After a wordless silence, the trade request initiated by that chubby, foul-mouthed fellow was passed over by old Mr. Eye of Wisdom.
"No worries if you don't have it. I wasn't expecting to find what I wanted at some random gathering anyway, and I haven't even prepared the money yet."
The fat man's muttering drew another round of sidelong glances—some speechless, some disgusted, and some admiring.
Cyril was one of the admirers. He felt that this fellow was somewhat like him: broke as hell, yet still hoping to freeload.
Of course, he definitely wasn't as obnoxious as that man. He wasn't promising material for the Hunter Pathway.
After inwardly grumbling a few times, he took advantage of the moment before anyone else spoke to state his needs first:
"I want to sell several Sequence 9 potion formulas: Seer, Apprentice, and Bard. Does anyone need them?"
If he could sell all three Sequence 9 potion formulas, he would earn 600 pounds in one go and wouldn't have to worry about the upcoming transactions.
At the very least, I need to sell one. Otherwise, I won't even be able to participate in the later trading rounds.
That was why he had made his trade request so quickly. Altogether, he couldn't even scrape together one pound.
After a brief silence, old Mr. Eye of Wisdom was the first to respond.
"I would like a potion formula for the Seer Pathway. What is your price?"
Without a second thought, Cyril replied, "200 pounds. That's the price for every potion formula. No haggling; it's already very reasonable."
Old Mr. Eye of Wisdom nodded lightly. "A reasonable price. I have no objections."
Cyril swept his gaze over the crowd, hoping to sell a few more potion formulas. Two hundred pounds was a lot for an ordinary person, but nowhere near enough for a Beyonder.
Soon, someone else spoke. "I'll take a Bard potion formula."
"All right." Cyril nodded lightly and continued scanning the room, but no one else spoke up afterward.
Four hundred pounds wasn't bad. At least the remaining 200 pounds were within the amount he could borrow from the bank.
Thinking that, he placed the two sheets of paper he had prepared before coming—one containing the Seer potion formula and the other the Bard potion formula—onto the tray held by the waiter beside him.
The waiter placed the folded paper before old Mr. Eye of Wisdom. The latter picked it up and glanced at it. The next second, a golden seal pattern appeared in the eyes behind his dark-gold mask.
"Notarized. Valid!"
Cyril was not surprised by this, but the foul-mouthed newcomer beside him sucked in a breath.
"Impressive. No wonder you dare trade potion formulas—you have a way to verify them."
"Mr. Eye of Wisdom is the second—no, third most powerful Beyonder I've ever seen."
Cyril shot the fat man beside him a surprised look, his eyes full of the urge to roast him.
Mr. Eye of Wisdom had been using mystical items all along and hadn't revealed his own abilities or Sequence at all. And you'd already ranked him?
Fat, foul-mouthed, searching for Marrow Crystal of the Elf Spring... The image of a fat man and a talking owl gradually emerged in Cyril's mind.
Was this guy that fat Apothecary from the Life School of Thought?
"What are you looking at? Isn't it just a completed trade?"
Noticing his gaze, the suspected fat Apothecary curled his lip.
Cyril smiled indifferently, then said in a joking tone, "Do you need a Vampire potion formula?"
"No."
The other man refused without hesitation, then looked at him warily. Only after confirming that Cyril's eyes were not blood-red did he relax slightly.
After a short pause, he added, "If you have the corresponding potion ingredients, you can trade them with me."
Cyril shook his head. "You don't have any money."
The fat Apothecary instantly snapped. "I'll have money someday. I definitely will!"
"You already guessed that I'm an Apothecary. Don't you know how quickly Apothecaries make money?"
"Whether ordinary people or Beyonders, who can guarantee they won't get injured, fall ill, or need a little special assistance? Everyone here is a potential customer of mine."
"That isn't a very good blessing." Old Mr. Eye of Wisdom chuckled and smoothly interrupted their conversation before looking at Cyril. "It seems you know quite a few potion formulas. Have you heard of Polymath?"
Cyril nodded lightly. "A Beyonder Pathway controlled by the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom. Its defining trait is versatility born of vast knowledge: identifying, seeing through, remembering, and imitating abilities it has witnessed."
"If you need the corresponding formula, I don't have it for now."
Old Mr. Eye of Wisdom followed up, "Only for now?"
"Yes." Cyril nodded lightly. Since he had joined the Twilight Hermit Order, there would always be another chance to view the Blasphemy Slate. He just needed to take another glance then.
"I hope that 'for now' won't last too long." Old Mr. Eye of Wisdom sighed, then moved on from the subject.
Because he had displayed his knowledgeable side, quite a few people asked Cyril about potion formulas during the following trade session. However, none of them offered to buy any; at most, they asked about the price.
It was obvious that these wild Beyonders were poor, one worse than the next.
At ten that night, after the streets outside had grown quiet, Cyril silently used Door Opening to slip out of his home and head to the place he had arranged to meet Owen.
The moment he arrived, he saw a figure dressed in a hooded black robe, gloved hands and a mask covering his face, wrapped up from head to toe.
Cyril's powerful spiritual intuition let him identify the figure's identity the instant he saw him.
"Why are you dressed like that, standing under a streetlamp? Aren't you conspicuous enough already?"
The black-robed man, covered from head to toe, was startled by the voice suddenly coming from behind him and reflexively turned to draw his gun.
Only after seeing Cyril's face did he relax. He put away the gun, pulled off his mask, revealing Owen's still somewhat youthful face, and complained to Cyril.
"Why did you suddenly come out from behind me? You scared the hell out of me. I almost fired just now."
Cyril shrugged. "I traveled through walls. It's faster that way."
"Besides, I didn't think you had the guts to shoot."
Owen ignored that last remark and asked directly,
"Are you ready? Shall we leave now?"
Cyril gave him a once-over and said speechlessly, "Before we leave, get rid of that outfit. East District is still some distance away. If pedestrians or patrolling Sheriffs see you dressed like this, we'll probably have to visit the police station before we reach the Blood Axe Gang."
Owen said, "Don't you have Beyonder Abilities?"
Cyril said, "Those are just wall-walking and Door Opening, not Teleport."
At Cyril's insistence, Owen took off his black cloak, removed his mask and gloves, and boarded a public carriage headed for East District.
Owen wore a gloomy expression the whole way. This was completely different from the operation he had imagined—neither thrilling nor exciting.
Cyril glanced at him and could roughly guess what he was thinking. He could only shake his head helplessly. There was no helping it; chuunibyou teenagers were like that.
East District, Old Elm Street—one of the most chaotic streets in all of East District. Of every ten people who drifted around here, nine had dealings with gang forces, while the remaining one was a Criminal wanted by the authorities.
Cyril and Owen got off the carriage two streets away. At this hour, even if they wanted to take a carriage all the way there, no driver would be willing.
As soon as they approached Old Elm Street, Cyril felt watchful, openly malicious gazes cast at them from the surrounding corners.
The vagrants who had spent years here had already recognized them as unfamiliar faces. If they could, they wouldn't mind becoming thieves, robbers, or Criminals, so long as it brought them something and kept them alive.
Ignoring the hostile looks around them, Cyril turned to Owen beside him. "Did you bring the Fate Crystal Ball?"
"Of course." Owen patted the pocket beneath his black cloak.
"Let me use it."
He had originally intended to have Owen divine the Blood Axe Gang's exact location directly, but when he saw the faint blackness within Owen's spirituality, he changed his mind at the last moment.
He still didn't know what that blackness represented. If it was bad luck or a curse, he might be affected too, just as when they had encountered that group of Highlanders blocking the road to rob them. So he had to help Owen share some of the Fate Crystal Ball's side effects.
Before you continue