The next morning.
Ken went through the spoils at night.
The robbers' loot contained many materials of varying quality, some essential daily necessities, valuable but worthless antiques, rare ancient relics, and terrifying magical reagents.
He arranged for people to reclassify and pack them, and stayed up all night to sort out all the valuable things.
"We'll sell them all to the shelves later."
Kuima pondered for a moment in the driver's seat and raised his concerns: "We don't understand the market and it's easy to suffer losses."
"So, we need to find professionals to handle this batch of goods for us." Ken said with a smile. "Take the main road, stop at the commercial street, and then go to the workshop in Malengu."
Kuima waved the whip.
The wheels of the convoy began to turn, and several wolf riders followed behind as guards.
Ken slept in the passenger seat, using dozing to relieve his tense nerves, and even used his experience points to repair the strain of staying up all night - as the leader of the team, he had to try his best to avoid being weak, so as not to be ambushed in the mixed territory.
The surroundings became noisy, and several caravans passed by.
When the air began to diffuse the smell of alcohol and fragrance, the carriage stopped. Ken rubbed his sleepy eyes, turned over, walked around the drunkards and prostitutes, and turned into the secret passage.
Ken waited for a while at the door of the hundred-item rack.
The familiar secret technique fell on him again.
Then, he walked straight to the most inconspicuous gambler in the corner and put his black gloves on his shoulders.
The gambler trembled slightly, still pretending to think about the bad cards.
"Mr. Malungu wants to sell a batch of goods and ask people to go to the workshop to negotiate the price."
After Ken finished speaking, he raised his luxurious dark coat, ignored all the strange eyes around him, and turned away.
The gambler half-turned his head and watched the young man walk out of the alley, and the sound of the cargo box swaying faded away.
He sighed, threw the cards on the table, twisted his nose and muttered: "Damn, how did he find out? I even turned my back to this guy this time..."
...
A little after noon, the side door of the workshop.
A dark carriage with dark patterns slowly drove in.
Behind it were two inconspicuous trucks. The short-legged camel slowed down and slowly stopped at the entrance of the alley a little away from the doorway.
The middleman in a vest walked out of the carriage.
He dipped his little finger into the liquid in the silver bottle and smeared it on his upper lip. A little blur flashed in his eyes, and then quickly became calm and sharp, and a flattering smile appeared on his face.
Kuima folded his arms and leaned against the door of the workshop.
Before the middleman walked in, he took off his horned hat and saluted, as if reminding the other party that they had met before.
That's right, this is the intermediary who received [Ivan] at the beginning.
For the order of the furnace owner of the Duwa tribe, the shelf naturally sent the most reliable candidate.
He straightened his back and greeted the person in charge skillfully. At the same time, he glanced at the apprentice's workbench with his peripheral vision, secretly remembering the number of people and new faces, which were all information.
When his eyes moved to the doorway, his pupils shrank instantly and his eyes narrowed.
The tall and strong Mr. Malungu was standing there, and opposite the furnace owner of the workshop was Ken, who was wearing black slim armor. The specific content of the conversation could not be heard clearly, and it seemed that he was entrusting something.
Malungu said in a deep voice: "He is here."
"Thank you for your help," Ken smiled, "I am a newcomer and can only rely on your reputation."
The tall furnace owner shook his head. Putting aside the other party's identity as a war flag, the most discussed thing in the workshop this morning was that Wachler praised his benefactor everywhere.
The paranoid old man was so proactive, which was something worth paying attention to.
Malengu turned and left.
He did not admit it himself. Even if this transaction caused any trouble, it would not affect him.
"Hello, Mr. Ken."
The agent was tall, thin, and had two fine teeth.
[Blood descendants, an ancient and shrewd race, have a high self-esteem and like to study people's thoughts and emotions the most. ]
"Really amazing."
Ken admired sincerely.
He had just arrived, and the other party could actually find out his name, which was indeed surprising.
"I didn't have a good time with your last employer. Will this affect our cooperation?"
"Are you talking about Lord Elwei's son? It doesn't matter."
The agent sold a piece of information to show friendship.
"The Duwa tribe is our foundation, and Mr. Malengu's craftsmanship is the key to prosperity. This is what we care about most."
Quima glared at each other at the door with the guards brought by the other party.
At this time, his own Zhan Jing and the other boss walked out talking and laughing, and the scene was extremely weird.
The attendant lifted the cloth cover on the cargo box:
Two royal paintings circulated in the southern border countries, a precious vessel from an ancient tribe, several rare gems...
And other sundries.
The agent put on the enchanted glasses.
He narrowed his eyes, glanced at it quickly, and quickly took it off. With a smile, he raised his left index finger and pressed his thumb on the first fingertip.
[Common sense: black market code, meaning to round up to 1000G. ]
Ken thought it was reasonable, and the two shook hands and laughed.
The accompanying black-skinned girl took out the purse and handed it to Kuima - if the customer touched the money himself, it would appear to be quite tasteless, and the payment for the goods was usually handed over by the servants for counting.
"Thank you for coming all the way."
"No," the agent shook his head, "I just received a batch of goods, it's just on the way, you can come and see if you are interested."
Ken nodded happily.
The workers of the hundred-item rack are transferring the goods to their own racks.
The employers of both parties came to the narrow alley together, and the servant opened the lid of the box at the back, revealing the things inside.
The agent took a half step back, bowed and stretched out his right hand.
He heard that this young man caught the sentry at the door by perception, and he also wanted to see his insight.
Ken did not take out the enchanted lens, nor did he use magic, but scanned it slowly and normally.
The agent murmured in his heart.
Is it a rumor, or is the other party not serious at all?
"Tsk, haha."
He heard the voice, squinted his eyes, frowned, and reminded in confusion: "It seems, it's not very polite."
This batch of goods has been appraised by himself, and will be sent to the auction house soon and included in the list of goods for next week. How can there be defective products?
Ken wiped the arc of the corner of his mouth with his fingers and raised his hand to indicate: Can I comment casually?
"Of course."
The agent nodded and said, "This is a request for advice."
Ken leaned close to the baffle, reached into the hollow slatted rack, and pulled out two pottery jars with strange patterns, and picked up a few boxes of old-packaged wine, and a bottle of potion that exuded an ominous smell.
The agent frowned and wanted to ask for the specific reason, but the other party was confident and refused to reveal it.
Could it be that he met a professional?
He stabilized his expression and checked it carefully twice, discarded the enchanted lens, and carefully observed and compared it with his naked eyes, and compared the weight and details...
Ken smiled and said nothing beside him.
He had no skills, and his notes were quite rough. He carefully marked the quality among a pile of [materials] and [items].
Only these few items were marked with the words [inferior] and [fake].
Ken suddenly thought of the mysterious Pistonk merchant, who could actually hide his identity by pretending to be a character to conceal the notes...
Tsk tsk.
The human heart is more unpredictable than dead matter.