"It was like this. A distant relative of mine—or rather, a distant relative of that distant relative—has been carrying around a huge piece of something lately. I don't know whether it's some kind of metal or iron. Not only is it as light as a feather, it's also incredibly hard. Something like that should normally be easy to find a buyer for, but the boy's got a stubborn streak. Whenever people ask him about it, he refuses to sell. No matter how much they offer, he won't sell. The strange thing is, he keeps begging everyone he knows to help him find a buyer. Whenever I ask why, he always says he can't tell me. I saw that the City Lord was looking for metal and iron to forge a divine sword, so I thought I'd see whether he might be willing to meet him..." The head chef looked to be in his fifties or sixties. He was thin as a rake, yet his eyes darted about shrewdly—clearly the sort who liked to cut corners and fish for opportunities.
"A seller like that—how could he possibly find a buyer? Has he never even said how he wants to sell it? Then why come looking for a buyer at all? Can't he see how large the Forging Bureau is?" the Boundary Warden couldn't help asking.
"It's not that he can't see it... The boy's just stubborn. When he encounters something he doesn't like, he simply refuses to speak. The thing is good, but the Forging Bureau can't exactly seize it by force..." the head chef said with a bitter smile.
"What do you mean, seize it by force!? Do you even know how to speak? Under my rule, those two words alone are forbidden to say!" The Boundary Warden immediately straightened