Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Kevin froze for a moment; he never expected the two to pull such an unexpected stunt. He stood there dumbfounded, as if rooted to the spot. When he finally came to his senses and turned his head, all he saw were their rapidly retreating figures receding into the distance until they vanished from sight at the far end of the alley.

"Cowards! After them!" Kevin roared in furious humiliation, his voice echoing through the alley like thunder.

Evan and Tom sprinted through the alleys like unbridled wild horses, darting and weaving as they navigated skillfully through the labyrinth of narrow lanes and streets. Their figures flickered in and out of view like agile shadows. Relying on their familiarity with the area and their nimble movements, they soon managed to shake off Kevin and his two cronies. Only when they were certain no one was pursuing them did they finally stop, panting heavily.

Evan gasped for breath between laughs. "That big oaf Kevin will never beat us in a footrace." His face wore a mix of smugness and mockery, as if saying, "What can you do about it?"

"Exactly, exactly!" Tom chimed in, his face beaming with relief and joy at their narrow escape. Just then, Tom glanced back and suddenly spotted a wooden signboard with a line of bold text: Old Tom's Junk Shop.

"The shopkeeper shares my name, Tom. What a coincidence." Tom felt a flicker of interest. He pointed curiously at the shop and asked Evan, "Want to take a look?"

They were currently at the border between the port district and the residential area, a relatively remote location. Because of this, rents here were cheaper, attracting a motley crew of residents—a real mix of all sorts. Anyone who could run a junk shop in such a place either possessed formidable skills to hold their own in this complex environment or had a powerful background, giving them the confidence to withstand various potential risks.

Evan carefully observed Old Tom, who was sunning himself in a rocking chair at the shop entrance, and then glanced at the narrow doorway, barely wide enough for one person. He felt a flicker of curiosity too. Old Tom sat there with his eyes closed, a serene smile on his face, seemingly enjoying the afternoon tranquility.

"Let's go check it out. We might find some good stuff," Evan said excitedly. Although he had written this novel, his descriptions of Sheffield were limited. Now that this fictional world had become complete and real, a keen sense of adventurous curiosity welled up from deep within Evan. His eyes sparkled with anticipation, as if he were about to step into a mysterious world of treasures.

Brimming with anticipation, the two slowly entered the junk shop. The moment they stepped inside, Evan and Tom couldn't help but let out a small gasp of surprise. Despite the narrow entrance, the interior was surprisingly spacious, over sixty square meters. Wooden shelves lined the walls neatly, each crammed with an array of peculiar items: exquisitely carved wooden masks that seemed to hold mysterious stories; ancient, heavy black pottery exuding a sense of history; beautiful, colorful feather fans that, with a gentle flutter, seemed to waft exotic breezes; and large-brimmed hats with an island style, their unique shapes evoking images of tropical islands. The dazzling array of items left them wide-eyed and overwhelmed. However, each item had a price tag clearly attached. Upon seeing the prices, they couldn't help but wince—these items were genuinely expensive. While their current financial means could afford such purchases, the steep prices still made them hesitate. The price tags felt like warning signs, urging them to spend cautiously.

The sun wasn't too bright that day as Evan and Tom strolled through the market filled with all sorts of oddities. Their gazes soon drifted away from the luxurious items displayed on the expensive shelves, which, though exquisite, were priced prohibitively high. Then, their attention fell on a row of four bamboo baskets placed on a shelf. These baskets also contained various items, though compared to those on the shelves, they looked rather shabby.

Curious, Evan leaned closer to inspect the contents of a bamboo basket. Inside lay a jumble of objects: worn-out little trinkets, battered tools, and some small items whose purpose was unclear. Tom also rummaged through another basket, his face showing curiosity.

"Old Tom, how much for the stuff in these bamboo baskets?" Evan called out loudly toward the entrance. Old Tom, still basking leisurely in the sun, didn't even open his eyes. Maintaining his relaxed posture, he slowly replied, "Those are souvenirs brought back by sailors who've been to the colonies, or things they didn't want anymore. One Silver Keren per piece."

Evan and Tom pondered Old Tom's words. Although the items in the baskets were cheaper than those on the shelves, for ordinary people, spending a Silver Keren was still not a trivial matter. However, for Evan and Tom, who had just come of age and received a substantial sum of money, the price wasn't an immediate concern. They were merely curious, examining the items in the baskets to see if they could find anything interesting.

Tom rummaged through one basket when suddenly his hand stopped. He pulled out an iron sword from the pile. The sword wasn't overly ornate; its blade appeared somewhat plain, and the hilt was wrapped with worn cloth strips. Tom held it up, and sunlight glinted off the blade, reflecting a cold gleam. The edge was extremely sharp, though upon closer inspection, one could spot some minor nicks. Yet, this was a weapon that had seen blood. A glint of excitement flashed in Tom's eyes. After all, most boys loved weapons, and this iron sword held a certain mysterious allure.

"Evan, look at this mark! It's the Imperial Navy's insignia!" Tom exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement. He handed the sword to Evan for a closer look. Evan took it and examined the mark carefully. Indeed, it was the emblem of the Imperial Navy—a unique symbol representing the empire's might and glory.

The Sala Empire's control over weapons wasn't excessively strict, but obtaining a genuine Imperial-issued weapon was extremely difficult. Rumors said the empire's standard-issue weapons were forged using special methods, making them not only sharp but also remarkably durable. Such weapons were exceedingly rare on the market, typically only seen within the military or in certain special circumstances.

Evan gave the iron sword only a casual glance before remarking, "If you don't wrap that in cloth, you'll attract the attention of the constables the moment you step outside." His tone was flat but carried a hint of concern. Especially in their neighborhood, populated by wealthy merchants and government officials, constable patrols were more frequent. Carrying a conspicuous weapon in such a place could easily lead to unnecessary trouble.

----------------------