnessed by Mr. 'Eye of Wisdom,' so you needn't worry I'll default on payment."
The apothecary, relieved someone had accepted the commission, replied.
An elderly man with withered skin and prominent nasolabial folds sitting in an oversized armchair beside the coffee table nodded. "No problem."
So he's the "Eye of Wisdom"? He seems similar to Mr. A—the gathering's organizer and order keeper. Is he also a Beyonder?
Angel speculated as she nodded in agreement, then watched the chubby apothecary hand several bills and two bottles of potion in transparent glass containers to the tall man who'd led Angel in, who then passed them to her.
Through this, Angel understood this gathering's transaction format. Unlike Mr. A's organized meetings, this was more like a loose discussion group where everyone directly proposed trades or commissions, negotiated on the spot, with the organizer "Eye of Wisdom" witnessing transactions.
No wonder they all wear masks. Otherwise, trading in front of everyone would easily expose their identities...
Accepting the 15 pounds advance payment and placing the red and deep green potions separately in her pockets, Angel looked again at the chubby apothecary.
"When the gathering ends, we'll leave together."
He seemed unwilling to discuss details in front of everyone, only adding this brief comment.
After the first transaction was completed, the gathering's atmosphere livened up. Another man of indiscernible features began hawking a mystical item—a gemstone necklace that supposedly brought three months of rolling wealth. Its name was simple and direct: "Fortune Accessory."
Having just received a 15-pound advance, Angel's inner desire for money hadn't diminished but intensified. She curiously inquired about the accessory's price, only to be immediately scared off by the 1,000-pound asking price.
Soon, the mystical item was purchased. Angel was curious whether the buyer could truly recoup the cost within three months.
After several more successful and failed transactions, the black-haired man who'd arrived with Angel pushed up his iron mask on his nose bridge and said in a lowered voice, "I have an item to sell."
He pulled a small iron box from his pocket and removed a jelly-like deep red object.
"I found this on a corpse. I don't know what it does, but perhaps you all can discover its purpose?"
This thing... why does it look somewhat like...
Angel clenched her teeth and activated her spirit vision. Beside the man's aura outlined in white light, the "jelly" radiated a spiritual glow like fresh blood.
Without doubt, it was a Beyonder characteristic!
Seemingly sensing her observation, the man turned his head toward her, his brown eyes beneath the mask carrying a hint of caution and curiosity.