Nightmare Flower was an extremely rare magical plant.
The bright red color of its petals and stalk often caused ignorant individuals to transplant it into their homes or gardens unknowingly. They would never have dreamt that they had invited a deadly flower of assassination into their home.
The Nightmare Flower could slowly absorb the Spirit of nearby lifeforms, inflicting mental fatigue upon the victims. If the victim were only an ordinary person, they would experience tremendous weariness as well as nightmare after nightmare. That was why the flower was known as the Nightmare Flower.
As the absorption of Spirit was a prolonged process implemented through a Spirit forcefield, most people wouldn’t even notice that it was the culprit. Consequently, those who lusted after the beauty of the Nightmare Flower and transplanted it into their gardens would always die of inexplicable mental failure.
Of course, such a low-level magical plant couldn’t possibly be of any harm to adepts. After all, their sensitive Spirits allowed them to sense the strange forcefield generated by the Nightmare Flower easily.
According to Billis’ understanding, Nightmare Flowers that had been feeding on human Spirits for ten years could be used to brew a special Keenthought Potion. This Keenthought Potion was a Second Grade potion even in the World of Adepts. It could continuously replenish an adept’s Spirit for half an hour.
The difficulty of his advancement would definitely become much lower if he could consume a Keenthought Potion during his attempt.
That was why Billis paused for a moment when he suddenly saw the ’Flower of Misfortune’ listed on the inventory. He couldn’t help but extend his insect claw to pinch the parchment and demanded with a soft voice, "What does this Flower of Misfortune look like? Describe it to me."
The crass-looking slaver head immediately leaned over at the first sign of a prospective venture. He didn’t care about Billis’ non-human hand and started to describe the appearance, age, and look of the flower in great detail.
Billis immediately fell into deep thought after hearing the slaver’s description.
In all honesty, he hadn’t had too much hope when he asked the question. After all, this was the Faen Plane, not the World of Adepts. The names of the flowers might be similar, but there was a possibility that they were two completely different plants.
However, judging by the person’s descriptions, Billis had absolute certainty that the Flowers of Misfortune growing in the Faen Plane were the rare Nightmare Flowers found in the World of Adepts.
Of course, the Faen Plane also had plenty of casters and had thus discovered the unique characteristics of this magical plant. That said, the alchemy system of Faen was not as developed as the World of Adepts. They did not have any effective methods of extracting the spirit within the Flower of Misfortune.
That was why the Nightmare Flowers that could easily sell for six thousand magical crystals per plant were only considered an auxiliary alchemical material here. Their base price was approximately two to three hundred magical crystals.
Perhaps it was the scarcity of the plant combined with the different name that prevented it from being discovered by the Pale Witches. Otherwise, Billis would never have experienced such a fortunate event.
Billis immediately dragged the head slaver to a corner without any hesitation and started a round of negotiations while being careful to keep his cards close to his chest.
The head slaver might have figured out that the Flowers of Misfortune were more important to this adept, but he didn’t push the price excessively out of his desire to leave on friendly terms.
After a round of negotiations, Billis turned over his claim of the fifteen elven slaves to the head slaver, while the man handed over four twenty-year-old Flowers of Misfortune.
After Billis had successfully pocketed the four Flowers of Misfortune, the only thing left was for the head slaver to pick the slaves he wanted.
The slaver had clearly figured out which goods he wanted, as he quickly picked out the elven slaves that he liked. His choice was very much beyond Billis’ expectations.
If Billis had been the one to choose, he would have gone for those with high elemental affinity and those with power. Though the head slaver had only chosen First Grade profession owners, they mysteriously included every single profession: archers, casters, and druids.
Moreover, he didn’t choose the few advanced First Grade elves. He instead opted for several beginner First Grades.
Billis turned his green eyes around several times before he discovered the surprising truth. The elves that the slaver had chosen might not be the strongest, but he had chosen slender bodies, perfect figures, and their pretty and youthful faces; the slenderness and beauty of the elves were perfectly embodied in these individuals!
After selecting the slaves he wanted, a native teenage girl waved a crystal stick and dispelled the defensive arrays around the wooden cages. She then unlocked the doors and ousted the chosen elves out of the cages.
The elves inside the wooden cages immediately started cursing and crying, turning the place into a chaotic mess of shouting and yelling.
However, the compounded effect of the sealing and weakening spells had turned the once mighty forest elves into frail beings. The native girl was a normal human at best. Her muscles weren’t even developed. Yet, any single strike from her easily brought a master sword dancer to the ground.
An indescribable sorrow and tragedy rose in the hearts of the elves as they saw their once undefeated companions turn into defenseless weaklings, causing them to cry out loud.
The people around the cages didn’t feel a trace of sympathy for the tears of these weaklings. Instead, they all let out laughter as if savoring the suffering of these slaves.
Billis did not leave immediately after completing the trade. Instead, he turned to look at the other head slaver and merchant union representatives.
"Since you are all here now, why don’t you show me any good things you have in stock!"
The other slavers and merchants were already itching to go after seeing their companion’s trade. They immediately swarmed the adept and took out the inventory lists they had carefully prepared.
And who’d have known? After some close examination, Billis discovered two rare materials that he was extremely interested in– the Redscale Overlord and the Poisondragon Water.
The former was an odd insect with tough red scales, while the latter was a poison potion.
Though Billis couldn’t confirm their effects in the short term, collecting them for research would have significant benefits for his insect modifications in the future.
These rare materials had slipped past the net due to the misevaluation of the Pale Witches, or perhaps due to them not caring for such ’small’ profits. Somehow, they had landed in Billis’ hand. Naturally, there was no way he would let them pass.
Billis spent the rest of his time in the slave market. Not only did he gladly trade away his reward from the clan, he even spent half of the twenty thousand magical crystals he had just received.
In exchange, he obtained plenty of odd flowers and herbs, along with some strange insects and poisonous bugs.
There was never such a time where Billis had so strongly felt that otherworldly planar wars were truly the fastest way to wealth!
............
Even as Billis was enjoying his search for treasure in another world, his Crimson Clan leader Greem received a mysterious guest.
Honestly, Greem had never imagined that a familiar face would visit him in this other world.
"Lord Arms, I didn’t think you were still in Faen."
Greem was sitting inside his room, leisurely enjoying the rich wine in his hand.
The guest took off his hood and revealed his head of long, blue hair. It shimmered with crackling electricity that, when paired with his handsome and sturdy face, gave an intimidating appearance.
It was the Third Grade Thunder Dragon Arms!
Arms was standing straight, and his amber eyes swept from side to side before he offered his praise, "You adepts are truly powerful casters that are famed across the multiverse. To think you could build such a mysterious and powerful magical structure even upon the land of a different world. No wonder you people could fend off the attacks of the natives and survive here."
Greem didn’t know whether to cry or laugh at the dragon’s forced and awkward flattery.
"Lord Arms, we are already old partners. I will most definitely help with anything you need!"
In honesty, the Third Grade thunder dragon was bearing quite the considerable risk in disguising himself and visiting Greem in this manner.
Where was this?
This place was an adept’s tower guarded by a Fourth Grade witch!
Even with the Third Grade thunder dragon’s might, he would be captured alive within minutes if he was to catch the attention of that witch. That was why he would never have dared to take a single step into this tower if not for his faith in Greem.
Greem hadn’t done anything to him even when he was utterly sealed the last time. This time, they were in someone else’s tower. Greem wouldn’t be the greatest benefactor if he sold him out here. As such, Arms was confident that Greem would never sell him out in this place.
Still, as a Third Grade dragon, asking for help from a Second Grade adept was a request that was extremely hard to put into words!
"Er, did I heard that in two more weeks it would be the day you adepts open the planar door and return to the World of Adepts?" It was a simple sentence, but Arms practically butchered it with how much he was stuttering and mumbling.
That said, Greem still understood what he was trying to say.
"Indeed, the planar door will open in fourteen more days." Greem looked at Arms with an expression of surprise, "Could it be that my Lord wants to follow us back to the World of Adepts?"
It was no wonder Greem was so shocked. The day of the planar door’s opening would also be the day the witches were their most alert. It didn’t matter how good Arms’ Transfiguration was; he would not be able to sneak across successfully. Moreover, the Third Grade thunder dragon had been forcefully summoned here from Lance through a contract summoning. All he needed to do to return was to borrow the power of the contract. Why would he need to use the World of Adepts as a transit point?
"Don’t worry, my Lord. If you wish to travel to Lance through our world, I might be able to come up with some ideas for you!"
"And if there are more people trying to travel the same way?"
"Oh?"
"Eleven dragons. Can you think of a way to help me bring them back to Lance?"
"Ah."
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