Over the course of three days, many people continuously poured into the Bounty City.
The streets became crowded and noisy.
There were travel-worn bounty hunters, most of whom were well-equipped with sharp gazes.
There were adventure groups responsible for escorting commoner families.
They guarded the withered figures in wheelchairs at the center of the crowd.
More numerous were the families accompanying the elderly.
Most of them were very young, and some were even just half-grown children.
When trekking through the wilderness, being young meant stronger survival skills and being less of a burden.
As for the local refugee families who had been scattered outside the city previously.
Most were now gathered on both sides of the streets, watching everything in silence.
They were the ones from the previous round of the selection meeting whose family members had not been judged as "the dying."
To save on travel expenses, they had remained in the Bounty City for the time being.
Three days later, the selection meeting officially began.
There were no elaborate rituals or speeches from high platforms as one might imagine.
All the participants gathered in an open clearing outside the city.
Blackbeard stood at the very front, followed by all the dwarves from the tavern who had come from the Royal Capital.
They checked each elderly person’s physical condition one by one and recorded their names.
Afterward, the family members were allowed to step forward to say their final goodbyes.
There were embraces, whispers, silent weeping, or those kneeling and kowtowing while begging for the elderly to reach the brink of death.
Then, the dwarves stepped forward and fed bottles of Iron Will potions into the mouths of the elderly.
Next, they pushed the wheelchairs and walked in batches toward the nearby grey-white wall of mist.
The rules of the selection were very simple yet cruel—one could even say barbaric.
All the elderly participating in the selection would enter a mist-covered area that was not a safe node.
They had to survive for five minutes while surrounded by spectral demons.
As long as they could come out alive, they would obtain the qualification to be a guide.
There were over a hundred elderly people, divided into ten batches.
The wheels of each wheelchair ground over the wasteland, slowly sinking into the grey mist.
The dwarves let go and quickly retreated.
Time passed bit by bit.
The sunlight was harsh, shining down on the empty wasteland.
Beyond the wall of mist, all was silent.
Occasionally, one or two blurred wails drifted from the deepest depths, only to vanish quickly.
Five minutes, then ten minutes.
The first batch of dwarves re-entered the mist.
When they came out, they were pushing wheelchairs.
On the chairs, the elderly sat slumped, their faces as pale as paper, but their chests were still heaving.
Someone cheered in a low voice.
But more people remained staring fixedly at the wall of mist.
The second batch of dwarves entered.
When they came out, the wheelchairs were empty.
In their stead, several deep marks were on the backs of the chairs, as if torn by invisible sharp claws.
Wood splinters were upturned, stained with dark red.
The third batch, the fourth batch...
As time went on, fewer and fewer wheelchairs were pushed back intact.
More common were damaged wheelchairs, stained with blood and severed limbs.
Those fragments and bloodstains appeared exceptionally cold and eye-catching under the piercing sunlight.
The waiting family members reacted in various ways.
Some threw themselves onto wheelchairs covered in blood and limbs, wailing loudly.
The blood of the elderly soaked their tattered clothes.
Others rushed toward those empty wheelchairs stained with the remains of their kin.
At first they were dazed, then they erupted in fury.
"Why didn't you hold on?! You old geezer!"
"Why couldn't you persist a bit longer?!"
"How much money did I spend to raise you?!"
"You're dead... it's all over!!"
Some even lost control and kicked the wheelchairs, cursing and howling.
It wasn't until the cold gazes of the dwarves swept over them.
Only then did they fall silent as if strangled, trembling as they retracted their steps.
The selection meeting began with a flourish but ended with exceptional speed.
In less than half an hour, everything was settled.
Of the hundred-plus elderly participants, only six eventually returned alive into the sunlight.
Blackbeard stepped forward and, according to the rules, reimbursed all the participating families for their travel commission fees and distributed ten gold coins to each person as compensation.
Ten gold coins was a small fortune for an ordinary family.
However, compared to the "hiring" that was about to begin, it was insignificant.
The six elderly people were brought to the front of the clearing in sequence.
They were arranged according to the "health status" they displayed at that moment.
The one in the worst physical condition, who looked as if they would draw their last breath at any second, was placed at the very edge.
Meanwhile, the one whose spirit was relatively the best, who could even barely sit upright, was positioned in the middle.
The atmosphere shifted quietly.
Before the selection, everyone had hoped their family’s elder was "sufficiently close to death."
Now, whether it was the families or the predatory bounty hunters, they only hoped for one thing.
"Live just a little longer."
"At least long enough to guide for two days."
Blackbeard cleared his throat, his voice booming:
"Now, the hiring bids begin."
"First, Old John. Physical condition: poor. Estimated effective guiding time: one day."
"Starting price, fifty thousand gold coins."
After a brief silence, the bidding voices rang out one after another.
"Fifty-five thousand!"
"Sixty thousand!"
"Seventy thousand!"
The man named Old John sat with his head bowed, his breathing faint, showing no reaction to the clamor around him.
His family members—
A pair of young siblings—clutched their hands together tightly, their nails digging into their palms.
Eventually, the price settled at two hundred thousand gold coins.
He was bought by the Demon Hunter Cass.
The siblings breathed a sigh of relief, yet their eyes turned red at the same time.
They walked to their grandfather’s side, knelt down, and whispered something in low tones.
The old man raised his hand with extreme slowness and patted his grandson’s head.
The second, the third...
The prices rose steadily along with the "health status" of the elderly.
When it came to the sixth guide.
The atmosphere suddenly became intense when the old man in the best condition was presented.
He could still sit upright on his own, and although his eyes were cloudy, they still had focus.
Starting price, fifty thousand.
"One hundred thousand!"
"One hundred and fifty thousand!"
"Two hundred thousand!"
"Three hundred thousand!"
The calls rose one after another, and the amount of gold coins climbed at a staggering speed.
Four hundred thousand, five hundred thousand, seven hundred thousand...
In the end, the price stopped at nine hundred and fifty thousand gold coins.
He was won by a sweet-looking girl.
The entire venue fell silent for a moment.
Nine hundred and fifty thousand.
For the vast majority of people present, this was an astronomical figure.
The old man's family members—
A thin, small girl and her mother—were completely stunned.
They covered their mouths, tears falling silently.
It wasn't sadness, but complete bewilderment and loss.
The old man in the wheelchair looked at his granddaughter's dazed expression and forced out a smile.
He reached out his trembling hand and grasped her small hand.
His voice was hoarse, yet carried clear tenderness:
"Lulu... in the future, you'll be able to live in a spacious, clean white house."
"You won't be looked down upon anymore... and you can go study magic..."
"Haven't you always wanted... to be like the witches in the fairy tales, flying freely in the sky?"
The little girl burst out crying, tightly hugging her grandfather’s withered arm:
"I don't want to study magic! I don't want a white house!"
"I only want you... I only want Grandpa..."
The old man’s eyes turned red, but he only gently patted his granddaughter’s back.
Beside him, another old man who had been bought for eight hundred thousand gold coins suddenly coughed a few times.
He feebly twitched the corners of his mouth at the sobbing little girl:
"Hey, little girl..."
"For old things like us, being able to live until we die naturally is already a mercy from the Goddess of Light."
He paused, taking a breath:
"Look at the others... those who were fed to demons, those who died of disease, those who were beaten to death..."
"For us like this... to be able to earn such a huge sum for our families before we leave..."
"It's a blessing."
"Even if I die right now, I'll do so willingly."
After he finished speaking, he began to cough violently again.
His family members hurried forward, carefully patting his back to hide his wretched appearance.
Their eyes darted nervously toward the hunter who had bought them, terrified that the other party would back out of the deal.
Rate on N.U.
