The Black Market of Leeds City, hidden beneath the shadow of the clock tower, was a convergence of various mysterious legends and illicit trades.
Before the third load-bearing pillar at the entrance to the Black Market, Zhao Yun stopped, raising his hand to tap out a rhythm of three long and two short beats. With a creak, the mottled Stone Wall slowly split open, and a foul air mixed with mildew, the scent of Rotten Flesh, and aged Magic Fluctuation rushed out.
He pressed the hand wrapped tightly in cloth covering his Broken Sword at his waist and carefully slipped inside sideways.
On both sides of the descending steps, Fluorescent Moss emitted a faint green light, outlining twisted arrow shapes to guide the way. The dark red bloodstains between the stone crevices coagulated into spider web-like patterns under the dim light, recounting the Scent of Blood of stories that had transpired here.
Entering the Black Market, cries of hawkers rose and fell one after another.
“New goods! Freshly skinned Night Blade Leopard pelts!”
A Goblin merchant shouted, his stall displaying the leopard pelt, still wet with blood, looking particularly eerie under the fluorescent glow.
“Aphrodisiac Potion, capable of turning a saintess into a wanton woman!”
Another voice called out. Zhao Yun looked over and saw a Black-Robed Person furtively peddling a small bottle to passersby; the liquid inside shimmered with a strange light.
People nearby whispered, “Hush... he dares to sell goods banned by The Church?”
Zhao Yun moved through the crowd, vigilantly observing his surroundings. As he passed a Goblin stall, the Man-Faced Bats in the cage seemed to sense something and suddenly shrieked collectively. Their bloodshot eyes stared fixedly at Zhao Yun, their sharp cries slicing through the air, making one’s heart pound.
The stall owner’s face changed drastically, and he hurriedly covered the iron cage with a piece of old black cloth, muttering incessantly, “Damn it, damn it, they smelled the Dragon Blood!”
This sudden turn of events made Zhao Yun’s heart clench, and he quickened his pace.
Lame Jim’s stall was at the end of a sewage-strewn fork, surrounded by a nauseating stench. The stall displayed bizarre items: a skull emitting a faint glow, a worn Magic Wand carved with mysterious Runes, and books whose page text seemed to writhe on its own.
Jim was wrapped in a greasy oilcloth cloak, hunched behind the stall. His left leg was a prosthetic, its Gear stained with black mud, flashing eerily in the dim light.
Zhao Yun approached the stall. Jim did not look up, held out three fingers, and said in a hoarse voice, “Three questions, three Gold Coins.” His voice was cold, tinged with greed.
Zhao Yun took out a Gold Coin, flicked it lightly, and the spinning coin reflected a faint glimmer before embedding itself steadily into the wooden table.
“A survivor from the ‘Wind Scar’ Mercenary Group.”
Jim’s prosthetic leg suddenly shot out a blade, precisely flicking the Gold Coin away. He slowly looked up, his cloudy One-Eyed eye reflecting the faint glimmer of the Dragon Mark on Zhao Yun’s left arm. He stretched his toothless mouth into a cunning smile.
“Two Gold Coins, with a piece of advice included. The corpses of those who recently inquired about the Black Moon Altar are all floating in the Moat.”
Zhao Yun remained unmoved. He heavily slapped his coin pouch onto the blood-stained balance scale and looked directly into Jim’s One-Eyed eye: “One Gold Coin. Or perhaps you’d prefer to chat with the guards about this Tree Spirit weapon?”
As he spoke, his gaze swept over the silver bow covered by a black cloth in the corner of the stall; the Vine pattern on the Bow Arm bore some resemblance to the Duoli tribe’s Totem.
Jim was silent for a moment, then extended his calloused hand to grab the Gold Coin.
“The abandoned church in the West District. There’s a madman living in the attic who draws Talismans all day.”
He lowered his voice to warn.
“But you must be wary of the things he draws. Those are not ordinary Talismans; they might just cost you your life.”
Zhao Yun nodded and turned to leave, but Jim called him back.
“Young man.”
Jim’s voice held a note of mystery.
“The Black Moon Altar is not a place you can easily approach. Ancient, evil power is hidden there. Countless people have sought its secrets, but all have died there. If you insist on going, you are unlikely to escape misfortune.”
Zhao Yun glanced back at him.
“Thank you for the advice, but there are some things I must do.”
With that, he turned and vanished into the dark alley.
Passing through the back alley piled high with rotten vegetable leaves, Zhao Yun arrived at the abandoned church in the West District.
The church stood on the edge of the slums. The eyes of the saints on the stained-glass windows had been gouged out, leaving only empty sockets. The main door was ajar, emitting a creaking sound.
“Get out!” A hoarse roar full of pain and madness echoed from the attic into the night sky.
Zhao Yun flashed forward, leaping to the attic like lightning. He saw a gaunt Elf using his bloody fingers to smear something on the wall.
It was not an ordinary Talisman at all, but a spatial rift emitting a strange light, devouring the lives of different races! Those lives struggled and screamed within the rift but could not escape the fate of being consumed.
Zhao Yun pushed open the creaking wooden door and asked softly, “Ross? Silverleaf?”
The Elf suddenly turned. Moonlight illuminated the gold ring remaining on his pointed ear. His face, which should have been handsome, was covered in scratches. His left pupil was an ominous Grayish White, while his right eye shone with Emerald Green madness.
He grasped at the air with his paint-smeared hands, and the wall behind him suddenly came “alive.” Those rift patterns began to ooze blood beads, which coagulated in the air into the shape of a demon!
“The Black Moon Altar is a sham!”
Ross tore open his tunic, revealing a piercing wound across his chest. Fresh Blood seeped from the wound, dripping onto the floor.
“They are using us for Sacrifice! The monster is eating people!”
Ross’s words were filled with Fear and Despair, as he was still unable to break free from that terrible experience.