Chapter 3

【Race: Hui Shouren】

【Level: Initial Stage Quasi-Warrior (equivalent to Initial Stage Quasi-Knight)】

【Talent: C-】

【Status: Weak】

【Race: Dijing】

【Level: None】

【Talent: F+】

【Status: Fearful】

【Race: Chailangren】

【Level: Mid-stage Warrior Attendant】

【Talent: D】

【Status: Hungry】

In the slave market, the most numerous were indeed the Orcs from the Northland.

Mostly Hui Shouren, Chailangren, and Dijing, these relatively lower-class races.

They were generally tall and strong, but their talent was mediocre; many couldn't even touch the threshold of a Knight Attendant.

Although Orcs occupied the vast Northland and their physical fitness was generally stronger than humans, the gap in wisdom and level of civilization meant they could never truly threaten the human kingdoms occupying the Central Continent.

Besides Orcs, one could occasionally see slaves of other races.

A few short, bearded Shandi Airen were locked in a cage, cursing at each other.

Roko glanced at them.

【Race: Shandi Airen】

【Level: Initial Stage Warrior】

【Talent: C-】

【Status: Hungry】

Average talent.

In the distance, there seemed to be a few figures with pointed ears and good looks, like Jingling.

But they were rare and expensive, and many people were gathered around watching.

Roko didn't go over to join the fun; he continued to scan with his gaze.

Talent was what he valued most.

Levels could be improved, skills could be learned, but talent determined a person's upper limit.

What he needed were seedlings with the potential to be cultivated into powerhouses.

Looking all the way, there were hundreds or thousands of slaves imprisoned.

There were also many human slaves, mostly prisoners of war or criminals.

But their talent was generally not high.

The one he saw with the highest talent was a male Chailangren, with knotted muscles and a fierce look in his eyes.

【Race: Kuangbao Chailangren (Mutated)】

【Level: Late Stage Warrior】

【Talent: A-】

【Status: Manic】

A-level talent.

This was already quite good potential, estimated to be able to cultivate to the realm equivalent to a Bronze Knight.

That slave trader clearly also knew the value of this Chailangren, marking an extremely high price; many people were watching, but few were actually asking the price.

Roko just took one look and then moved his gaze away.

A-level talent, indeed not bad.

But it was not enough.

Roko's goal was far more than this.

He continued to walk forward, his gaze like a scanner, quickly sweeping over the cages one by one.

Time passed bit by bit, and he saw more and more slaves, but not a single one met his psychological expectations.

The highest was just that A-level Chailangren.

Was his luck bad today?

Roko's brows furrowed imperceptibly.

Should he buy that Chailangren first, and then pick a few Orcs with passable talent to make up the numbers?

After all, time was limited, and he couldn't keep wasting it here.

Just as this thought flashed through his mind and his footsteps slowed slightly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly caught a glimpse of an iron cage in a corner.

It was a very inconspicuous cage, casually discarded next to a few wooden boxes piled with sundries, easily overlooked by people.

Inside the cage, an extremely thin and small figure was curled up.

It was a Maonv.

Her figure was pitifully petite, almost skin and bones, curled up there like a frightened little cat.

Her ears drooped powerlessly, and her furry tail also hung on the dirty straw, motionless.

Her face was very small, covered in dust and stains, making it impossible to see her original appearance.

Only a pair of large eyes were currently tightly closed.

On her long eyelashes, there seemed to be dried tear stains.

The tattered linen clothes couldn't hide her gaunt frame, and bloodstains from chafed skin could even be seen on her wrists and ankles.

She looked... like she was about to die.

Long-term hunger and abuse had almost exhausted all her vitality.

No one around seemed to notice this corner, this dying Maonv.

She was like a piece of discarded trash, waiting for the final end of her life.

Roko's heart moved for no reason.

He subconsciously focused his gaze.

The next second, an attribute panel suddenly appeared above the Maonv's frail body.

【Race: Maonv】

【Name: Fula】

【Level: None】

【Talent: SSS-Rank】

【Status: Near Death (Vitality is draining)】

【Favorability: 0】

【Loyalty: 0】

SSS-Rank talent!

Roko's pupils shrank violently.

He even doubted if he had misread it.

He blinked and confirmed it again.

The panel was still clearly suspended there.

【Talent: SSS-Rank】.

That line of text radiated a faint halo, blindingly bright.

This was the highest-level talent he had seen so far!

It was two major levels higher than his father, Marquis Li Wei Si, who was a peak Golden Knight with S-level talent!

This...

This was simply unbelievable!

A dying Maonv slave abandoned in a corner actually possessed SSS-Rank talent?

The huge contrast made Roko's heart beat uncontrollably faster.

He had found a treasure!

This was definitely a huge opportunity!

He forcibly suppressed the excitement in his heart, his face still maintaining calm.

But his footsteps had already walked toward that corner without hesitation.

Guard Captain Barton saw this and immediately followed, while waving his hand to signal his subordinates to clear the way.

The surrounding slave traders and others all looked curiously at the actions of this noble young master.

They didn't understand why this noble young master would walk toward that corner piled with sundries.

Could it be that there was some good merchandise overlooked there?

Roko stepped forward and walked toward the iron cage in that corner.

The steady sound of footsteps was not obvious in the slightly noisy environment, but it was enough for Guard Captain Barton, who had been keeping an eye on him, to follow immediately.

"Young Master!"

Barton's voice carried a hint of urgency; he took two quick steps and stretched out his arm, trying to block Roko's path.

"That slave... has some problems."

Barton lowered his voice and gestured toward the dilapidated iron cage.

"She has heterochromia, one golden eye and one blue eye."

"This represents bad luck."

Barton's tone was very cautious, wanting to fulfill his duty of reminding while not daring to offend the noble young master in front of him too much.

Roko's footsteps paused slightly, his gaze sharpening a bit.

Heterochromia?

He looked at the Maonv in the cage again.

Her frail body seemed to tremble slightly because of his approach.

She seemed to use all her strength to lift her head a little.

On her dirty little face, those tightly closed eyes were now struggling to open a slit.

The light was dim, but Roko still captured it.

A touch of deep blue.

A touch of crushed gold.

Sure enough, they were different colors.

Ordinary people might harbor taboos because of this, but Roko just raised his eyebrows slightly.

Bad luck?

In the face of SSS-Rank talent, the so-called "bad luck" was just a joke.

He even felt that this heterochromia was more like the external manifestation of some special talent.