Inside the shop sat a shriveled old man wearing a dusty gray robe. He was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed.
Ethan pushed aside the door curtain and stepped inside.
The old man opened his eyes, his cloudy pupils shifting to rest on Ethan.
"Selling something?"
Ethan pulled the hairpin and the gauntlets from his robes and placed them on the counter.
The old man reached out and picked up the hairpin, turning it over several times. Then he picked up the gauntlets and inspected them with equal care.
"Frost Hairpin, an Apprentice-level Wizardry Tool. The materials are average and the craftsmanship is crude. At most, it's worth ten magic stones."
He set the hairpin down and weighed the gauntlets in his hand. "Stone Skin Gauntlets, also Apprentice-level. They can briefly harden the user's fists for offense and defense, but they drain mental energy far too quickly. Their practical value is limited. Twelve magic stones."
He looked up, his cloudy eyes fixed on Ethan. "Twenty-two magic stones for the pair."
Ethan shook his head. "Too low."
The old man sneered. "Fine, you name a price."
"Eleven for the hairpin, fourteen for the gauntlets—twenty-five total."
"Actually, fourteen for the hairpin, fifteen for the gauntlets—twenty-nine total."
The old man's eyes darted back and forth as he stared at Ethan for several breaths. Then, he let out a sharp scoff.
"Kid, is this your first time selling something?" He shoved the two Wizardry Tools back across the counter. "Twenty-nine is impossible. Twenty-five, tops."
"Fine, twenty-five it is."
"??? Heh, you've got a sharp head on your shoulders, kid. Twenty-five it is. If you want to sell anything else in the future, come back to me. I never cheat anyone."
Ethan collected the magic stones. "Right, never cheat anyone."
Hearing the sarcasm in Ethan's voice, the old man's eyes widened. "You little..."
Unfortunately for him, Ethan had already turned and walked out.
After leaving the shop, Ethan began to wander leisurely through the trading area.
He paused when he reached a stall selling stationery.
The stall was small, displaying common items like quill pens, blank parchment, ink bottles, and rulers.
The stall owner was a middle-aged man in his forties.
Ethan crouched down and picked up a quill to examine it.
Just then, an extremely faint fluctuation emanated from the corner of the stall.
The fluctuation was incredibly subtle, almost undetectable, like a tiny ripple caused by a passing breeze.
But in that instant, Ethan's senses were triggered.
Plant Affinity.
He shifted his gaze toward the source without changing his expression.
Lying at the very edge of the stall was a four-leaf clover, its roots still encased in a ball of soil.
The leaves were a deep green, and if one looked closely, faint silver patterns could be seen on their surface, though they were almost invisible in the dim light.
The soil around the roots was dry and cracked, making it look like it had been discarded there for a long time.
The faint fluctuation was coming from this clover.
It was "calling" to him.
Ethan looked away, his face remaining neutral.
He picked up a few more quills to inspect before looking up at the stall owner.
"How much for these?"
The owner looked up and glanced at Ethan. Seeing a young face, he answered casually, "One gold coin for ten quills, one gold coin for twenty sheets of paper, and one gold coin for five bottles of ink."
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
That expensive?
Students really were easy targets.
He reached into his robes, pulled out several gold notes, and handed over one worth a hundred gold coins.
"Give me five quills, ten bottles of ink, and use the rest for paper."
The owner's eyes brightened as he took the note.
He stood up quickly, pulling stacks of paper from beneath the stall. He counted out five quills and ten small ink bottles, stuffed everything into a large cloth bag, and piled it in front of Ethan.
"One hundred gold coins exactly." The owner tucked the gold note into his pocket, a smile spreading across his face. "You must be a new apprentice, young man. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to come back. I have everything, and my prices are fair."
Ethan nodded and stood up, pretending to glance casually at the clover in the corner.
"Oh? Why do you have a clump of grass here?"
The owner followed his gaze, his expression turning to one of disdain. "Oh, that. It came as a bundle deal when I was buying some stock recently. Some poor bastard probably dug up a wild weed and brought it in with the dirt still on it. It's been sitting there for days; nobody wants it."
Ethan crouched back down and brushed the clover's leaves with his finger.
The faint fluctuation became even clearer.
The moment his fingertip touched them, the silver patterns on the leaves seemed to glow faintly before dimming again.
"This thing..." Ethan looked up at the owner. "Sell it to me for a gold coin. I need some greenery for my place."
The owner's eyes narrowed as he looked from Ethan to the clover and back again. "One magic stone."
"Friend, do I look like a sucker?"
The owner's expression didn't flicker. "Young man, this is no ordinary weed. Look at the patterns on these leaves; there's a hint of silver. It might be some rare spiritual plant. One magic stone is already a very fair price."
Ethan shook his head and flicked the clover's leaf again.
"Ten gold coins," Ethan said.
The owner's eyes widened. "Ten gold coins? Young man, that's a brutal lowball!"
"Brutal?" Ethan looked up with a half-smile. "How many days has this been sitting on your stall? Has anyone even asked about it? Has anyone even looked at it? If you leave it for a few more days and that soil dries out completely, the roots will die. Then it won't even be worth as much as a common weed."
The owner opened his mouth to argue but found himself speechless.
Ethan was right. The clover had been there for at least a week, and forget buying it—no one had even spared it a glance.
"Fifteen gold coins," the owner grumbled, gritting his teeth. "I can't go any lower."
"Twelve."
"Thirteen. That's the absolute minimum."
Ethan was silent for a breath before nodding. "Fine, thirteen it is."
He produced thirteen gold coins from his robes and placed them on the stall.
The owner took the coins, a satisfied smile returning to his face. "Alright, the grass is yours."
Ethan stood up and continued his walk through the trading area.
After about fifteen minutes, he stopped in front of a shop.
This shop was much larger than the previous one, with a storefront nearly five meters wide. Two bone pillars over two meters tall stood on either side of the entrance, their tops flickering with eerie green flames.
A black wooden board hung by the door: Old Buck's Wizardry Tool Shop.
Below the name was a line of smaller text: "Buying, selling, and custom-making all types of Wizardry Tools. Fair prices, honest business."
The interior was even larger than it looked from the outside. Shelves lined three of the walls, packed with various Wizardry Tools. Some glowed faintly, some had runes flowing across their surfaces, and others looked as plain as ordinary objects.
Directly facing the door was a wide stone counter. Behind it stood a burly, bald, middle-aged man.
The man looked up, his gaze sweeping over Ethan. A rough smile formed on his rugged face. "Freshman? Looking to buy something?"
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