[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-black-dragon-necromancer":3,"chapter-black-dragon-necromancer-black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-82":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Black Dragon Necromancer",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2312842,4521,"Chapter 82","black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-82",82,"\u003Cp>The port district of Agrik always reeked of salted fish, spices, and damp wood, filled with clamor and packed bodies. Sakavi’s towering black dragon form pushed through the throng, his dark golden vertical pupils locking onto his target almost at once.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In a relatively open corner of the market, beside a stall selling eastern silk, a man calling himself “Melor” appeared to be a human youth of twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with deep brown curls tousled by sea wind and sun, clinging damply to his forehead, their ends streaked with salt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His skin was a healthy bronze, but upon closer inspection, the hue was uneven on his neck and the backs of his hands—like sun-darkened flesh, not natural, perhaps a disguise to conceal his true complexion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wore a dark green traveling coat of decent fabric, clearly weathered, with leather patches of matching color skillfully sewn over worn elbows. Beneath it, a cream-colored linen shirt hung loosely open at the collar, revealing a simple silver chain bearing a small turquoise stone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beneath his handsome features lay the smooth charm of a merchant, his lips always curved in a faint, weary yet warm smile—as if he had seen the wide world and still chose to believe in it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most striking were his eyes: even in human form, they remained vivid, emerald-green like summer grass, and when light shifted, his pupils betrayed fleeting slits—yet he usually masked them with lowered lids or subtle turns of his head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His gaze was lively and persuasive, radiating sincerity as if ready to share a secret from some distant shore. His posture was upright, yet he deliberately slumped slightly, appearing weathered and seasoned, to lend credibility to his tales.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His fingers were long, nails neatly trimmed; on the forefinger of his right hand rested a plain silver ring, engraved with indecipherable markings he claimed were “homeland runes,” giving him the air of a fallen noble.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had chosen his stall with cunning: behind it stood a canopy of old sails from a retired merchant vessel, offering shade and hinting at seafaring and distant lands. Beneath his feet lay a faded but intricately patterned deep-blue rug, sharply contrasting with the rough stone pavement and instantly elevating the perceived value of his wares.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He did not use a crude wooden table; instead, he stacked several carved wooden crates—ornate in design, though crudely made—and draped them with a black velvet cloth. The so-called “elven silver jewelry” glimmered in the sunlight filtering through the sail’s seams.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bracelets, necklaces, earrings… their designs echoed the slender, nature-inspired motifs common among elves—twining vines, unfurling leaves. The green dragon cleverly interspersed genuine small freshwater pearls with brightly colored glass beads (disguised as gemstones), their glow amplified against the black velvet, giving the illusion of noble mystery.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, Melor lifted a silver necklace set with “moonstone” (in truth, polished white glass). His voice was low but carried a magnetic resonance that cut through the noise. Several customers had gathered—well-dressed citizens, vulnerable to fine trinkets, and the occasional passing sailor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ladies and gentlemen, behold this perfect craftsmanship!” Melor’s voice brimmed with awe as he pinched the necklace delicately between his fingers, letting the “gem” catch the light and scatter prismatic sparks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This is no product of dwarven hammers, nor of clumsy human imitation. It comes from Blymesost, carved by the finest elven artisans under moonlight, beside flowing streams, with fingertips woven with magic!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He half-closed his shrewd green vertical pupils, lowering his voice as if revealing a secret: “Look at the curl of these vines—each curve holds the rhythm of nature. Can you feel this ‘moonstone’? It truly absorbs moonlight; at night, it glows with a soft radiance, shielding its wearer from nightmares.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A silk-clad merchant-like beastman reached out to touch it. Melor swiftly withdrew his hand, his expression a perfect blend of apology and pride: “Ah, forgive me, noble guest. Elven works carry the spirit of nature—they are unaccustomed to… common hands.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You see this luster, this texture? In Agrik, you will find no second piece like it. I once saved an injured elven traveler—he gifted me these treasures in gratitude for my life-saving aid.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sighed, his expression so genuine it left no trace of deceit: “Had I not urgently needed funds to reach Skullcrusher City to deliver a message for an elven warrior, I would never part with them. Each piece is unique, blessed by the forests of Vanshimant.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sakavi crossed his arms, his black scales absorbing the port’s heat. His cold gaze swept over the jewelry. With his innate sensitivity to metal and gemstones, he could distinctly “hear” the discordant hum of cheap alloy beneath the so-called “pure silver.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the hollow, insubstantial essence of the “gems.” Beyond the port’s briny stench, a faint, almost imperceptible scent drifted—wet vegetation and cunning, unmistakably green dragon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sakavi’s towering black form melted into the shadows of the bustling crowd, taking cover behind a pile of fishing nets and barrels—a perfect vantage point. Like the most patient hunter, he observed the green dragon, wondering what true skill lay beneath the audacious disguise.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He watched a well-dressed young beastman noble pass by, accompanied by a female companion. Melor instantly seized the moment, lifting a pair of earrings set with “star shards” (in truth, blue glass with trapped bubbles), his voice dripping with allure:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Noble sir, observe these earrings—legend says elven artisans captured fragments of starlight as meteors streaked across the night sky. Your beautiful lady, wearing them, will make the stars themselves pale in comparison.” He deftly linked the trinket to the woman, weaving a romantic myth on the spot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The young noble was clearly swayed, especially under his companion’s hopeful gaze. Melor did not rush to name a price; instead, he sighed, glancing regretfully at his stall: “Such treasures should not be measured in coin… but since fate has brought you to them, fifteen gold pieces—let them witness your love.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The price was absurdly high, yet for a noble blinded by elven craftsmanship and the symbolism of love, it was within reach. After a theatrical haggle, they settled on twelve gold pieces.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Melor’s face instantly assumed the expression of a man sacrificing his most cherished possession. He carefully wrapped the earrings and handed them over, as if delivering not cheap glass, but true star fragments.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Next, a seasoned sailor, well-traveled and discerning, approached, intrigued by a so-called “wave-splitting” elven dagger (in truth, a plain iron dagger with elaborate carving).\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Melor instantly shifted tactics, abandoning lofty legends. He lowered his voice, as if sharing a sailor’s secret: “Brother, sharp eyes! This dagger may look ornate, but its true value lies in its edge and resilience.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Think: elven adventurers in hidden corners face armored beasts—they seek one fatal strike. This dagger’s balance and sharpness let you strike true even on a heaving deck.” He even let the sailor test its weight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sailor was skeptical, but Melor’s price was fair: three gold pieces, plus a vague rumor about a treasure on some island in the Endless Sea, supposedly heard from a blackforest wood elf. After hesitation, the sailor handed over thirty silver coins.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sakavi watched silently as Melor, within half an hour, sold another “moonlight protection” necklace to a slightly plump middle-aged woman, and an “lucky elven rune ring” to a curious young scholar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The green dragon’s tongue wove the perfect net for each prey, keenly sensing their hidden desires—vanity, love, utility, security, curiosity—and filling them with stories and “merchandise.” The dragon’s boldness, adaptability, and uncanny grasp of human nature far exceeded Sakavi’s expectations.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As noon approached and his stock dwindled, the self-styled “Melor” was nearly giddy. He swiftly rolled up the old velvet cloth, shoving the remaining “elven treasures” (stolen from a counterfeit merchant) into his pockets.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Today’s haul was rich—the heavy coin purse jingled pleasantly against his chest. Whistling a tuneless, cheerful melody, he decided to avoid the crowded main road, lest an angry customer catch him, and turned down a quieter alley leading toward the academy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The alley was narrow and damp, flanked by the backs of tall buildings, walls slick with moss. The air carried the port’s brine and the faint rot of garbage. Sunlight, sliced by the high walls, left only slivers of brightness, leaving most of the alley in shadow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as he reached the midpoint, a towering black shadow emerged silently from a side path, blocking his way entirely. The figure stood sharp against the gloom, covered in light-absorbing black scales, dark golden vertical pupils glowing like cold fire in the shadows.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Melor’s whistle died instantly. His heart lurched, but his face quickly twisted into a merchant’s smile: “Uh, sir… my lord? May I help you? If you seek exquisite elven ornaments, I have—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before he finished, footsteps sounded behind him. He spun around—there stood Morax, the silver dragon, blocking the alley’s exit, his slender frame casting a metallic sheen in the dim light, his gaze calm yet unbearably imposing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Simultaneously, a nondescript side door creaked open. Sulaid, the white dragon, stepped out lazily, leaning against the frame, a wolf tooth club in hand, a wry smile playing on his lips.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sakavi stepped forward, his deep voice echoing in the narrow space, laced with unmasked threat: “Drop the act, Melor ‘sir.’” He emphasized “sir.” “We’ve been watching you. Business good? Pockets full?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Morax’s icy voice came from behind, like ice scraping stone: “Hand over everything valuable—your purse, your jewelry, and all your ‘elven’ stories.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sulaid chuckled softly, adding: “We’re curious how you acquired these goods. Care to explain… slowly?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Melor’s face drained of color. Genuine panic flashed in his emerald eyes. He instinctively clutched his purse, tensing, mind racing for an escape—or a new lie.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But before those three pairs of eyes—especially Sakavi’s dark golden pupils, which seemed to ignite his very soul—he felt his clever deceptions melting like snow in sunlight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For the first time, he understood the despair of those he’d swindled. Only now, his robbers were far more dangerous than any deceived customer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My lords, let’s talk this through! I’m a recent graduate of the Dragonbeast Academy—this district falls under our boss Morax’s jurisdiction. If you want to challenge him, go ahead. Don’t bother a lowly fellow like me. Besides, causing trouble on his turf won’t end well.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Morax sneered: “Hmph. If you’ve got the guts, call him. If he dares lift a finger against me, he’s worthy of respect.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Melor’s panic vanished like tide receding, replaced by icy calm and razor-sharp calculation. His emerald eyes narrowed into two bottomless pools of frost. The pretense of charm and humility vanished without a trace.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He relaxed his rigid posture, even patting his chest where the purse lay, as if soothing a startled treasure. His gaze swept over the three, his lips twitching uncontrollably—then curled into a low, knowing, absurd chuckle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ha…” He shook his head, his eyes first locking on Sakavi. “In Agrik, robbing a dragon? On dragonbeast gang territory?” His voice shed its human merchant cadence, regaining the rasping, magnetic timbre of a dragon. “You, ‘robber’—your pure black dragon aura blazes like a lighthouse in the night. Do you think other dragons ignore it? Unless…” He dragged out the word, “they choose to look away.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His gaze shifted to Morax behind him, studying the gleaming silver scales: “And you, noble silver dragon. Robbery? That’s not your kind’s style—too crude.” He paused, as if struck by realization. “Wait… silver dragon… could it be?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Melor, I just heard someone claim to be a dragon—and exceptionally skilled at deception. Care to explain?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Uh… Your Grace, I didn’t mean to deceive you! Let me explain—I’m a homeless green dragon, bullied by my siblings since childhood, stunted in growth, couldn’t survive in the wild, so I came here pretending to be a dragonbeast…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Ugh... Your Grace, I... I didn't mean to deceive you, please let me explain—no, let me clarify—I'm actually a homeless green dragon, bullied by my brothers and sisters since childhood, stunted in growth from a young age, and with no way to survive in the wild, I came here pretending to be a dragon beast...\" With that, he began wiping away tears.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Keep going. If you can’t spin a better lie, I’ll hang you from the city wall and beat you. You tricked the academy staff and infiltrated the Dragonbeast Academy—you really think I didn’t find out? Go now, subdue the dwarves of Soluo Islands, and reduce the hostility around us. Fail, and I’ll flay you alive.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Your Grace, I swear—I’ll charm the dwarves into obedience. If the human kingdom ever has no rebellions, you can take my head.”\u003C\u002Fp>",2100,"2026-06-20T13:10:04.638Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","c14b1d90a504fa5b663794a85c1bb8e157ed82f48429e6198932c0b750c2bee2","black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-83","black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-81",145,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fblack-dragon-necromancer-cover.jpg"]