Faust was sitting with his legs crossed and with his eyes closed but opened them the moment Sylver had materialized.
Sylver smiled underneath the bandages on his face as he felt a very faint uncomfortable feeling as Faust’s Ki washed over him. Faust on the other hand looked confused.
“You might want to be careful with that. It doesn’t feel quite like a demonic technique, but someone less observant might perceive it as such,” Faust said, as Sylver shrugged his shoulders, and gestured towards the boxes sitting in the corner.
A few of them floated into the air and settled down near Sylver’s feet.
“I’m a witch. This is what witch magic feels like,” Sylver said but pulled the bear soul armor in a bit, so it was just underneath his skin. “Try now,” Sylver asked.
This time it felt like someone dragged burning hot sandpaper over his skin, but the feeling didn’t permeate as deeply as it usually did. It stopped exactly where Sylver had his layer of soul armor.
“It still doesn’t feel right. But better than before. Which sect are you going to first?” Faust asked as Sylver summoned his list into his hand.
“The Green Rabbit sect. They want 4 [9 Color Viper] fangs, 10 [Bloat Worm] tongues, and 2 sets of [Barnaberry Roach] wings,” Sylver read out, as Faust nodded along.
“They’re making 3rd grade poison resistance potions...” Faust said as Sylver disappeared the list away into his [Bound Bones] storage.
“On that note, I need someone to come with me,” Sylver said, as he moved the boxes in the corner around so they took up less space, and made the ones near him float into a compact cube.
“Why?” Faust asked.
“Because I have no concept of value. Red jade, green jade, how much an ingredient is worth, I have no idea. What if they haggle with me? Is 100 grams of red jade the same as 10 grams of green jade? What if the ingredient I brought really was harvested incorrectly, what if-”
“Just so you’re aware, a single 10-gram red jade is worth more than two 5-gram red jades… You make a good point, wait here, I’ll find someone,” Faust said, as Sylver followed him out the door.
***
With none of them having names, or rather, with all of them refusing to use their names, Sylver remembered the boy’s face by the scar on his forehead.
The road to the Green Rabbit sect was quite long, especially since Sylver couldn’t just run along the roofs, and had to walk on the main road, like a normal person. He might have been able to do it while in [Fog Form], but he had the boy with the scarred forehead with him, not to mention several floating boxes that he couldn’t hold while in the form of fog.
Surprisingly enough, not that many people were staring at Sylver, now that his face was bandaged up, and he walked with the gait of an old man. More of them were staring at the young boy next to him, but they were just looking, none of them actually did anything.
“How’s Faust treating you?” Sylver asked, and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder to add to his old man persona.
He was being chaperoned, like some kind of decrepit white-bearded grandfather. The boy didn’t flinch from the touch, which confused Sylver, and then pissed him off that he got confused at someone not being terrified of him. Thankfully the anger disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced.
“He made my brother walk, sir. I would gladly put down my life down for that man,” the boy said.
Sylver felt a little uncomfortable, but on the other hand, this was exactly what he wanted. Buying loyalty never worked out well, but earning it through help and healing is a different story.
Even if it was a bit worrisome that Sylver could feel it in the boy’s soul he was 100% serious. Children shouldn’t be this certain of anything, even if it would benefit him to have people blindly follow his orders. He preferred having his personnel capable of thinking for themselves.
Sylver was as far from perfect as anyone could get. Even with his years of experience, he still made mistakes that could cost people their lives. The idea of being surrounded by devoted yes-men disgusted him. He had seen too many leaders end up dead because their advisors were too afraid, or too trusting, to point out a mistake.
If Lola thought Sylver was doing something wrong, he had no doubt in his mind she would tell him. Same for Ria, Chrys, Bruno, and Faust. They might believe that Sylver knew better than them, but they would still voice their concerns, just in case.
The rest of the conversation was largely the same. The boy wasn’t afraid of Sylver, not exactly, but it felt like talking to one of the Ibis’ newest apprentices, that still saw him as something out of a fairytale. Once they got past the whole “the Silver Lich is real” part, they warmed up to him, but it took a while.
In this case, it wasn’t that the boy saw Sylver as some kind of legendary figure, but he saw Faust the cultivator as a legendary figure, and because Faust spoke about Sylver as if he was a legendary figure, the boy treated him the way someone would treat a noble from a faraway country.
You weren’t sure how important they were, but you were as polite to them as you would be to a local duke, just in case.
They passed through the various sect-owned areas unmolested, although Sylver did get a slight headache from the sheer number of guards that tried to peak at his status.
[A skill similar to [Appraisal] has been successfully blocked!]
Sylver turned his bandage-covered face towards the source of the incredibly annoying message and stared at the suddenly nervous guard. At the boy’s request, Sylver refrained from using [Arcane Insight] on the bastard and just kept walking.
He learned a few other things from the boy as they walked. Like the fact that people challenging one another to duels was incredibly common. Sylver had expected this, given how much emphasis cultivators and places like this placed on “honor,” but what he didn’t expect was that killing someone of a higher standing was really bad.
Your whole sect being wiped out in revenge levels of bad. Meaning that if some uppity cunt that had a higher standing than Sylver, a foreign witch that belonged to a sect that couldn’t even afford to have a name, challenged him to a duel, he wasn’t supposed to kill them, even if they were allowed to kill him.
Permanently crippling your opponent was also off the table, but that one had a bit of nuance that the boy couldn’t explain in a way Sylver could understand. The short answer was: don’t.
***
The Green Rabbit sect was very easy to spot; it was the sect surrounded by a giant stone wall that had green rabbits painted on it. If the tracker, and Ria’s map, were to be believed Edmund was somewhere near the northeast corner.
Outside the entrance, there were two large bright green rabbit statues, underneath which stood two armed guards, that were staring Sylver and the boy down as they walked towards them.
“We have [9 Color Viper] fangs, [Bloat Worm] tongues, and [Barnaberry Roach] wings to sell,” the boy said to the guard on the left, while Sylver kept his head lowered as if he really was blind.
[A skill similar to [Appraisal] has been successfully blocked!]
[A skill similar to [Appraisal] has been successfully blocked!]
The headache-inducing notifications were quickly followed by what felt like having someone pat you down, and tightly squeeze your unmentionables while wearing itchy woolen gloves. Sylver actually had to straighten his back from how uncomfortable he felt, if it wasn’t for his mana immediately wiping their Ki away, he would have had to start scratching himself.
The two guards seemed to come to some sort of wordless decision, and both gestured for Sylver and the boy to enter.
It was another reason Sylver wanted someone with him, even if they were considered “thieves,” at least they were somewhat known. It would have been better to bring Xalibur along, but for reasons Faust was yet to learn, Xalibur wasn’t allowed inside any sect.
The inside of the Green Rabbit sect was surprisingly pleasant. Instead of grass, they had what seemed to be a wild herb garden. Amidst the various colored leaves, small white rabbits either slept, or were in the middle of chewing on the leaves, and were completely unconcerned with the two men walking mere inches away from them.
A bald man with the symbol of the Green Rabbit sect tattooed onto his forehead coldly nodded for Sylver and the boy to follow him. He was dressed in a garment that was closer to the robe Sylver normally wore, than the kind Faust or the boy wore, except unlike Sylver’s, the bald man’s robe wasn’t practical.
There weren’t any slits on the sides for running, the sleeves were too long to hold a weapon, or cast magic, the front was partitioned at an angle, as opposed to down the middle, and the man had a very thick belt around his stomach to keep the robe closed, which made it impossible to crouch.
As they walked through the rabbit-infested herb garden, Sylver saw that this man wasn’t alone. Everywhere he looked he saw similarly dressed men talking to one another, watering the herbs, refilling a large wooden bowl around which the rabbits were patiently gathered, and a few of the younger ones were picking up rabbit shit from the stone-paved roads.
Sylver had hoped they were coincidentally going to meet with their buyer in the northeast section of the sect, but as usual, nothing was so convenient. They entered from the west and were going south. In terms of size, the area encompassed by the stone wall was big enough to be called a village, by Eira’s standards.
Sylver couldn’t say how many people lived here, but it was definitely above 100. As for the rabbits, this was more rabbits than Sylver had ever seen in one place.
More alive rabbits than Sylver had ever seen in one place.
People throw the words “mountain of corpses” around without any idea of just how many corpses are needed to form a mountain, especially, when the corpses belong to very small rabbits. Granted, there were some hares in there as well, but even with that in mind, it was still an insane amount.
Aside from that specific mountain, there was also that island Sylver ended up on, so this was the first time he had seen this many rabbits, that were in a relatively normal environment.
The bald man gestured for Sylver and the boy to enter a large wooden building that had a very large golden symbol painted near the entrance.
The ceiling inside was very high, it was taller than the building Faust’s sect lived in, and the walls were covered with what seemed to be portraits of important people. Sylver guessed they were important, on account of the fact that they had a very shiny piece of gold jewelry somewhere on their head, either an earring, nose piercing, eyebrow piercing, a gold tooth, or a fake golden eye.
At the end of the long room, there was a man dressed in a bathrobe similar to Faust’s, except made out of a very shiny silvery thread. The man appeared to be a human somewhere in his late 40s or 50s, but the bone structure suggested that he was closer to 100 years in age.
The man spoke slowly, with a theatrical over-enunciation that sounded like he was just about to yawn.
“I Am The Head Of Commerce For The Green Rabbit Sect! What Business Does A Witch And A Thief Have With Me?” the man asked.
As the boy started to explain, Sylver gestured with his hand and made the boxes with the appropriate items float to the floor. The head of commerce was sitting on a large red pillow, about 10 steps away from Sylver and the boy. He was looking down on them from his tall pillow, but because of Sylver’s height, just barely.
“We have 7 [9 Color Viper] fangs, 4 [Bloat Worm] tongues, and 10 sets of [Barnaberry Roach] wings,” the boy explained, as Sylver used his magic to open the box with the corresponding items.
The man wearing the silver bathrobe looked at the 3 boxes as if they were filled with dogshit, and his eyes wandered over to the boxes floating behind Sylver, and lastly settled on Sylver himself.
With a wry smile, the man reached into his sleeve and produced a rolled-up sheet of paper. The man took his time unrolling the paper, enough so that Sylver began to worry he was genuinely mentally retarded, but after about 30 seconds, the head of commerce finished unrolling a single letter-sized piece of paper.
Sylver felt a wave of Ki wash over him, and had no choice but to puff up his bear soul armor to stop the fucker from actually burning the skin around his face. The man’s smile manifested into a full grin, as he pulled his Ki back to himself.
There was something perverted about his smile. Like he was being coy with them.
“The Blue Mongoose Sect Has Offered 5 Grams Of Blue Jade For Your Head Witch,” the head of commerce said.
Sylver didn’t bother turning around, because even with his hood up, he could see the 6 armed guards that had funneled into the building and were now blocking the only exit.
The head of commerce turned the piece of paper around, and there was a portrait of a very pale face, with matching white hair, and admittedly, actually did look a lot like Sylver. The locals here all had round faces, Faust looked right at home, whereas Sylver looked like an elf among humans.
Especially now that his face resembled his old Silver Lich face. It was a different drawing from the one Sylver had found among the people he killed at the swamp.
“Is that a lot?” Sylver whispered to the boy standing near him.
“A single gram of blue jade is enough to increase a level 100 cultivator’s level by 9 levels,” the boy whispered back.
“Alright, thank you,” Sylver whispered back, as he lifted his head and looked at the smug head of commerce.
The head of commerce just smiled at Sylver, as Sylver saw another person enter the building. It was a young man, in his early 20s, dressed in a bright green bathrobe, with a thin red belt wrapped around his waist.
“I challenge you to a duel WITCH!” the young man screamed, as Sylver turned around, and used [Arcane Insight].
[Human – Way Of The Red Rabbit – 192]
[HP: 140,690 – 100%]
[MP: 0 – 0%]
[Stamina: 82,470 – 99%]
[Corpse – Common]
[Soul – Petty]
Sylver leaned near the boy next to him and whispered in his ear.
“What happens if I refuse?” Sylver asked.
“Given that he is asking to duel over your bounty, you will have to agree to owe him said bounty,” the boy quietly explained.
“So any wanker can walk up to me and bother me for a duel because there’s a bounty on my head?” Sylver asked, and heard a stifled gasp from one of the six guards near the door.
“Yes,” the boy answered, as the man who had challenged Sylver started to turn a light shade of pink.
“What happens if I refuse to duel, and refuse to owe him my bounty?” Sylver asked, and heard a gasp behind him, from the head of commerce.
“It would bring great shame to our sect. And we would be forced to pay 5 times the amount you would have owed,” the boy explained.
“So if I don’t want to duel that guy, I have to either pay him 5 grams of blue jade or in the event I don’t, my sect will have to pay his sect 25 grams of blue jade? What happens if we don’t pay?” Sylver asked, and this time even the boy gasped a little.
He hid it quite well, but Sylver’s hand was on his shoulder, and he felt his soul gasp.
“I don’t know. I imagine we would collectively have to forfeit our lives, but I cannot say for certain,” the boy explained, as Sylver nodded along.
As stupid as this sounded, it was about right for a place with this much emphasis on “honor.”
“Enough talk! Do you accept my challenge or not!” the man with the red belt shouted.
Sylver dismissively waved his hand at him.
“Wait a bit lad, I’m trying to figure things out here,” Sylver said, and used his old man voice.
“How does a duel work?” Sylver asked the boy next to him.
“The person challenged is the one who chooses the weapon,” the boy whispered, and then proceeded to outline an extremely confusing explanation regarding how a duel can end.
It wasn’t “to the death,” as Sylver had hoped.
Apparently, the party being challenged had to either surrender, or in the event the challenged party is winning, it could offer the challenger to surrender, but the challenger couldn’t surrender without the challenged party first making the offer.
So for Sylver to win, he would have to ask the man if he wished to surrender, and the man would then have to accept. And if Sylver was to lose, given that he is a witch part of a low standing sect, he would likely be beheaded.
It wasn’t that far off from the rules in the Garden’s arena.
“In hindsight, I should have asked Faust about all of this. But short version, if I accept the duel, and he admits defeat, I win, right?” Sylver asked, as the guards, the man who had challenged him, and the head of commerce, all collectively laughed. It wasn’t a genuine laugh, and a couple of the guards actually sounded quite nervous.
“Yes,” the boy answered.
Sylver lightly patted him on the shoulder, as he lifted his head to look at the man who had challenged him.
“I’d like to fight someone of a higher level,” Sylver said.
“You Are Below Level 200 Witch! It Would Be The Height Of Dishonor For A Green Tier Warrior To Face A Red Tier Warrior In Combat!” the head of commerce shouted.
Sylver turned to face him and was beyond glad for the bandages hiding his facial expression.
“So no one above level 200 will ever try to challenge me?” Sylver asked the shocked head of commerce.
The man looked so enraged that Sylver could count the veins sticking out on his forehead.
“No,” the boy answered before the head of commerce died from an anger-induced stroke.
“What would happen if I were to say my weapon of choice is magic?” Sylver asked the boy.
“In the case of a witch being challenged the weapon of choice is always considered to be magic, and therefore the challenger is allowed to use whatever weapon they want,” the boy explained, as Sylver nodded along.
If Sylver didn’t know any better, he would have thought this place was biased against witches.
“Are you going to buy from us if I defeat your boy?” Sylver asked the head of commerce.
“Your Duel Is With Him, Not Myself!” the head of commerce said.
So, no, if you win, I’m not buying your shit. Sylver thought to himself.
The smart thing to do would be to fake his death and allow the guy who challenged him to decapitate him, and bring his head to the Blue Mongoose sect. The boy would sell the head of commerce Sylver’s ingredients, and after the transaction was complete, Sylver would miraculously come back to life.
Except with all the talk of honor, he doubted it would work out well in the long run.
So Sylver did what he tried to do back in the Garden’s arena.
“Alright lad, I accept your challenge!” Sylver shouted at the red belt warrior.
The boy moved off to the side along with Sylver’s boxes, as the red-belted warrior assumed a fighting stance.
“My name is Izan Lepus. I follow the way of the red rabbit, and I will sever your head with a single kick!” the attacker, Izan, said.
“My name is Sylver Sezari. I follow the way of the screaming skull, and I’m going to hold you down and tear your face off!” Sylver shouted back and could feel the oddly festive tone of the room turn ice cold.
The only one who didn’t take Sylver seriously was Izan. If anything, he seemed overjoyed at hearing Sylver sound like the sick fuck he thought him to be.
In hindsight, Sylver wondered just how much of the rumors regarding insane witches, necromancers, and anyone using dark magic, came from people just like him, playing up the deranged lunatic persona, to make people leave them the fuck alone.
Probably a lot, Sylver guessed.
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Faust was sitting with his legs crossed and with his eyes closed but opened them the moment Sylver had materialized.
Sylver smiled underneath the bandages on his face as he felt a very faint uncomfortable feeling as Faust’s Ki washed over him. Faust on the other hand looked confused.
“You might want to be careful with that. It doesn’t feel quite like a demonic technique, but someone less observant might perceive it as such,” Faust said, as Sylver shrugged his shoulders, and gestured towards the boxes sitting in the corner.
A few of them floated into the air and settled down near Sylver’s feet.
“I’m a witch. This is what witch magic feels like,” Sylver said but pulled the bear soul armor in a bit, so it was just underneath his skin. “Try now,” Sylver asked.
This time it felt like someone dragged burning hot sandpaper over his skin, but the feeling didn’t permeate as deeply as it usually did. It stopped exactly where Sylver had his layer of soul armor.
“It still doesn’t feel right. But better than before. Which sect are you going to first?” Faust asked as Sylver summoned his list into his hand.
“The Green Rabbit sect. They want 4 [9 Color Viper] fangs, 10 [Bloat Worm] tongues, and 2 sets of [Barnaberry Roach] wings,” Sylver read out, as Faust nodded along.
“They’re making 3rd grade poison resistance potions...” Faust said as Sylver disappeared the list away into his [Bound Bones] storage.
“On that note, I need someone to come with me,” Sylver said, as he moved the boxes in the corner around so they took up less space, and made the ones near him float into a compact cube.
“Why?” Faust asked.
“Because I have no concept of value. Red jade, green jade, how much an ingredient is worth, I have no idea. What if they haggle with me? Is 100 grams of red jade the same as 10 grams of green jade? What if the ingredient I brought really was harvested incorrectly, what if-”
“Just so you’re aware, a single 10-gram red jade is worth more than two 5-gram red jades… You make a good point, wait here, I’ll find someone,” Faust said, as Sylver followed him out the door.
***
With none of them having names, or rather, with all of them refusing to use their names, Sylver remembered the boy’s face by the scar on his forehead.
The road to the Green Rabbit sect was quite long, especially since Sylver couldn’t just run along the roofs, and had to walk on the main road, like a normal person. He might have been able to do it while in [Fog Form], but he had the boy with the scarred forehead with him, not to mention several floating boxes that he couldn’t hold while in the form of fog.
Surprisingly enough, not that many people were staring at Sylver, now that his face was bandaged up, and he walked with the gait of an old man. More of them were staring at the young boy next to him, but they were just looking, none of them actually did anything.
“How’s Faust treating you?” Sylver asked, and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder to add to his old man persona.
He was being chaperoned, like some kind of decrepit white-bearded grandfather. The boy didn’t flinch from the touch, which confused Sylver, and then pissed him off that he got confused at someone not being terrified of him. Thankfully the anger disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced.
“He made my brother walk, sir. I would gladly put down my life down for that man,” the boy said.
Sylver felt a little uncomfortable, but on the other hand, this was exactly what he wanted. Buying loyalty never worked out well, but earning it through help and healing is a different story.
Even if it was a bit worrisome that Sylver could feel it in the boy’s soul he was 100% serious. Children shouldn’t be this certain of anything, even if it would benefit him to have people blindly follow his orders. He preferred having his personnel capable of thinking for themselves.
Sylver was as far from perfect as anyone could get. Even with his years of experience, he still made mistakes that could cost people their lives. The idea of being surrounded by devoted yes-men disgusted him. He had seen too many leaders end up dead because their advisors were too afraid, or too trusting, to point out a mistake.
If Lola thought Sylver was doing something wrong, he had no doubt in his mind she would tell him. Same for Ria, Chrys, Bruno, and Faust. They might believe that Sylver knew better than them, but they would still voice their concerns, just in case.
The rest of the conversation was largely the same. The boy wasn’t afraid of Sylver, not exactly, but it felt like talking to one of the Ibis’ newest apprentices, that still saw him as something out of a fairytale. Once they got past the whole “the Silver Lich is real” part, they warmed up to him, but it took a while.
In this case, it wasn’t that the boy saw Sylver as some kind of legendary figure, but he saw Faust the cultivator as a legendary figure, and because Faust spoke about Sylver as if he was a legendary figure, the boy treated him the way someone would treat a noble from a faraway country.
You weren’t sure how important they were, but you were as polite to them as you would be to a local duke, just in case.
They passed through the various sect-owned areas unmolested, although Sylver did get a slight headache from the sheer number of guards that tried to peak at his status.
[A skill similar to [Appraisal] has been successfully blocked!]
Sylver turned his bandage-covered face towards the source of the incredibly annoying message and stared at the suddenly nervous guard. At the boy’s request, Sylver refrained from using [Arcane Insight] on the bastard and just kept walking.
He learned a few other things from the boy as they walked. Like the fact that people challenging one another to duels was incredibly common. Sylver had expected this, given how much emphasis cultivators and places like this placed on “honor,” but what he didn’t expect was that killing someone of a higher standing was really bad.
Your whole sect being wiped out in revenge levels of bad. Meaning that if some uppity cunt that had a higher standing than Sylver, a foreign witch that belonged to a sect that couldn’t even afford to have a name, challenged him to a duel, he wasn’t supposed to kill them, even if they were allowed to kill him.
Permanently crippling your opponent was also off the table, but that one had a bit of nuance that the boy couldn’t explain in a way Sylver could understand. The short answer was: don’t.
***
The Green Rabbit sect was very easy to spot; it was the sect surrounded by a giant stone wall that had green rabbits painted on it. If the tracker, and Ria’s map, were to be believed Edmund was somewhere near the northeast corner.
Outside the entrance, there were two large bright green rabbit statues, underneath which stood two armed guards, that were staring Sylver and the boy down as they walked towards them.
“We have [9 Color Viper] fangs, [Bloat Worm] tongues, and [Barnaberry Roach] wings to sell,” the boy said to the guard on the left, while Sylver kept his head lowered as if he really was blind.
[A skill similar to [Appraisal] has been successfully blocked!]
[A skill similar to [Appraisal] has been successfully blocked!]
The headache-inducing notifications were quickly followed by what felt like having someone pat you down, and tightly squeeze your unmentionables while wearing itchy woolen gloves. Sylver actually had to straighten his back from how uncomfortable he felt, if it wasn’t for his mana immediately wiping their Ki away, he would have had to start scratching himself.
The two guards seemed to come to some sort of wordless decision, and both gestured for Sylver and the boy to enter.
It was another reason Sylver wanted someone with him, even if they were considered “thieves,” at least they were somewhat known. It would have been better to bring Xalibur along, but for reasons Faust was yet to learn, Xalibur wasn’t allowed inside any sect.
The inside of the Green Rabbit sect was surprisingly pleasant. Instead of grass, they had what seemed to be a wild herb garden. Amidst the various colored leaves, small white rabbits either slept, or were in the middle of chewing on the leaves, and were completely unconcerned with the two men walking mere inches away from them.
A bald man with the symbol of the Green Rabbit sect tattooed onto his forehead coldly nodded for Sylver and the boy to follow him. He was dressed in a garment that was closer to the robe Sylver normally wore, than the kind Faust or the boy wore, except unlike Sylver’s, the bald man’s robe wasn’t practical.
There weren’t any slits on the sides for running, the sleeves were too long to hold a weapon, or cast magic, the front was partitioned at an angle, as opposed to down the middle, and the man had a very thick belt around his stomach to keep the robe closed, which made it impossible to crouch.
As they walked through the rabbit-infested herb garden, Sylver saw that this man wasn’t alone. Everywhere he looked he saw similarly dressed men talking to one another, watering the herbs, refilling a large wooden bowl around which the rabbits were patiently gathered, and a few of the younger ones were picking up rabbit shit from the stone-paved roads.
Sylver had hoped they were coincidentally going to meet with their buyer in the northeast section of the sect, but as usual, nothing was so convenient. They entered from the west and were going south. In terms of size, the area encompassed by the stone wall was big enough to be called a village, by Eira’s standards.
Sylver couldn’t say how many people lived here, but it was definitely above 100. As for the rabbits, this was more rabbits than Sylver had ever seen in one place.
More alive rabbits than Sylver had ever seen in one place.
People throw the words “mountain of corpses” around without any idea of just how many corpses are needed to form a mountain, especially, when the corpses belong to very small rabbits. Granted, there were some hares in there as well, but even with that in mind, it was still an insane amount.
Aside from that specific mountain, there was also that island Sylver ended up on, so this was the first time he had seen this many rabbits, that were in a relatively normal environment.
The bald man gestured for Sylver and the boy to enter a large wooden building that had a very large golden symbol painted near the entrance.
The ceiling inside was very high, it was taller than the building Faust’s sect lived in, and the walls were covered with what seemed to be portraits of important people. Sylver guessed they were important, on account of the fact that they had a very shiny piece of gold jewelry somewhere on their head, either an earring, nose piercing, eyebrow piercing, a gold tooth, or a fake golden eye.
At the end of the long room, there was a man dressed in a bathrobe similar to Faust’s, except made out of a very shiny silvery thread. The man appeared to be a human somewhere in his late 40s or 50s, but the bone structure suggested that he was closer to 100 years in age.
The man spoke slowly, with a theatrical over-enunciation that sounded like he was just about to yawn.
“I Am The Head Of Commerce For The Green Rabbit Sect! What Business Does A Witch And A Thief Have With Me?” the man asked.
As the boy started to explain, Sylver gestured with his hand and made the boxes with the appropriate items float to the floor. The head of commerce was sitting on a large red pillow, about 10 steps away from Sylver and the boy. He was looking down on them from his tall pillow, but because of Sylver’s height, just barely.
“We have 7 [9 Color Viper] fangs, 4 [Bloat Worm] tongues, and 10 sets of [Barnaberry Roach] wings,” the boy explained, as Sylver used his magic to open the box with the corresponding items.
The man wearing the silver bathrobe looked at the 3 boxes as if they were filled with dogshit, and his eyes wandered over to the boxes floating behind Sylver, and lastly settled on Sylver himself.
With a wry smile, the man reached into his sleeve and produced a rolled-up sheet of paper. The man took his time unrolling the paper, enough so that Sylver began to worry he was genuinely mentally retarded, but after about 30 seconds, the head of commerce finished unrolling a single letter-sized piece of paper.
Sylver felt a wave of Ki wash over him, and had no choice but to puff up his bear soul armor to stop the fucker from actually burning the skin around his face. The man’s smile manifested into a full grin, as he pulled his Ki back to himself.
There was something perverted about his smile. Like he was being coy with them.
“The Blue Mongoose Sect Has Offered 5 Grams Of Blue Jade For Your Head Witch,” the head of commerce said.
Sylver didn’t bother turning around, because even with his hood up, he could see the 6 armed guards that had funneled into the building and were now blocking the only exit.
The head of commerce turned the piece of paper around, and there was a portrait of a very pale face, with matching white hair, and admittedly, actually did look a lot like Sylver. The locals here all had round faces, Faust looked right at home, whereas Sylver looked like an elf among humans.
Especially now that his face resembled his old Silver Lich face. It was a different drawing from the one Sylver had found among the people he killed at the swamp.
“Is that a lot?” Sylver whispered to the boy standing near him.
“A single gram of blue jade is enough to increase a level 100 cultivator’s level by 9 levels,” the boy whispered back.
“Alright, thank you,” Sylver whispered back, as he lifted his head and looked at the smug head of commerce.
The head of commerce just smiled at Sylver, as Sylver saw another person enter the building. It was a young man, in his early 20s, dressed in a bright green bathrobe, with a thin red belt wrapped around his waist.
“I challenge you to a duel WITCH!” the young man screamed, as Sylver turned around, and used [Arcane Insight].
[Human – Way Of The Red Rabbit – 192]
[HP: 140,690 – 100%]
[MP: 0 – 0%]
[Stamina: 82,470 – 99%]
[Corpse – Common]
[Soul – Petty]
Sylver leaned near the boy next to him and whispered in his ear.
“What happens if I refuse?” Sylver asked.
“Given that he is asking to duel over your bounty, you will have to agree to owe him said bounty,” the boy quietly explained.
“So any wanker can walk up to me and bother me for a duel because there’s a bounty on my head?” Sylver asked, and heard a stifled gasp from one of the six guards near the door.
“Yes,” the boy answered, as the man who had challenged Sylver started to turn a light shade of pink.
“What happens if I refuse to duel, and refuse to owe him my bounty?” Sylver asked, and heard a gasp behind him, from the head of commerce.
“It would bring great shame to our sect. And we would be forced to pay 5 times the amount you would have owed,” the boy explained.
“So if I don’t want to duel that guy, I have to either pay him 5 grams of blue jade or in the event I don’t, my sect will have to pay his sect 25 grams of blue jade? What happens if we don’t pay?” Sylver asked, and this time even the boy gasped a little.
He hid it quite well, but Sylver’s hand was on his shoulder, and he felt his soul gasp.
“I don’t know. I imagine we would collectively have to forfeit our lives, but I cannot say for certain,” the boy explained, as Sylver nodded along.
As stupid as this sounded, it was about right for a place with this much emphasis on “honor.”
“Enough talk! Do you accept my challenge or not!” the man with the red belt shouted.
Sylver dismissively waved his hand at him.
“Wait a bit lad, I’m trying to figure things out here,” Sylver said, and used his old man voice.
“How does a duel work?” Sylver asked the boy next to him.
“The person challenged is the one who chooses the weapon,” the boy whispered, and then proceeded to outline an extremely confusing explanation regarding how a duel can end.
It wasn’t “to the death,” as Sylver had hoped.
Apparently, the party being challenged had to either surrender, or in the event the challenged party is winning, it could offer the challenger to surrender, but the challenger couldn’t surrender without the challenged party first making the offer.
So for Sylver to win, he would have to ask the man if he wished to surrender, and the man would then have to accept. And if Sylver was to lose, given that he is a witch part of a low standing sect, he would likely be beheaded.
It wasn’t that far off from the rules in the Garden’s arena.
“In hindsight, I should have asked Faust about all of this. But short version, if I accept the duel, and he admits defeat, I win, right?” Sylver asked, as the guards, the man who had challenged him, and the head of commerce, all collectively laughed. It wasn’t a genuine laugh, and a couple of the guards actually sounded quite nervous.
“Yes,” the boy answered.
Sylver lightly patted him on the shoulder, as he lifted his head to look at the man who had challenged him.
“I’d like to fight someone of a higher level,” Sylver said.
“You Are Below Level 200 Witch! It Would Be The Height Of Dishonor For A Green Tier Warrior To Face A Red Tier Warrior In Combat!” the head of commerce shouted.
Sylver turned to face him and was beyond glad for the bandages hiding his facial expression.
“So no one above level 200 will ever try to challenge me?” Sylver asked the shocked head of commerce.
The man looked so enraged that Sylver could count the veins sticking out on his forehead.
“No,” the boy answered before the head of commerce died from an anger-induced stroke.
“What would happen if I were to say my weapon of choice is magic?” Sylver asked the boy.
“In the case of a witch being challenged the weapon of choice is always considered to be magic, and therefore the challenger is allowed to use whatever weapon they want,” the boy explained, as Sylver nodded along.
If Sylver didn’t know any better, he would have thought this place was biased against witches.
“Are you going to buy from us if I defeat your boy?” Sylver asked the head of commerce.
“Your Duel Is With Him, Not Myself!” the head of commerce said.
So, no, if you win, I’m not buying your shit. Sylver thought to himself.
The smart thing to do would be to fake his death and allow the guy who challenged him to decapitate him, and bring his head to the Blue Mongoose sect. The boy would sell the head of commerce Sylver’s ingredients, and after the transaction was complete, Sylver would miraculously come back to life.
Except with all the talk of honor, he doubted it would work out well in the long run.
So Sylver did what he tried to do back in the Garden’s arena.
“Alright lad, I accept your challenge!” Sylver shouted at the red belt warrior.
The boy moved off to the side along with Sylver’s boxes, as the red-belted warrior assumed a fighting stance.
“My name is Izan Lepus. I follow the way of the red rabbit, and I will sever your head with a single kick!” the attacker, Izan, said.
“My name is Sylver Sezari. I follow the way of the screaming skull, and I’m going to hold you down and tear your face off!” Sylver shouted back and could feel the oddly festive tone of the room turn ice cold.
The only one who didn’t take Sylver seriously was Izan. If anything, he seemed overjoyed at hearing Sylver sound like the sick fuck he thought him to be.
In hindsight, Sylver wondered just how much of the rumors regarding insane witches, necromancers, and anyone using dark magic, came from people just like him, playing up the deranged lunatic persona, to make people leave them the fuck alone.
Probably a lot, Sylver guessed.
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