(Pure mage story; slow burn at the start. The Little Green Bottle isn't especially powerful, but it's essential. The early stages might be a little frustrating—after all, he is a frail low-level mage. He needs to endure for a while; things will improve greatly after he advances to the intermediate level.)
The small town slept beneath the snow, its narrow streets deserted. Only the chimney of this tavern still sent up cooking smoke that tangled with the cold.
The wooden door creaked open, bringing in a biting chill. The person who entered wore a long, oversized black hooded cloak. He looked somewhat thin and frail, his entire face hidden beneath the black hood, revealing only his sharply defined jaw.
He stepped into the tavern, his boots leaving wet footprints across the floorboards. The tavern's noisy chatter paused for a moment before resuming, but every eye subtly followed this unexpected visitor.
"Boss." A young man's voice came from beneath the cloak. "Do you have any Moonlight Grass?"
Behind the counter, the plump Tavern Owner was polishing a copper goblet. At the question, a gleam flashed through his beady eyes.
"Moonlight Grass?" He set down the goblet and lowered his voice. "That's a rare item, sir. Are you sure that's what you're asking for?"
The cloaked man did not answer. He merely extended a long, pale hand from beneath his cloak, three Jintana coins pinched between his fingers, and gently placed them on the counter. The gold coins rang crisply against the wooden surface, drawing glances from the patrons at several nearby tables.
The Tavern Owner's eyes narrowed into slits. He looked around, then bent down and retrieved a small wooden box from beneath the counter. Opening it just a crack, he let the cloaked man take a look.
Inside lay a plant emitting a faint blue glow. Its leaves curved like crescent moons, and its veins were crystal-clear.
"It was picked from the Misty Forest this morning. There's only this one." He licked his lips. "Five Jintana. Nonnegotiable."
The cloaked man considered it, then added two more gold coins. He took the wooden box and tucked it into his cloak. At that moment, a cold snort came from a corner of the tavern.
"Five Jintana for a lousy weed?" A rough voice rang out. "Either he's an idiot or he's got more money than he knows what to do with."
The speaker was the leader of the Blood Wolf Mercenary Group, a burly man with a face full of flesh. He rose to his feet, the greatsword at his waist clanging against his armor. The four or five men behind him stood as well.
Compared to other magical plants, Moonlight Grass was not particularly scarce, but its uses were extremely broad and demand always exceeded supply. Even at the highest market price, it was worth no more than three Jintana.
Jintana was the largest denomination of currency in the Longsheng Empire. As one of the continent's four great empires, Longsheng's currency was quite stable. Compared to the complicated monetary system of another of the four great empires, the Huarong Empire, its system was especially simple. Beneath it were only Silver Nar and Copper Mark: 1 Jintana = 10 Silver Nar = 10,000 Copper Mark.
An adult man's daily income was only seventy to eighty Copper Mark. A buckwheat loaf large enough to fill an adult's stomach cost around five Mark. Although prices varied by region due to geography, the difference never exceeded one Mark either way.
Five Jintana meant fifty thousand Copper Mark, enough that an adult man would need to save without eating or drinking for two years to afford it.
The cloaked man acted as though he had heard nothing. Without even turning his head, he continued facing the Tavern Owner. "Do you have any other rare medicinal herbs here?"
The mercenary leader had coveted that Moonlight Grass for a long time, but he had never been able to settle on a price. His rare attempt at a kind reminder had been ignored, and anger immediately flared within him. He strode toward the counter and shouted, "Hey, you in the cloak! I'm talking to you!"
The atmosphere in the tavern suddenly grew tense. The Tavern Owner remained calm; he had seen scenes like this often enough. His beady eyes shifted back and forth between the cloaked man and the mercenary leader.
The mercenary leader reached out to grab the cloaked man's shoulder. "Let me see who dares to act up on Blood Wolf territory..."
Just as his fingers were about to touch the black cloak, the cloaked man suddenly turned around. Two cold points of light lit up beneath his hood—his eyes. More terrifyingly, complex blue runes surfaced within them, flowing as though alive.
"Hmph!" the young voice barked.
The mercenary leader's body abruptly froze. His fierce expression slowly shifted into disbelief, then terror. His knees bent beyond his control and slammed heavily into the floor with a dull thud. He tried to struggle, only to discover that nothing but his eyes could move.
The tavern fell deathly silent. The mercenary leader's four subordinates had their hands on their weapons, watching nervously, yet none dared make a reckless move.
"A spellcaster..." someone whispered in horror.
The cloaked man swept his gaze around the tavern. Everyone who met his eyes lowered their heads, not daring to look at him. At last, his gaze returned to the mercenary leader, whose forehead was beaded with sweat and whose eyes were full of terror.
"Thank you for the reminder, but I don't like people who put their hands on others. Now, take your men and leave this tavern." As he spoke, the runes in his eyes gradually faded.
The moment he finished speaking, the mercenary leader found that he could move again. He immediately scrambled toward the door, with his men close behind. The sound of wind and snow briefly rushed in, then vanished.
The Tavern Owner could no longer maintain his composure. His voice trembled. "M-Milord is a spellcaster?"
The cloaked man did not answer directly. He simply asked again, "Do you have any other rare medicinal herbs?"
The Tavern Owner swallowed, hesitation flickering in his beady eyes. "Since milord is interested in Moonlight Grass, I wonder... would you also need Nishang Grass?"
The cloaked man's body visibly paused. Though the movement was slight, a shrewd merchant like the Tavern Owner could not possibly miss that reaction.
"You have Nishang Grass?" For the first time, the cloaked man's voice wavered.
The Tavern Owner looked around and lowered his voice. "This isn't the place to talk. If milord doesn't mind, we can discuss it in detail in the back."
The cloaked man was silent for a moment, then nodded. The Tavern Owner called over a waiter and gave a few instructions before leading the cloaked man through the crowded tavern hall toward the corridor in the rear.
"This way, milord." The Tavern Owner's voice was openly flattering as he pushed open a wooden door. Warm yellow light spilled out from within.
The cloaked man did not step forward immediately. His gaze swept over the shadows in a corner of the courtyard, where something seemed to move. "Your men are quite diligent," he said blandly, with no emotion detectable in his voice.
Fine beads of sweat formed on the Tavern Owner's forehead despite the cold weather. "It's... it's only as a precaution. Please forgive us, milord."
The cloaked man gave a soft laugh, and the sound made the hairs on the Tavern Owner's neck stand on end. He said nothing more and stepped into the room.
The room was more spacious than expected. A heavy oak table occupied the center, while several maps of the border region hung on the walls. One of them specifically marked part of the Misty Forest. The cloaked man's gaze lingered on that map for a moment.
"Sit, please sit, milord." The Tavern Owner eagerly pulled out a chair. "Would you like something to drink? We have excellent—"
"The news about the Nishang Grass." The cloaked man cut him off, lightly tapping his fingers against the tabletop. "Tell me everything."
The Tavern Owner swallowed, his fat fingers rubbing together uneasily.
"Here's what happened, milord. Three months ago, we accepted a commission to hunt an Ice Leopard active nearby. The group sent out its best tracker, and after nearly a month, he finally found that beast's lair."
The cloaked man nodded slightly, signaling for him to continue.
"It was in a cave on the eastern side of the Misty Forest, about three or four days' journey from here." The Tavern Owner lowered his voice. "Inside that cave, he saw a mature Nishang Grass."
"Is your thief still alive?" the cloaked man suddenly asked.
The Tavern Owner froze, then gave a bitter smile. "Alive, but... not well. The Ice Leopard's cold aura invaded his body. Now he can only lie in bed, relying on potions to stay alive."
The cloaked man's fingers stopped tapping. "I need to see him."
"Th-this... given his current condition..."
"Either bring him here, or take me to see him." The cloaked man's voice remained calm, but the Tavern Owner felt a bone-piercing chill, colder than the wind and snow outside.
The Tavern Owner wiped the sweat from his forehead. After hesitating for a few seconds, he finally walked to the bookshelf on the other side of the room. He pressed a certain book, and the shelf silently slid aside, revealing a hidden door behind it.
"Please follow me, milord."
Beyond the hidden door was a narrow staircase leading down. Lamps on the walls provided faint light. The air was damp and cold, carrying the mingled scents of herbs and something rotten.
At the bottom of the stairs was a crude secret chamber. On a bed at the far end, a thin man curled up in pain.
"That's him..." the Tavern Owner said quietly. "He's been like this ever since he returned. The group's physician said that if the cold aura inside him isn't removed, he won't survive this winter."
The cloaked man walked to the bedside. The man on the bed was deathly pale, his lips an unnatural bluish-purple. Even unconscious, his body twitched from time to time. The cloaked man lifted the blanket and saw that a thin layer of frost covered the man's right arm, while the veins beneath his skin had turned an eerie blue.
"The Ice Leopard's cold poison," he said softly. "The fact that he made it back alive means he was already quite capable."
The Tavern Owner stood to one side, not daring to respond. The cloaked man held his hand above the man's forehead. Several tiny runes surfaced in his palm, glowing with a faint blue light. The runes slowly rotated, gradually forming a complex pattern.
"Mind's Eye." the cloaked man murmured.
The runes suddenly blazed brightly before sinking into the man's forehead. The man's body shook violently, and he let out a pained groan. A few seconds later, a blurry scene entered the cloaked man's mind.
A dark forest. Moonlight filtered through gaps in the canopy, casting mottled shadows. The owner of the vision moved between the trees before finally stopping before a rock wall. Beneath it was a cave entrance surrounded by ice crystals. The owner of the vision carefully slipped inside. The cave was more spacious than expected, with a nest made of dead branches and animal hides in the center. Behind the nest, a plant emitting a faint phosphorescent glow grew from a crack in the stone...
The scene suddenly shook violently, followed by a deafening beast's roar. A snow-white leopard with sapphire-bright eyes pounced from the shadows, cold mist coiling around its claws...
The connection broke. The cloaked man withdrew his hand, blue light fading from his fingertips. "Where exactly is the cave?"
The Tavern Owner rummaged through his clothes and pulled out a piece of parchment with a rough map drawn on it. "The marked location is here, near the source of Blackwater Creek."
The cloaked man studied the map for a while, then looked up. "Why choose to tell me? Even if your combat strength is insufficient, you could wait for support from headquarters. This Nishang Grass... is worth a considerable sum."
Struggle flashed through the Tavern Owner's eyes. At last, he sighed. "There isn't enough time. Only half a month remains before the commission deadline, and the people from headquarters can't arrive for another ten days at the earliest. A round trip would take more than twenty days. If the mission fails, not only will we lose the deposit, but the group's rating will also drop." He paused. "And... he... he's our brother, after all. We can't just watch him die."
The cloaked man silently watched the Tavern Owner, as though trying to see through his soul. After a long while, he finally nodded lightly.