Late at night.
The narrow alleys of East City’s East District were like a maze.
Delia tightened her dark gray cloak, the brim of her hood pulled low, her steps light.
She moved along the shadows at the base of the walls, her Spiritual Power sweeping over the alley entrance, capturing any suspicious movements nearby.
At every corner, she would pause for three seconds.
Everything was normal.
She continued forward, her fingers caressing the warm Communication Rune inside her sleeve.
Aidele had given it to her a few days ago.
"If you run into danger, just crush it."
She knew the weight of this mission. Whether the young miss could form her own core armed force depended on the success of this operation.
Relying on her Realm at the Late Stage of Crystalization, and her past experience managing their enterprises, she knew the channels for Potions better than Aidele.
Tonight, she was to retrieve the final batch of twenty Tier One Bloodline Neutralizing Potions, enough for Aidele’s second group of core members to complete their transformation.
Without these Neutralizers, the Rock Bear Potion was a suicide poison.
The backlash from the bloodline conflict was enough to make a High Level Apprentice’s bloodline collapse, causing death.
"Soon... our Power..."
She murmured to herself, her breath condensing into a white mist in the cold night.
After the seventh turn, an unremarkable three-story stone building appeared ahead.
The building’s door was shut tight, a faded potion bottle Badge carved into the wood.
This was the "Old Town Potion Shop." On the surface, it dealt in common medicinal herbs, but secretly... it was one of the few channels that still dared to do business with Aidele.
Delia stopped in the shadows of the alley entrance, her gaze sweeping over the area around the stone building.
The tiles on the opposite roof were intact, with no abnormal traces.
The second-floor window was dark, the curtains drawn tight.
In the small alley behind the building were several stacks of discarded wooden crates, covered in a thick layer of dust.
She waited for a full five minutes, confirming that nothing was out of the ordinary, before slowly walking toward the stone building.
She raised her right hand and knocked lightly on the door.
Three long, two short, one long.
The faint sound of turning gears came from within.
The door opened a crack, and a dim yellow light spilled out, illuminating the tips of her boots.
"Come in."
A raspy, elderly voice, thick with a nasal tone, came from behind the door.
Delia slipped inside, and the door closed silently behind her.
The first floor of the stone building was a warehouse piled high with medicinal herbs.
A strange smell, a mixture of dried grass, roots, and old dust, permeated the air.
A stooped old man sat behind the counter, his face a crisscrossing web of wrinkles.
He held a yellowed ledger in his hands, but his eyes were fixed on Delia.
"Where’s the payment?"
Delia took a heavy leather pouch from an inner pocket of her cloak and placed it on the counter.
She loosened the drawstring, revealing four hundred High Level Magic Stones inside—a much higher price than usual.
The old man didn’t even raise his eyes, merely tapping the Magic Stones with his gaunt fingers.
"The amount is correct."
He closed the ledger and rose, walking toward the back of the warehouse.
Delia stood her ground, her right hand never leaving the hilt of the Short Blade at her waist.
Time passed slowly.
The only sounds in the warehouse were the rustling of the old man searching for something and her own steady breathing.
After a while, the old man returned, carrying a heavy wooden box.
The box was dark brown, its surface carved with simple preservation Runes.
He pushed the box over.
"Twenty units. All freshly prepared. They’ll last for three months."
Delia opened the box’s lid.
Inside, twenty Crystal Tubes were neatly arranged, each containing a milky-white, viscous liquid.
She drew one out and held it up to her eyes.
In the light of the Crystal Wall Lamp, she could see faint silver specks occasionally appearing within the liquid.
The Energy fluctuations were stable and gentle; it was indeed high-quality.
"Inspection complete."
She closed the lid, carefully stored the wooden box in her Dimensional Ring, and turned to leave.
Suddenly, the old man spoke, his voice lowered.
"My lady."
Delia’s steps faltered, but she didn’t turn back.
"Lately... things haven’t been so peaceful around here."
The old man said slowly, his finger tracing meaningless circles on the counter.
"Several of my old channels stopped taking orders the day before yesterday."
He paused. "You... be careful."
Delia was silent for a moment, then nodded.
"Thank you."
She pulled the door open, her figure melting into the darkness outside.
The door closed behind her, sealing the old man’s sigh within.
The alley seemed quieter than when she had arrived; even the distant clamor of the taverns had vanished.
Delia hurried along the base of the wall, already sensing that something was wrong.
It was the intuitive warning of danger that a Level Two Wizard possessed.
She stopped at an alley entrance.
There was supposed to be an old streetlamp there, its lampshade half-broken, its light dim yellow but steady.
But now... the light was out.
It was as if someone had wrapped the entire lampshade in a thick, black cloth.
Delia’s right hand tightened on her Short Blade.
Her left hand slipped silently into her tunic, her fingertips touching the warm Communication Rune.
Just then, a whizzing sound tore through the air from above—not one, but seven!
Seven dark purple Energy Arrows shot down from the rooftops on both sides, their shafts wreathed in twisted Curse Runes.
Before the arrows even arrived, a cold, decaying aura washed over her.
Delia’s pupils contracted as she instinctively threw herself backward.
Her waist bent until she was almost parallel with the ground, the seven arrows grazing past her nose, chest, and stomach.
The arrows slammed into the ground where she had just been standing with a corrosive SIZZLE. The Stone Slabs were instantly eaten away, leaving seven fist-sized pits with black smoke hissing from their edges.
"Curse Witchcraft!"
Delia’s core tensed, and she sprang up like a coil.
She kicked off the wall with both feet, drifting three meters back before landing steadily.
The Short Blade was unsheathed, its edge glinting with an icy blue light in the darkness.
She raised her head to look at the rooftops, where seven dark figures were slowly rising to their feet.
They were all clad in black combat gear, their faces hidden by masks, revealing only pairs of ice-cold eyes.