Chapter 75: Child of the Devil, Garos's Target

The one-eared wolf leader paced over to the cart, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the crate, then grinned to reveal a row of bone-white fangs.

"What is inside here?"

It asked.

"Dragons, dragon blood," the apprentice hadn't finished speaking before Nick cut him off: "Chicken blood stone, just some cheap chicken blood stone."

The wolf ignored him; with a swipe of his claw, the crate's lock snapped.

The moment the lid was lifted, the pile of red chicken blood stone inside was exposed to the sunlight; the color was indeed vivid and bright, but there was no trace of magic fluctuation, purely inferior goods, useless to the monster clans on the wasteland.

"Do you have black oil, Magic energy stone weight!"

The one-eared wolf asked in a deep voice, his eyes revealing pure ferocity.

Nick's gaze flickered, and he hurriedly said: "Powerful wolf, I am sorry to disappoint you, we did not choose these goods for this trading journey, but if you need them, I guarantee, next time I will return here with black oil and Magic energy stone weight to trade with you, giving you the most favorable price."

The one-eared wolf grinned.

"Wolf cubs! Knock out and tie up all these humans! Kill anyone who resists on the spot."

Nick was stunned: "Wait, wait!"

Before the words had even faded, the one-eared wolf swiped a claw at him.

The world spun and whirled.

Nick's vision finally froze on the blazing white sky, while the screams of his companions and the low growls of the wolves echoed in his ears.

With the scarred driver as a cautionary tale, the rest dared not resist, and resistance was a dead end anyway, so they obediently let themselves be knocked out and tied up.

Crescent Moon Valley, territory of the Howling Moon Clan.

Under a night curtain like black velvet, the unconscious humans were brought here one by one.

The Red Iron Dragon sat at the entrance of the shadowed rock cave, concealing its form, its gaze calm and steady from behind the scenes, quietly looking down at the humans below.

More accurately speaking.

It was humans, and a 'Child of the Devil'.

Garos noticed the antler-like twin horns on the sorceress's head and her green eyes, while simultaneously sensing the strange aura overflowing around her, seeming evil, seeming chaotic, yet carrying a touch of humanity.

At first glance.

Garos was somewhat puzzled, wondering if some human and antelope had developed a relationship beyond friendship, thus giving birth to this antler-horned sorceress?

But in the next instant, the Dragon's Legacy naturally brought forth corresponding knowledge, letting him know the truth.

This sorceress was not pure-blooded human, nor was she a hybrid born of a human and an antelope; their race is named 【Tiefling】, which in the Common Tongue also has another meaning—Child of the Devil.

Tieflings are humans possessing devil bloodlines.

They are derived from human bloodlines and generally look like humans, but the devil lineage simultaneously left clear marks on their appearance; the horns on their heads and the tails behind them all indicate their alien identity.

In the human world.

No, or rather, in the world of intelligent civilizations, Tieflings, due to the devil bloodline they carry, are unwelcome wherever they go.

And because of the gaze, fear, and distrust of others.

Even though Tieflings are not an inherently evil race, the vast majority of Tieflings will walk the path of evil, which in turn exacerbates the stereotypes intelligent beings hold against Tieflings, forming a vicious cycle.

"A discriminated, unwelcome Child of the Devil, a somewhat shabby and down-on-their-luck caravan; this combination is quite normal."

Garos thought.

"However, why does this female Tiefling have pupils? The Legacy says their eyes are solid-colored, with no distinction of whites or pupils."

The Red Iron Dragon flicked its tail, somewhat puzzled.

Could this Tiefling have some other bloodline mixed in? Interesting.

At the same time.

The mature wolf splashed cold water on the few of them, waking them from their unconscious state.

Through the spell-like skill of Thought Perception, Garos's thoughts were directly transmitted into the old shaman's mind.

He did not reveal himself, remaining hidden behind the scenes, while the old shaman executed his will, his gaze turning toward the Tiefling as he said: "Child of the Devil, your green eyes resemble an elf's more than a Tiefling's."

Maggie was slightly stunned.

She hadn't expected that a monster clan in the wasteland would know her identity.

In her impression, although the wasteland monster clans possessed intelligence, their understanding was shallow, their style of action barbaric, and communication difficult.

On the other side, Nick heard the old shaman's words, and his eyes glowed slightly.

This old shaman seemed different; he knew of the Child of the Devil, knew of Tieflings, possessed knowledge other wolves lacked, and seemed capable of communication.

As long as communication was possible, negotiation was possible.

Nick was confident that with his silver tongue, he could at least secure a chance to live.

If luck was a bit better, perhaps he could even establish stable trade relations with this wolf clan, buying their furs, claws, and minerals at low prices; this was an opportunity to get rich.

Merchants know how to dig up every opportunity to make money.

Nick immediately interjected, a smile on his face, explaining for the inarticulate Maggie: "Oh, to know of the existence of Tieflings, you are clearly a wolf elder full of wisdom and foresight."

"Her eyes are wearing thin lenses that can beautify the iris color, a little gadget invented by alchemists, very popular in the southern nations."

Nick shifted his gaze.

Maggie silently removed the contact lenses, revealing a pair of solid, somewhat bewitching green eyes.

"If you like such little gadgets, or have anything you like, I can bring it to you and give you the most favorable price, of course, on the premise that you are willing to spare us and give us a chance to build trust."

Nick said, his face piled with smiles.

So it was just wearing contact lenses; I was wondering why the eyes seemed a bit strange.

Garos remained expressionless, his gaze shifting from the Tiefling sorceress to Nick.

This merchant, with an ordinary appearance and a hint of shrewdness radiating from him, had initially not attracted Garos's attention, but his words, attempting to sell and establish a trade while surrounded by a pack of wolves, did catch Garos's interest.

"This person might be useful."

He thought it over, then conveyed the idea to the old shaman.

The old shaman took the hint, asked Nick's name, then got straight to the point: "Human, I want black oil and magic energy stones. Can you bring them?"

Black oil and magic energy stones?

What would the monster clans of the wasteland want those for?

The shaman before him, and the one-eared wolfman who had questioned him earlier, had both mentioned black oil and magic energy stones.

Nick swept a sidelong glance around and saw no large alchemical golems.

Although some of the wolfmen carried alchemical gear, none of it required black oil or magic energy stones.

For instance, the steam-cart he'd used to haul goods this time ran on combustion stones, a cheaper mineral than black oil.

Black oil had more advanced uses; this kind of energy mainly powered alchemical golems, or some large alchemical devices, and magic energy stones were similar, only with an even higher energy-supply efficiency than black oil.

"Of course, of course."

Nick squared his chest, and even mustered his courage to stand up, brushing the dust from the hem of his clothes.

He bowed to the old shaman as a sign of respect, then said, "Black oil has wide uses; in the civilized nations of the south there are many proper channels through which to purchase it. As for magic energy stones, although it's a bit of trouble, I can still guarantee I'll bring you some."

Garos flicked his dragon tail slightly, his eyes narrowing.

Sure enough — things that were hard to come by in the wasteland could be obtained with ease if one could establish a channel leading to the southern nations, just like the blood-chicken stones that were everywhere and worthless in the wasteland, yet served as decent raw material for jewelry in the southern nations.

Some things.

In their place of origin, they might be worth nothing at all.

But take them somewhere else, and their value would immediately soar.

And in this process, the most important thing was to obtain a reliable, controllable, sustainable "channel."

"You've won yourself a chance to live."

The old shaman smiled faintly, bared his tusks at Nick, then shifted his tone and said, "But humans are always insatiably greedy and false to their word — especially the merchants among them."

Nick's heart gave a start.

He hastened to say, "Oh, I swear on the souls of all my departed ancestors, I'm different from other merchants. Everyone who has ever done business with me trusts me greatly because of my honesty."

(End of chapter)