Ken looked around.
There were many highlighted parts, all of which were people or objects worth noting.
He observed carefully and followed the clues that others could not notice.
Everyone followed Zhan Jing and protected the two children in the middle.
Shops that were connected to each other, places full of debauchery, and fake boxing rings with shady dealings.
They passed by gamblers who had lost their money, freaks who sold poisonous insect secret medicine, orcs with animal features...
Finally, they walked into the hall of a tavern.
The mercenaries who had delivered the commission were waiting to get drunk.
A few small tribes were sitting at the table by the window, talking in low voices. They had dark skin and conspicuous and strange features on their faces.
Ken's eyes passed over all the customers and saw a few people talking in the corner.
In the shelves of goods, almost everyone would cover up a little. Those who dared to walk around the black market were the following types:
Ken was a newcomer and didn't know how to hide.
Wachel was paranoid and unwilling to hide; the agent on his left was familiar with all kinds of tricks and did not need to hide; the rich man on his right was arrogant and disdained to hide.
"The last one."
The agent put the potion on the table, rubbed his hands and waited quietly, his eyes constantly switching between the employer and the blacksmith.
Wachel did not take it, but pushed out a bag of coins.
His expression was tangled, and normal communication seemed very difficult, especially for such a matter of asking for help. His voice was hoarse and he kept coughing dryly: "This is all my money."
The employer shook his head.
He frowned and said, "Do you think I lack wealth? What I want is a weapon made by a spirit craftsman, that's all. I can give you enough money for retirement, and then take you and your apprentice to live in the capital."
"I don't want to." Wachel looked very bad. "I don't want him to leave the North."
The employer was completely angry.
The potions and patience he had paid during this period were enough to show his generosity.
"You want everything!"
He stood up, slapping the table, and then sat down again under the gazes of the people around him.
The agent raised his arms and pressed them down, first apologized to the customer with a smile, and then turned to persuade Wachel:
"Even if you are the best spirit craftsman in the Dua tribe, you are too greedy. Think about Arthur. The nearest god is in Elwei's military camp. If you can't make a decision today, he won't even have time to get to the Red Maple Highlands, and will die of illness on the ancient road."
Wachel was silent for a long time, and his old arm slowly stretched out to the potion.
The customer and the agent sighed. After so much trouble, they finally persuaded this old guy.
Suddenly, a black glove broke into everyone's sight and took the glass bottle directly.
"It's too late."
Ken said as he unbuttoned his luxurious coat.
Quima stepped forward to catch it with his right arm, and then retreated to the back. Several iron guards who stood up and approached were blocked by the human wall formed by the riders.
Ken frowned, and felt a sharp pain in his head.
[Status: Chaos and Disorder 43%]
A magic circle unfolded on the floor tiles under the military boots, and a shallow tongue of fire was brewing.
[Magic: Flashpoint Flame]
He activated the Battle Banner.
The blue flames were like a thin python, circling down along the thigh, and shattered the magic in the blink of an eye.
The magician chanted halfway, and the archer was ready to go.
Ken held the potion in one hand and the steel sword at his waist in the other hand. His fingers slowly pressed against the leather straps, and he said in an extremely calm and cold tone:
"I'm just here to talk. Whoever moves again will no longer need protection."
The employer's eyelids twitched.
His name is Ivan, the son of the lord of the Elwe city-state.
Not long ago, he personally asked the guards to "keep a distance where they can't hear the conversation."
Who would have thought that an accident would suddenly happen? Now the steel sword is right in front of him, and even the scratches can be seen. The people under his command can no longer protect themselves.
He regretted it in his heart.
Unless the knights of the lord's direct line are present, no one is sure to save people at this distance.
Ivan asked indignantly.
"How much is the ransom?"
[City-State Elwei: Slightly alienated]
Ken shook his head and smiled.
He let go of his hand, and Ivan breathed a sigh of relief.
Ken pulled out a chair and sat down, filling the last empty seat at the square table. He ignored the gazes of the three people and instead carefully examined the glass bottle in his hand.
[Potion: True Spirit Extraction Agent]
[Quality: Excellent]
[Potion that removes the violent state, can restore people's sanity, and has a suppressive effect on the curse of the dead. ]
Compared with the bottle of Asian dragon blood, the texture of the container is a little worse, and the liquid inside is thinner.
"Why is it too late?"
Wachier had seen Ken in the workshop, and then met him here again. It was obvious that he came for him. Maybe the furnace owner had some ideas?
"He promised you to go to the military camp in Red Maple Highlands."
Ken pointed to the employer in luxurious clothes, and then continued: "This will take at least a week, but can your apprentice survive two days?"
The first half of the sentence is well known, and the second half comes from the judgment of the notes.
The intermediary coughed twice, and he felt that he should interrupt, and said carefully: "Mr. Ivan came on a giant eagle, so he should..."
But no matter what he said, Wachier's expression did not change, his brows were furrowed, and I don't know what he was thinking.
[Attitude: Heart in a mess]
Ken could see the blacksmith's entanglement, patted his shoulder, and whispered: "I can try."
"You?"
Ivan and Wachel asked at the same time.
The agent raised his eyebrows, politely but awkwardly hiding his smile. There are indeed people who can solve this problem, but no matter what profession, it will not be like Ken.
"Do you know Arthur's situation?"
"Maybe."
Ken stood up and prepared to leave.
He had a rough guess through this bottle of potion, but if it was true, then he would be the one who was entangled.
Wachel sat there and needed some time to digest.
"Your apprentice only has two days. If you must go to Red Maple Highlands, I suggest you set off now. If you change your mind, Mr. Malungu knows how to contact me."
Ken pushed the chair back.
Three twisted and tangled faces were reflected on his polished dark armor.
Kuima walked forward and put his fur coat on the shoulders of Zhan Jing. The team walked out of the tavern under the gaze of everyone.
Wachel was a paranoid guy.
He had a flawed character. It was useless to explain patiently and persuade him kindly. Only by using pressure to force him to think could we quickly weigh the pros and cons and make the most correct choice.
Ken sent the brother and sister to the entrance of the shelf and gave them all the dry food they brought with them.
"Sir."
Kuima still remembered the instructions and did not call out Zhan Jing casually outside. He relayed the news he got from the slave traders, including the black market and basic situation of Duwa Village.
Several people discussed finding a place to eat and chat.
But Ken suddenly heard footsteps chasing from behind.
He turned his head and saw the imposing Wachel, who was staring with round eyes and his beard bound by a ring scratched his chest.
"Come with me, let you try, I trust the master of the furnace."
This was Ken's own idea, and had nothing to do with Mr. Malungu.
Of course, he didn't say anything, and followed behind without comment, walking towards the old blacksmith's house in the east district.