EFB Chapter 16: The Operation Begins
Chapter 16: The Operation Begins
After a moment of silence, the trade request initiated by the chubby, glib-tongued fellow was skipped by the old man with the "Eye of Wisdom".
"If it's not there, it's not there. Anyway, I didn't expect to buy what I wanted at just any random party, and I haven't even prepared the money yet."
The fat guy's mutterings drew another round of stares, some speechless, some disgusted, and some full of admiration.
The praise came from Cyril, who felt that this guy was a bit like himself, always thinking of getting something for free when he didn't have a penny to his name.
Of course, he was definitely not as shameless as the other party; he was not a good candidate for the "Hunter" path.
After muttering a couple of complaints to himself, he took advantage of the fact that no one else spoke up and spoke up first, stating his needs:
"I'd like to sell several Sequence 9 potion recipes: 'The Diviner,' 'The Apprentice,' and 'The Singer.' Does anyone need them?"
If he could sell all three Sequence 9 potion recipes, he could earn 600 pounds in one go, and he wouldn't have to worry about the upcoming transactions.
They need to let me sell at least one unit, otherwise I won't be able to participate in the subsequent transaction stages.
This is why he initiated the transaction request so quickly; he doesn't even have 1 pound to his name.
After a brief silence, the old gentleman with the "eye of wisdom" took the lead in speaking:
"I'd like a potion recipe using the 'Diviner' pathway. How much do you charge?"
Without hesitation, Sirion replied, "200 pounds. All potion recipes are included. No bargaining. This price is already very reasonable."
The old gentleman with the "eye of wisdom" nodded gently: "A reasonable price, I have no problem with it."
Cyrion's gaze swept over the crowd. He hoped to sell a few more potion recipes. 200 pounds was a lot for ordinary people, but it was far from enough for an extraordinary one.
Soon someone else spoke up: "I want a copy of the 'Singer' potion recipe."
"Okay." Sirien nodded slightly, his gaze continuing to sweep around, but no one spoke again after that.
£400 is not bad; at least the remaining £200 is within the bank's lending range.
Thinking this, he placed the two sheets of paper he had prepared beforehand, one with the potion recipe for "Diviner" and the other with the other with the recipe for "Singer," into the tray carried by the waiter next to him.
The waiter placed the folded paper in front of the old man with the "Eye of Wisdom." The old man took the paper and glanced at it. The next second, a golden seal pattern appeared in his eyes behind the dark gold mask.
"Notarized, valid!"
Cyril wasn't surprised, but the new, foul-mouthed guy next to him gasped in shock.
"Impressive. No wonder you dare to trade potion formulas; you have the means to authenticate them."
"This old man with the 'Eye of Wisdom' is the second, no, the third most powerful extraordinary being I have ever met."
Cyril glanced at the fat guy beside him with surprise, his eyes full of sarcastic remarks.
The old man with the "Eye of Wisdom" has always used magical items and has never revealed his abilities or sequence, yet you've already ranked him?
Fat, glib, searching for the marrow crystals of the Fairy Spring... The image of a fat man and a talking owl gradually appeared in Cyrien's mind.
Is this guy the fat pharmacist from the Life Science school?
"What are you looking at? It's just a completed transaction."
Noticing his gaze, the guy who looked like the fat pharmacist curled his lip.
Cyril chuckled dismissively, then said in a joking tone, "Do you need the 'vampire' potion recipe?"
"don't want."
The other person refused without hesitation, while looking at him warily to make sure his eyes weren't blood red before letting out a slight sigh of relief.
After a brief pause, he continued, "If you have the necessary potion ingredients, you can trade with me."
Cyril shook his head: "You have no money."
The chubby pharmacist instantly broke down: "I'll be rich someday, I definitely will!"
"You already guessed I'm a 'pharmacist,' so don't you know how fast 'pharmacists' make money?"
"Whether you are an ordinary person or an extraordinary one, who can guarantee that you will not get injured, will not get sick, and will not need any special assistance? Everyone here is a potential client of mine."
"That's not a good blessing," the old man, "Eye of Wisdom," chuckled softly, interrupting their conversation. He then looked at Sirion and asked:
"It seems you've mastered quite a few potion recipes. Have you ever heard of the 'Scholar'?"
Sirion nodded slightly: "The extraordinary path mastered by the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom is characterized by versatility due to extensive learning, and the ability to discern, see, remember, and imitate what has been seen."
"If you need the specific formula, we don't have it at the moment."
The wise old man asked again, "Is it only temporary?"
"Yes." Cyril nodded slightly. Since he had already joined the Twilight Hermits, there would always be another opportunity to look at the Profaned Tablets. He could just take a quick look at them then.
"Hopefully this won't last too long," the old man with the "Eye of Wisdom" sighed, then changed the subject.
Because he had demonstrated his erudition, many people asked Sirion about the potion recipe during the subsequent transactions, but no one offered to buy it; at most, they asked about the price.
It's clear that these wild extraordinary individuals are all incredibly poor.
.....
At 10 p.m., after the streets outside had become deserted, Sirian quietly "opened the door" and slipped out of the house to the place she had arranged to meet Owen.
As soon as he arrived, he saw a figure wearing a hooded black robe, gloves, and a mask, completely covering himself up.
Cyril's powerful spiritual intuition allowed him to recognize the figure the instant he saw it:
"Why are you dressed like that, and standing under the streetlight? Do you think you're not eye-catching enough?"
The man in the black robe, who was completely concealed, was startled by the sudden sound behind him and instinctively turned around and drew his gun.
Only after seeing Cyril's face clearly did he breathe a sigh of relief, put away his gun, pull off his mask to reveal Owen's still somewhat childish face, and complain to Cyril:
"Why did you suddenly appear behind me? You startled me; I almost fired a shot."
Cyril shrugged: "Going through walls is a faster way to travel."
"Besides, I don't think you'd dare to fire a shot."
Irving ignored his last sentence and asked directly:
"Are you ready? Shall we set off now?"
Xi Ruien glanced at him and said speechlessly, "Before we set off, you should take off your clothes. We're still quite a distance from the East District. If passersby or patrolling sheriffs see you like this, we'll probably have to go to the police station before we even get to the Blood Axe Gang."
Irving: "Don't you have extraordinary abilities?"
Cyril: "That's just going through walls and opening doors, not teleportation."
At Cyril's insistence, Owen removed his black cloak, mask, and gloves, and then boarded a public carriage bound for the East End.
Irving wore a sullen expression the whole way; this was completely different from what he had envisioned—neither exciting nor thrilling.
Xi Ruien glanced at him and could roughly guess what he was thinking. He could only shake his head helplessly. There was nothing he could do; that's just how immature teenagers are.
Old Elm Street in the East District is one of the most chaotic streets in the entire East District. Nine out of ten people who frequent this area have connections with gangs, and the remaining one is a criminal wanted by the authorities.
Cyril and Owen disembarked two streets away. They had walked all this way, and even if they wanted to ride here, the coachman wouldn't have allowed it.
As soon as he approached Old Elm Street, Xi Ruien felt a series of scrutinizing and malicious gazes directed at him from the surrounding corners.
The homeless people who frequent this place have recognized them as strangers. If they could, they wouldn't mind becoming thieves, robbers, or criminals, as long as they can make a living.
Ignoring the malicious stares around them, Cyril turned to Owen beside him: "Are you carrying the Crystal Ball of Destiny?"
"Of course." Owen patted the pocket under his black cloak.
"Can I borrow it for a moment?"
He originally wanted the other party to directly divine the exact location of the Blood Axe Gang, but seeing the faint blackness emanating from Owen's spiritual aura, he changed his mind at the last minute.
He didn't know what the black color represented. If it was bad luck or a curse, he might also be affected, just like when he encountered that group of highlanders who robbed him. So he had to help them share some of the side effects of the Fate Crystal Ball.