Chapter 158: black market

A maid spoke respectfully. Phield opened the envelope and saw a balance of eighty thousand displayed—part from the goods he had brought this time, and part from his savings.

“Enjoy yourself, but please refrain from using violence—it can be fatal. Here, no one has a real identity.”

With that, the maid picked up a wine glass from a silver tray and handed it to Phield.

Before her words had even faded, a commotion erupted in the hall. An old man had forcefully pinned down a beautiful woman, spewing obscene words as his hands roamed shamelessly over her body.

The woman’s face twisted with disgust as she snorted coldly. “Let go of me, or I’ll rip your head off.”

“What can you do to me, you slut?” the old man sneered. “You’re not even wearing a scrap of cloth, yet you still pretend to act dignified. Let me show you the power of binding magic.”

Clearly a mage, he chanted a spell, and purple-red chains of magic instantly coiled around the woman, restraining her completely.

“What a piece of trash.”

Phield’s brows twitched as he watched. No wonder the empire was collapsing from both within and without—how could it ever prosper with parasites like these?

“Heh. Filthy dog, looking to die.”

The woman flicked her hand casually, and the binding chains shattered into countless motes of light.

Then came a horrifying sight—her slender, pale fingers pierced effortlessly into the old man’s skull. Before he could even cry out, she ripped his head off along with his spine. Her face was filled with exhilaration as blood splattered all over her body, driving her into an almost ecstatic frenzy.

“Good, good! Kill two more!”

“Magnificent! This scene is worth painting!”

“Miss, I’ve tipped you ten thousand gold coins—please accept it!”

A crowd of men rushed forward, showering her with praise, while servants hurried in to clean up the scene.

The maid smiled. “You see? Please don’t resort to violence first. Everyone here possesses unfathomable strength. And if things go too far, those who preside over this place will personally intervene.”

“A rather impressive warning.”

Shrugging, Phield calmly stepped into the ballroom, thinking to himself: quite a few of the attendees are Divine Chosen.

That ability to break magic just now was definitely not something an ordinary person could pull off.

“Still… the most important thing is that uncontracted Divine Chosen.”

On the minimap, the uncontracted Divine Chosen was clearly marked nearby.

Without lingering in the dance hall, and after turning down numerous invitations, Phield passed through the lavish music hall and entered the black market. Once outside the hall, the explicit scenes dropped sharply—aside from a plump woman walking three young men on leashes, there was nothing particularly noteworthy.

Laughter and crying intertwined. At first glance, Phield saw rows of slaves—each either strikingly beautiful or exceptionally handsome. Curious, he stepped closer, scanning them one by one before asking,

“What’s the difference between the slaves here and those outside?”

Slave trading wasn’t banned in the empire—in fact, it was encouraged. Slave hunting was common; pink catkin, for example, suffered greatly under it. Some minority demi-human races had even been wiped out entirely. There was no reason for slave trading here to be conducted so secretly.

The merchant, also cloaked in a black robe, said nothing. Instead, he tapped a wooden board beside one of the cages with a stick.

“The Silver Wing Empire. Count Girardi’s youngest daughter. Thirteen years old. A virgin. Possesses one-sixteenth of the Four-winged angel bloodline. Intelligence erased—obedience only.”

“Hiss—”

Phield sucked in a breath. No wonder the trade had to be hidden—this was nobility! After a moment, he asked, “How much for the child of a foreign noble?”

“Not expensive. Three hundred thousand gold coins.” The slave trader raised three fingers. “Her grandmother was a sixth-tier Divine Chosen, a ’Four-winged angel.’ Her bloodline surely carries both Divine Chosen and holy attributes.”

Three hundred thousand? That was half a year’s revenue for Golden Eagle City.

Phield shook his head. Besides, Divine Chosen had nothing to do with bloodlines.

Otherwise, this world would have long since become a matriarchal or theocratic society.

“You people dare to capture someone like this? The Silver Wing Empire doesn’t seem any weaker than the Sacred Griffin Empire, does it?”

The Silver Wing Empire was one and a half times the size of the Sacred Griffin Empire, located in the northeast. It possessed both the Holy Light and Primal pantheons of Divine Chosen, making it extremely powerful.

Ashina’s Goddess of Winter belonged to the Primal pantheon—typically associated with nature, climate, animals, and totems, and almost always producing combat-oriented Divine Chosen. The Holy Light pantheon, promoted by the Church, produced all kinds and strongly countered evil-aligned deities.

The empire’s mainstream, however, was the War God pantheon.

Of course, none of that mattered much for now. Most nobles were lucky just to obtain a single Divine Chosen—they had no luxury of choice.

The robed merchant remained silent, like a block of wood.

“Heh, I can tell at a glance—you’re new here. Merchants don’t just reveal their secrets.”

A gentle female voice sounded by his ear.

Phield let out a quiet breath. Figures—being new here just made him more interesting. He had already been approached by several women on the way.

He turned, ready to refuse, but found that this woman had no intention of inviting him to anything indecent.

She idly waved a fan in her hand, fully dressed, elegant and composed.

Smiling, she said, “Let me guess—you’re here to buy something?”

“Yes,” Phield replied bluntly. “I want to buy—”

“Shh—” As if she had anticipated it, she pressed a finger to her lips. “If you say it out loud, people with ill intent might figure out who you are. That could put your life in danger.”

“But…” Phield frowned slightly.

“After you buy what you need, you don’t have to take it with you. Simon will deliver it to you in the normal world under his own name. That man may be vile, but when it comes to running the black market, he has a certain level of integrity.”

“I see. Thank you for the advice.”

The woman lazily waved her fan. “I appreciate your restraint. It’s best not to cross your own bottom line—because once you do, you’ll realize people have no bottom line at all.”

“True enough.” Phield nodded in agreement.

“So, are you looking for magical items? I even have artifacts.” One hand resting across her chest and the other propping her chin, she suddenly produced a withered, lizard-shaped wooden carving as if by magic. “A Tier 1 artifact—the Swamp Basilisk Carving. It can transform into a ferocious earth-element basilisk and eliminate anyone who poses a threat to you.”

“Can’t afford it.” Phield shook his head immediately. “I need a fair amount of magical materials. If you have those, that would be even better.”

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