Su Li deftly rummaged three burlap sacks out from the corner. When the family went out, sacks were standard equipment.
At the same time.
East District Black Market, underground drainage channel.
Talia wore an inconspicuous gray cloak as she squatted beside the broken wooden crate where Su Li had been yesterday.
The stench in the underground channel was heady—a moldy fur smell mixed with the sour reek of something rotten.
Talia had lived for over four hundred years and had always been the lofty chief Magic Forger of the Elven Merchant Association. Wherever she went, there had been clean, spacious workshops. When had she ever suffered like this?
She pinched her nose tightly, her brows furrowed tightly enough to crush flies.
The half-goblin selling scrap armor beside her sidled over.
"Miss Long-Ears... ah, esteemed guest." The half-goblin had a good eye. Though he could not see Talia's face clearly, the material she wore was clearly exquisite. "Are you waiting for someone here?"
Talia disdainfully shifted away from him. "Yesterday, at this spot, there was a blacksmith selling top-tier enchanted weapons. When does he usually come?"
The moment the half-goblin realized she was asking about that lord, a troubled expression immediately appeared on his face.
Talia simply took out a gleaming gold coin from her cloak and tossed it straight into the half-goblin's arms.
The half-goblin caught the gold coin in a flurry, bit it, and smiled until his face was full of wrinkles.
"Guest, it's not that I'm hiding anything from you. That lord's movements are mysterious. He comes when he wants and leaves when he wants. Sometimes he won't show his face for ten days or half a month; other times, he comes two days in a row."
"Where does he live?" Talia asked.
The half-goblin shook his head