Swamp Lord with an Intelligence System-Chapter 341 - 161: Silver Mask, Slave Purchase
The vendor draped in a black cloak, their silver hair cascading down their back.
As Lear approached, the vendor slowly lifted their head.
"What does the guest require?"
The voice was hoarse, utterly hollow, devoid of any discernible information, making age, gender, or even race undetectable.
If not for the intelligence suggesting he was a man, it would be impossible to know.
Without dwelling on it, Lear’s gaze swept around, resting on the goods.
Only seven items were for sale.
Three fist-sized stones, black as ink.
Three eggs, pure white like jade, half the size of a skull, plus a silver mask with a substantial texture.
Black Gold Ore
Level: 4 Stars
Traits: Can be refined into black gold, significantly enhancing the effect of inscriptions
...
White Jade Swan Egg
Level: 4 Stars
Traits: Can hatch into a 4-star potential White Jade Swan.
...
Silver Mask
Level: Special
Traits: The key to some Ancient Ruins.
Good heavens!!
All these treasures, 4-stars?!
Lear cast a deep glance at the silver-haired man obscured by the covering.
The Black Market is indeed fierce; one never knows what it hides inside.
He reined in the unconscious arrogance that had risen with his increasing strength, and his gaze became clear.
"These goods are quite impressive, what are the prices?"
"The Black Gold Ore, 5000 Gold Coins apiece, White Jade Swan Egg, 6000 Gold Coins each."
"As for this mask... it’s free."
Lear’s heart tightened, and he feigned a look of interest.
"Why do the other treasures sell at high prices, yet the mask is free?"
"The mask was dug up by me from a ten-thousand-person pit, entwined by the Power of Curse. If you can dispel the Power of Curse from the mask, I’ll give it to you for free."
As he spoke, he produced a broken longsword, gently touching the fractured surface.
"The mask contaminated this sword... clear its power, and the sword can be restored."
"Don’t you think this mask is more valuable than the sword?"
"Is that so? The materials of the mask are not advanced, but the inscriptions on it are special... It seems to be a guide to open some forbidden zone or relic."
"I have no interest in exploring unknown dangers."
"This broken sword, when intact, would at least be a 5-star treasure!"
"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush."
"Even the best treasure must be usable to be truly valuable!"
"Otherwise, it rots in hand no different than garbage in the sewer."
Lear couldn’t help but praise when he heard this, recognizing that this guy’s understanding was precise.
As he spoke, his tone became obscure.
"However, those who have attempted the Power of Curse number no less than ten... all ended up ensnared by the curse, their fates uncertain."
"If the guest isn’t absolutely certain, I wouldn’t advise trying."
Lear squinted slightly.
This wasn’t a lie?!
He instinctively opened the other party’s Attribute Panel.
But it was all question marks, devoid of any intelligence.
Evidently, some treasure masked his presence.
Yet he showed no hesitation.
"I’ll take it..."
With those low words, he gently flicked his cloak.
The night enveloped, instantly shrouding the platform in a layer of mist.
The silver-haired man started, instinctively reaching up, only to encounter emptiness.
Looking up, he saw Lear slowly putting the silver mask on his face.
Instantly, the silver mask seemed to come alive, a black, smiling face with curved eyes appeared.
It gave an eerie and sinister feeling.
Surprised, just as he was about to speak, he sensed the Power of Curse dissipating at an exaggerated speed.
Within just a few breaths, the mutation vanished without a trace.
The mist over the table also dissipated at this moment.
Not a single piece of ore or egg was missing.
The evil energy entwining the broken sword in his hand was entirely purged.
Before he could collect himself, he saw the mysterious figure, whose face couldn’t be discerned, turn and leave.
"Payment settled, until next time."
Watching the departing figure, the silver-haired man’s body trembled, wanting to say something before finally closing his mouth.
He looked down at the broken sword in his hand, speechless for a long time.
Lorand City is indeed like the Sea of Abyss, hiding countless terrifying existences.
The Power of Curse that even a Level 19 Mage couldn’t handle... was dispelled in mere breaths!
Terrifying!!
Could this be an existence above Extraordinary?
Raising his head, he tried deeply to remember the silhouette of Lear.
...
Lear hadn’t expected to acquire what he wanted in such a manner.
Removing the mask from his face, he couldn’t help but smile.
The key to the Ancient Ruins in the Bloody Arena—the silver mask, was now his!
Delighted.
And the gains were not just one; the other party also gifted him a substantial present—
The Power of Curse!
This terrifying power emanates when one is on the verge of death, in extreme fear and resentment.
It forms through the interwoven resentments of tens of thousands.
Ordinary people who come into contact will suffer the most horrifying corrosion, their souls rotting, living cursed until death.
But for the Shadow of the Mist, this power is supremely nourishing.
The Shadow of the Mist can devour any energy, indifferent to resentment or curse.
Consuming it, one could distinctly feel the aura of the Shadow of the Mist surge significantly.
Just a step away from reaching Level 16!
This could rival the energy provided by devouring the flesh of tens of thousands of Fallen Demons...
How satisfying.
Leaving the Black Market, Lear, in high spirits, reclaimed the Swamp Giant-Horned Deer King, heading straight for a more bustling area.
The slave market.
Without a word along the way, half an hour later, a Gothic architecture came into view.
The reliefs made the walls hollow, with hero knights resisting demons, angels swinging swords to unleash Holy Light and save the world, and griffins diving from the sky to crush beastmen...
