Chapter 745: Iron Pots and the [Lame Old Dog]

Engaging in theft within territory under the protection of the Thieves Guild—if that person isn't a fool, then they are deliberately provoking them.

As for the outcome, although Mr. Scott has rarely heard of such things happening here, they do occur, and the fate of those people remains a mystery.

The perpetrators simply evaporated into thin air. This is a result that makes others shudder just thinking about it, because it effectively stimulates everyone's imagination, relying on each individual's own worst-case scenarios to remind others—do not pull any stunts in the Underground Black Market.

A person's reputation is like a tree's shadow; the Thieves Guild's massive fame is clearly not fake.

It is said that in the first few years after the Thieves Guild took over the affairs of the Duoen Town black market, there were still some troublesome incidents, mostly caused by crude and stupid Bandits. Those Bandits who would hide in remote mountains and forests once they committed a crime, it is said, also vanished from the world without a sound after annoying the Thieves Guild.

After all, if they can lift coins from your pocket in broad daylight, they can naturally send a sharp, poisoned Dagger into your soft abdomen in the dead of night.

Mr. Scott smiled and reached out to point upward, signaling for Knight Jier to look up.

At this moment, Jier looked up and only then noticed that in the bright underground street, the top was not the common, simple Rock Passage ceiling; instead, at regular intervals, an abstract, strange face had been deliberately carved into it.

It was human-like yet not human, twisted and grotesque, yet possessing an artistic aesthetic.

This face was several meters in size, carefully carved into the top of the passage, facing the long stretch of street stalls below and the Cloaks coming and going to trade.

Jier noticed that this carved, strange facial pattern had only one eye, the size of a door panel, placed in the center of the face. And just as Jier looked up to pay attention to that eye, the very core of the eye suddenly blinked, then the pupil rotated, curiously peering down at Jier.

Thus, with the two sides locking eyes, they remained at a stalemate for a moment. Eventually, Jier twitched the corner of his mouth and shifted his gaze away, while the other party seemed curious about him and continued to stare at Jier.

Jier whispered to Mr. Scott, "What is that thing? Whose eye is it?"

Mr. Scott seemed to have anticipated Jier's reaction and question at this moment. He said with a slight smile, "What else could it be? A Magic mechanism? A mysterious Monster? A sculpture of Divine Power? None of those. That is a secret observation post located in the building above the street, used to monitor everyone's behavior on the street."

"I know what you want to ask. Actually, there are people lying prone up there. As long as there are people walking below to buy things, they lie above and monitor the trading behavior below. They guard against non-compliant behavior like theft, fraud, and fighting. Even if someone actively exposes another's disguise, they will be called out by the management personnel responsible for order, who are seen by those above."

Jier was speechless. He curled his lip, not expecting it to be a manual 'surveillance camera'; he had thought it was some strange thing.

However, relying on this simple, primitive method to maintain order at a low cost while keeping a sense of mystery, the Thieves Guild is quite capable. If it weren't for the explanation from Mr. Scott, a core executive of the Dorn Town Chamber of Commerce Union, Jier would have really been bluffed.

The huge, strange face located at the top of the passage, along with the active single eye on the face, is truly easy for someone to associate with mysterious things upon first contact.

"By the way, that face? Why carve it so strangely?"

Jier's words suddenly made Mr. Scott nervous: "What do you mean strange! Please be careful with your words. That is the face of the God of Darkness, a great existence that those people have Faith in. It is not something strange. Be careful not to let others hear you."

Jier recited silently in his heart: 'God of Darkness?'

What kind of deity is this? He hadn't heard much about it; he had never seen churches or temples of this figure before.

Fearing that Knight Jier might say something else about the topic above his head, Mr. Scott pulled Jier's Cloak toward a stall by the underground street, signaling for Jier to take a look and choose what he needed to buy.

Although still curious about the Thieves Guild and the God of Darkness, Jier knew what he was here for, so he collected his thoughts and focused on shopping.

Although the stalls along the underground street were simple and direct, it was clear that the black Merchants running them were managing them well. Each small stall even had its own unique name, though the names here were different from the traditional shops in Dorn Town above; they were more stylish and stranger. There were no unique, flashy hanging signs here; instead, they took a small wooden board, wrote the shop name and drew a simple pattern on it, then found a support stick to prop it up behind the wooden stall.

The stall to the right as Jier and the others entered had a funny name, called 【Lame Old Dog】. Jier didn't see any dogs for sale at the stall either; he guessed this name was one the Merchant had come up with to mock himself.

Because when Jier and Mr. Scott approached this stall, he noticed the Merchant rising to greet them had some difficulty in his movements, as if there were something wrong with his legs.

"Welcome, you two. What do you need? Everything here is low-priced goods acquired from scattered Bandits. Although they aren't currently in high demand, if you find a way to get them to other places, you can still make a profit."

As soon as the Merchant spoke, his hoarse voice made one unable to help but frown. It was hard to tell if the man was deliberately speaking with a hoarse voice or if his throat had truly become like that from drinking. A stench of alcohol also drifted over; it was likely that when this person was sitting behind the stall just now, he hadn't done little to secretly drink while using the stall in front of him as cover.

It was mainly because he couldn't let passing people see his covered face, so he had to hide and drink secretly.

Jier looked at the physical goods displayed on his stall and discovered that this stall sold various iron pots. These iron pots varied in style, and as for size, they weren't very big, suitable for four or five people to eat, rather than the rice pots that could feed a dozen people in an ordinary Farmer's home.

A little analysis revealed that these iron pots were not the kind used at home, but small camping pots used when traveling and camping in the wild.

These small iron pots had another feature: they had hooks on the rims, allowing people to hang them to cook food.

If it were an iron pot for home use, one would usually have a blacksmith forge an iron pot that could be placed and locked onto the home stove. Or, one would have the home stove built to the size of an iron pot already on hand.

And if one thinks deeply, where did these seemingly ordinary camping iron pots actually come from?

Does every pot represent a process of violent robbery behind it?

Smacking his lips, Jier felt a bit uncomfortable, but then he thought about it—this thing wasn't for his use anyway, so there was no need to care.

"How much?"

Jier asked.

The Merchant pointed to the wooden sign next to the iron pots on the shelf, where the price was marked.

A camping iron pot of ordinary style was only thirty copper coins. The same item on the market was usually priced at fifty copper coins or more.

Considering that the iron pots were made of iron and were not light in weight, even if one were to melt them down into iron material to exchange for money, it was estimated that the difference wouldn't be much. Clearly, this price was very cost-effective.

Jier looked at Mr. Scott, then said to the Merchant: "I see it, of course, but I'm not just buying one. If I buy several together, how is the price calculated?"

The other party's eyes lit up, and he immediately replied: "Easy, easy. Different quantities have different discounts. So, how many do you want? Give me a number so I can calculate."

In Jier's group right now, many people were still lining up to cook and eat at meal times, and there were still quite a few pots missing. Although they were barely enough, having more pots to cook with would reduce the time consumed every day after setting up camp.

Moreover, after settling down later, the current scale of the group would clearly disperse further. As time went on, it would eventually change from people who were familiar with each other in their current Cunzi acting together to each household living and acting separately.

Considering this, Jier held up a number and said softly: "Fifteen. How is the price calculated?"

Fifteen pots—this quantity was not small. The Merchant reached into his hood and rubbed his nose, which wasn't showing, and said excitedly: "Fifteen pots, the price should be four hundred and fifty copper coins. Hmm, how about I waive fifty copper coins for you? It's already cheap; that's fair enough, right?"

"Four hundred copper coins? Lower! A bit lower!"

"Can't go lower. Any lower and I'll be losing money." The Merchant, with a mouth full of alcohol stench, waved his hands in refusal, but Jier shrugged: "These broken pots collected from Bandits probably have quite a bit of blood on them. I'm using them to cook; this bad luck and discomfort—the goods aren't easy to sell, right?"

He tilted his chin up. Although it wasn't very obvious while wearing a hood, it was clear that Jier was indicating that these iron pots were harder to sell compared to other things.

"Take off another fifty copper coins, three Silver Coins and fifty copper coins, and I'll buy them right now. After selling these today, you can go home and tidy up, then go to a tavern to relax properly. That's much easier and more enjoyable than drinking secretly here. How about it?"

It seemed that Jier, this young man, had hit the nail on the head regarding his secret drinking. The man hesitated for a moment, considering whether to give up this deal that would only earn him a little over two Silver Coins and continue to spend the day doing nothing here, or just close this deal and use the money earned to go to a tavern and live it up.

For a professional Merchant, of course, the choice would be the former. Although the former would lose a transaction about to be completed, iron pots wouldn't go bad anyway. Based on the convention that not taking a big advantage in a trade is a loss, of course, one would keep the goods to earn money from the next person.

But don't underestimate the attraction of drinking happily to a drunkard.

It's all business anyway, just a difference in earning more or less. And compared to drinking secretly in the Underground Black Market versus bragging, drinking, and eating meat in a tavern—for a drunkard, there's no choice to be made.

"Deal! Cash, transaction now, three Silver Coins and fifty copper coins!"

The Merchant slammed his fist into his palm, directly closing the deal.

Thus, Jier fumbled in his money pouch and took out four Kingdom Silver Coins.

"This! You still want me to give you change, right?"

The Merchant at the stall cursed irritably, then counted out fifty copper coins one by one from his own money pouch, placing the coins stacked in five piles onto the wooden stall. Jier also handed over four Silver Coins, one by one, with a clinking sound, into the hand the other party extended.

"How should these iron pots I've bought be transported?"

Jier asked Mr. Scott. Mr. Scott simply raised his right hand and waved toward the eye in the center of the strange face above.

Soon, a short time after that eye retracted, a figure in a black Cloak with patterned decorations walked out from the passage ahead.

As soon as this person arrived, they clarified the details of the transaction amidst the flattery of the stall-holding Merchant, and then, without anyone knowing how they contacted them, two more figures in black Cloaks arrived carrying a wooden crate. The newcomers helped load the iron pots Jier had bought into the wooden crate, which fit them perfectly.

While they were busy, Jier whispered to Mr. Scott: "What is the background of this person wearing different attire?"

Mr. Scott explained: "They are just a Shop Assistant from the Underground Black Market who helps with deliveries; don't be fooled by the way they are being flattered, they actually have no real background. In a moment, they will ask you where you want the items delivered. Are you having them sent to the open ground where your people are? Or should they be sent to my place first, and I will arrange for someone to take them to you later?"

Jier did not care about the operational rules of the Underground Black Market and replied directly: "Just send them to my place."

"But this could easily lead to your identity being guessed, you know?"

Jier shrugged: "I don't really care. If they know, they know. Or are you saying that organization is afraid to have contact with me?"

"How could that be? There is nothing they wouldn't dare to do."

Just as Mr. Scott had said, after loading the iron pots Jier bought into the crate, the black Cloak with the unique patterned decorations walked up to Jier and asked in a young voice: "Sir, where in the town should the goods you purchased be delivered? Or somewhere else? We do not charge for deliveries within the town. For locations outside the town, we calculate the fee based on distance and weight."

Jier leaned close to the person's ear and whispered: "Deliver them to the newly built open ground on the south side outside the town, and hand them over to the group of Refugees there. That is outside the town, right? How is the price calculated?"

Jier clearly felt that after he stated the location, the black Cloak with the young voice froze for a moment.

The person was stunned for quite a while, seemingly judging something, before responding: "If it is that place, because, uh, because it is close enough to the town, we will not charge you this time."

Having said that, the person spoke in a slightly louder voice: "Please rest assured and leave the items to us; we will deliver the goods you purchased in the black market to your designated location. Please continue to look around; there is a wide variety of items here at cheap prices, but please do not ask where they all come from."

"Farewell."

After saying this, the black Cloak with the unique patterned decorations hurried away.

Jier chuckled, waved at the drunken Merchant who was preparing to close his stall, and walked toward the next stall with Mr. Scott.

At the next stall, the Merchant was already rubbing his hands, preparing to receive Jier and his companion.