Translator: AnubisTL
The one-eared werewolf leading the pack paced to the side of the merchant wagon, its nostrils flaring as it sniffed the cargo container. A grin split its face, revealing a row of bone-white fangs.
"What's in here?" it growled.
"Dragon... dragon blood..." the apprentice began, but Nick cut him off. "Chicken blood stone. Just some cheap chicken blood stone."
The werewolf ignored him, its claw slashing through the air as the lock on the cargo container snapped open with a sharp crack.
The lid flew open, revealing the red chicken blood stones piled inside. They gleamed brightly in the sunlight, but radiated no magical energy—utterly worthless junk to the monster clans of the wilderness.
"Where's the black oil? The magic energy stones?" the one-eared werewolf demanded, its eyes blazing with malice.
Nick's gaze flickered. "Great werewolf, you've been disappointed. We didn't carry those goods on this trip. But if you require them, I swear I'll return with black oil and magic energy stones next time and give you the best price."
The werewolf grinned, baring its teeth. "Wolf cubs! Knock these humans out and tie them up! Kill anyone who resists on the spot."
Nick froze. "Wait, hold on!"
Before he could finish, the one-eared werewolf swiped at him.
The world spun violently.
Nick's last vision was of a blinding white sky, his ears filled with his companions' panicked cries and the werewolf's guttural growl.
Having witnessed the fate of the scarface coachman, the others dared not resist. Resistance would only lead to death, so they submitted to being knocked unconscious and bound.
Crescent Moon Valley, Howling Moon Clan territory.
Under the night sky, as dark as velvet, the unconscious humans were brought here one by one.
The red-iron dragon sat perched in the shadow of a rock-wall cave, concealing himself. His calm gaze silently observed the humans below from his hidden vantage point.
More accurately, he observed the humans and one "child of devils."
Garos noticed the antelope-like horns on the sorcerer's head and her green eyes. He also sensed a peculiar aura radiating from her—a blend of evil, chaos, and something distinctly human.
At first glance, Garos was puzzled. Could it be that some human had a relationship beyond friendship with an antelope, resulting in this horned sorcerer?
But in the next moment, his dragon heritage naturally surfaced with the relevant knowledge, revealing the truth.
This sorcerer was not a pure-blooded human, nor was she a hybrid born of a human and an antelope. Their race was called the tiefling, which in Common also meant "children of devils."
Tieflings are humans with devil blood.
Derived from human bloodlines, they generally resemble humans. However, the devilish lineage leaves clear marks on their appearance: horns on their heads and tails behind their backs clearly mark them as outsiders.
In the human world—
No, perhaps in all civilized worlds—tieflings are unwelcome wherever they go, due to their demonic heritage.
This is compounded by the gaze, fear, and distrust they inspire in others.
Though tieflings are not inherently evil, the vast majority are driven to evil paths by this prejudice. This, in turn, reinforces the stereotype of tieflings as wicked creatures, creating a vicious cycle.
A discriminated-against, unwelcome child of devils and a somewhat shabby merchant caravan—that combination makes sense, Garos thought.
But why does this female tiefling have pupils? The inheritance says their eyes are solid-colored, with no whites or pupils.
The red-iron dragon flicked his tail, puzzled.
Could this tiefling have other bloodlines mixed in? How intriguing.
Meanwhile,
A burly werewolf doused the group with cold water, jolting them awake from their unconscious state.
Through his quasi-spell skill, mind sense, Garos's thoughts directly reached the old shaman's mind.
He remained hidden behind the scenes, while the old shaman carried out his will. Turning to Maggie, he said, "Child of devils, your green eyes are more like an elf's than a tiefling's."
Maggie was slightly startled.
She hadn't expected these wild monster clans to know her identity.
In her experience, these clans, though intelligent, had shallow understanding and barbaric ways, making communication difficult.
On the other side, Nick's eyes lit up at the old shaman's words.
This old shaman seemed different. He knew about children of devils, tieflings, and possessed knowledge beyond that of other werewolves. He seemed capable of communication.
If they could communicate, they could negotiate.
Nick was confident that with his silver tongue, he could at least secure a chance to live.
If luck favored him, he might even establish stable trade relations with this werewolf clan, acquiring their furs, claws, fangs, and ores at low prices. This could be a chance to strike it rich.
Merchants know how to seize every opportunity to make a profit.
Nick immediately interjected, his face beaming as he explained for the taciturn Maggie, "Oh, the fact that you recognize a tiefling shows you're a wise and far-sighted werewolf elder."
"Her eyes are enhanced with cosmetic lenses, a small invention by alchemists that's very popular in the Southern Kingdoms."
Nick shifted his gaze.
Maggie silently removed the lenses, revealing a pair of pure, somewhat bewitching green eyes.
"If you like such trinkets, or anything else you desire, I can procure them for you at the most favorable prices. Of course, that's provided you let us go and give us a chance to earn your trust."
Nick said with a wide smile.
So it was just contact lenses... No wonder her eyes looked a bit strange.
Garos remained impassive, his gaze shifting from the tiefling sorcerer to Nick.
The merchant's ordinary appearance and hint of shrewdness hadn't initially caught Garos's attention. But his audacious attempt to peddle wares and establish trade while surrounded by wolves piqued Garos's interest.
"This one might be useful," he thought, then conveyed his idea to the old shaman.
The old shaman understood immediately. After asking for Nick's name, he cut straight to the point: "Human, I require black oil and magic energy stones. Can you procure them?"
Black oil and magic energy stones?
What would the monster clans of the wilderness want with those?
The shaman before him, and the one-eared werewolf who had questioned him earlier, had both mentioned black oil and magic energy stones.
Nick glanced around with the corner of his eye, but saw no large alchemy golems.
Although some werewolves wore alchemical equipment, none of it required black oil or magic energy stones.
For instance, the steam car he used for hauling goods ran on combustion stones, a cheaper mineral than black oil.
Black oil served a more advanced purpose, primarily powering alchemy golems and large-scale alchemical devices. Magic energy stones were similar, but offered higher energy efficiency than black oil.
"Of course, of course," Nick said, straightening his chest. He even dared to stand up and brush some dust from the hem of his clothes.
He bowed respectfully to the old shaman and said, "Black oil is widely used and can be obtained through legitimate channels in the Southern Kingdoms. As for magic energy stones, while they are somewhat troublesome, I can guarantee I can bring you some."
The dragon Garos flicked its tail slightly, its eyes narrowing.
Indeed, things difficult to obtain in the wilderness could be easily acquired by establishing a trade route to the Southern Kingdoms. Just like the chicken blood stones, which were common and worthless in the wilderness, they became valuable jewelry materials in the Southern Kingdoms.
Some things...
May be worth nothing at their place of origin,
But their value skyrockets elsewhere.
In this process, securing a reliable, controllable, and sustainable "channel" is the most crucial thing.
"You've earned yourself a chance to live," the old shaman said with a faint smile, baring his fangs at Nick. "However, humans are inherently greedy, untrustworthy—especially human merchants."
Nick's heart skipped a beat.
He quickly said, "Oh, I swear by the souls of all my ancestors! I'm not like other merchants. Everyone who's traded with me trusts me implicitly because of my honesty."
(End of the Chapter)
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