Chapter 193

Chapter 193

He pulled the beast-tooth necklace out of his pack—a blessing from the native witch doctors, that could ward off small swarms of venomous bugs. Its spiritual energy was soft and clean. "I only have 500 gold, but this is a blessed token from the Fourth Island's native witch doctors. It can stabilize spiritual energy and is useful for a 'Binder' dealing with resentment-tainted materials." The skull mask's fingers paused, then reached out to take the necklace. Spiritual tendrils coiled around his fingertips, and the pale white blessing light patterns on the tooth spread across his palm.

After a few seconds, he tucked the necklace into his cloak. "500 gold plus this token for the Shadow Silk. But remember, the undead in the Blue Light Zone have been growing more restless lately. Don't head too deep."

Just as Evan took the silk, a guy in a jackal mask suddenly leaned in, his fingertips glowing with a 'Blood Burner's' faint red spiritual energy. "I'll pay 600 gold for that pale purple silk, just the silk alone."

The skull mask's voice turned instantly cold as ice. "Palm Leaf rules: first come, first served. I'm a Sequence 8 'Binder.' You sure you wanna fight me on this?"

The jackal mask's face went pale—a "Binder" could control the undead, which was a direct counter to a "Blood Burner," a physically enhanced Supernatural. He pulled his hand back resentfully, shot Evan a glare, then disappeared into the crowd.

Evan wrapped the Shadow Silk in a waterproof pouch and turned toward a stall in the center of the wine cellar, where a few bundles of faintly glowing blue grass leaves were laid out—Rain Mist Grass.

The stall owner was a dark-skinned native guy wearing a mask made of seashells, his linen clothes embroidered with rainforest snake patterns—a mark of the Fourth Island's native witch doctors.

"20 grams of dried Rain Mist Grass leaves, 500 gold; 30 ml of Moonlight Distillate from a full moon night, 300 gold." The youth's accent had that rolling rainforest tone. "The Rain Mist Grass was gathered from the edge of the Rot Valley, untouched by the Colonial Force's gunpowder stench. The distillate was collected last full moon night under the 'Old Ancestor' giant tree."

Evan checked his money pouch. The 500 gold he had left wasn't enough for both.

He pulled out the "Cartographer" potion formula he'd prepared earlier and handed it over. "I only have 300 gold, but this is the complete formula for Sequence 9 'Diviner.' Your tribe might need this."

The youth's fingers tightened sharply; behind the seashell mask, his eyes lit up. A "Diviner" could help them predict fortune and misfortune.

He took the formula, scanning it with faint green spiritual energy from his fingertips. "The formula is genuine. 300 gold plus this formula for the Rain Mist Grass and distillate."

He slid the materials toward Evan.

Evan stashed the Rain Mist Grass and distillate in his pouch, leaving only the last material—the Spirit Medium Spider Silk Sac. He found his target near the wine cellar's bar: a middle-aged man in a spiderweb mask, with a pearl-white silk sac in a glass case in front of him, the product of a Sequence 9 "Web Weaver."

"Spirit Medium Spider Silk Sac, 400 gold." The spiderweb mask's fingers toyed with fine silk threads, his tone greedy. "Fresh from a Spirit Medium Spider's nest. Still active—use it within three days."

Evan's money pouch was empty. He pulled out his last item—the "Sailor" potion formula. "I'm out of gold, but this is the Sequence 9 'Sailor' formula. The main ingredient is Sea Spirit Grass, which enhances spiritual resistance at sea. You route runners need this."

The spiderweb mask's eyes lit up—"Web Weavers" often sailed with merchant ships, and the "Sailor" formula could help them withstand supernatural storms at sea.

He took the formula and carefully checked the ritual steps. "The formula is genuine. This silk sac for your formula, but you have to tell me: where is the Spirit Medium Spider's nest?"

"The 'Spiderweb Cliff' in the Fourth Island rainforest. Avoid the poisonous midday sun." Evan tossed out a location Kalu had mentioned, then took the glass case containing the silk sac—the sac pulsed with gentle spiritual energy, a sign of good activity.

As Evan tied the last pouch to his belt, the trading sounds in the wine cellar had faded, and the beast-oil lamps began to flicker, signaling the end of the exchange.

He climbed back up the stone steps to the club's main hall. The bartender handed him a glass of rum with ice. "Good haul?"

"The club has real strength." Evan took the glass, his fingertips touching the cool rim, feeling quite pleased. Though he had spent all his Gold Sala, gathering the Sequence 8 potion materials so easily was worth any price.

"Thanks for the offer, but I have urgent matters." Evan pressed his fingertips against the rim of the rum glass and gently pushed it back, the amber liquid rippling in fine waves.

He fished a smooth-edged Silver Keren from his money pouch and pressed it firmly under the glass—the club's minimum charge, a rule to avoid owing favors. The bartender raised an eyebrow, saw Evan's resolute expression, smiled, and pocketed the silver coin without further questions.

Pushing open the heavy oak door of the club, the night fog instantly enveloped Evan's figure.

The Blue Light Zone's streets were far more dangerous by day. The glow of the beast-oil lamps shattered into fragments in the mist, and in the distance, the hoarse roars of the undead mingled with the clamor of taverns into an eerie nocturne.

He pulled his cloak's hood lower, moving swiftly through the shadows, avoiding several roving armed groups, and reached the inn after a quarter of an hour.

The wooden floorboards of the inn room creaked softly underfoot. Evan locked the door and braced it with the bed leg—after the jackal mask's covetous gaze at the exchange, he was more cautious than ever. He sealed the curtain gaps tightly with hemp thread, not letting a sliver of moonlight through, leaving only a bronze oil lamp on the table. Its dim light cast flickering shadows on the stone walls, stretching his silhouette long and thin. The air smelled of mildew and pinewood—a rare haven of stability in this chaotic land.

He stood before the table, took a deep breath, and retrieved the materials he had prepared for so long from his pack.

The Shadow Silk glowed with an almost transparent purple under the lamp, its touch cold as moonlight condensed into silk. The dried Rain Mist Grass leaves released a damp, earthy scent upon contact with the air, and when he pinched them, faint blue fluorescence clung to his fingertips. The Moonlight Distillate was stored in a crystal vial; when shaken, fine silver glimmers swirled within, as if a handful of starlight had been sealed inside. Finally, the Spirit Medium Spider Silk Sac pulsed gently with his movements, its spiritual patterns trembling like living things—a high-activity treasure.

Evan pulled out a bronze crucible engraved with spiral patterns. He first crushed the dried Rain Mist Grass leaves and sprinkled them evenly into the crucible's bottom. The faint blue fluorescence instantly bloomed across the inner walls, like a handful of breathing stardust. Then, he carefully poured in the Moonlight Distillate. The silver and blue light merged into a flowing pale green liquid, which bubbled with fine foam upon contact with the crucible walls, emitting a fresh scent like morning dew on grass.

The most critical step came. Evan's fingertips glowed with faint spiritual light as he concentrated his mental energy to the utmost. He picked up one end of the Shadow Silk and slowly immersed it into the pale green liquid. The moment the silk touched the surface, it dissolved like snow in water, transforming into wisps of purple mist that coiled upward, gradually dyeing the liquid a deep violet.

Finally, he used a silver knife to gently cut open the Spirit Medium Spider Silk Sac. The viscous, milky white juice dripped into the crucible, immediately intertwining with the purple mist into a spinning vortex. The spiritual fluctuation intensified sharply, causing even the oil lamp's flame to flicker violently. The potion's refinement went more smoothly than expected. The bronze crucible's patterns lit up with a faint golden glow, steadily suppressing the restless spiritual energy, avoiding the spiritual outburst Kalu had warned about. When a layer of fine silver patterns appeared on the crucible's surface, covering the entire liquid like a spiderweb, Evan knew the time was right. He lifted the crucible, the cool metal touch easing his tense nerves. His gaze fell on the pearl-lustered potion, and after a deep breath, he tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp.