Chapter 28: The Forest Ranger

The Black Market! Even they had only heard rumors about it. The black market existed in the dark and dangerous districts of large cities, teeming with thieves, criminals, maniacs, and far more unsavory types than one could count. If someone were to cast a “Detect Evil” spell here, they would discover that more than ninety-nine percent of those present would register as so evil that the aura would glow a deep, sinister purple.

Thanks to Bjorn’s prior warning, though the group saw many tempting items, they refrained from approaching any of the stalls and simply followed in his footsteps.

The black market was vast, shrouded in darkness overhead, with torches mounted on pillars serving as the only main source of light. Bjorn seemed intimately familiar with every corner. After weaving through several turns, they arrived before a small wooden door.

Several tall, burly men stood guard by the entrance, their faces fierce and menacing as if the words “I am a villain” were written across their brows. Seeing a group of “little people” approach, the leader among them stepped forward. Bjorn didn’t bother with words; he simply tossed a gold coin. A golden arc landed smoothly in the man’s hand, and his face lit up with joy as he courteously ushered the group inside.

As the thug’s disgusting grin appeared, Dallena discreetly shuffled a couple of steps away from him.

The leader led them through the interior, which, in stark contrast to the outer black market, was abuzz with energy—one could even call it fervent. Cheers and curses echoed without end!

Beyond another door awaited a colossal underground arena. In the center, two barbarians battled fiercely, while spectators waved betting slips, shouting encouragement for their chosen fighter.

Each punch landed with a sickening thud; both fighters were bloodied and gasping for air, yet neither held back, pummeling each other relentlessly. None among them, whether from their sheltered upbringings or their time at the academy, had ever witnessed such a scene.

Watching the blood-soaked duel, Cook and the others’ faces paled.

“Who... who are these people? Why do they fight each other like this? Don’t they fear death?” Dallena, lips trembling, sidled up to Bjorn and whispered her question.

“Do you know where we are? This is the Shadow Alley,” Bjorn replied calmly. “They are known as ‘Street Brawlers,’ fighting for the title of ‘Champion.’ The honor and renown of being ‘King of the Street’ not only brings them status but also a hefty sum of money!”

“Keep up—this isn’t what I brought you to see. We’re here to find a guide.”

Belron muttered under his breath, “Why not just hire a guide outside? Why look for these people?”

“Do you know who these street brawlers are?” Bjorn asked. The others shook their heads.

“Most are barbarians or rangers, warriors who double as wanderers—experts of the wild! They come from the wilderness, testing their skills in the alleys, seeking challenges and proving their strength. Their lives are a constant struggle for survival in dangerous corners, always on guard, with lightning-fast combat reflexes!”

“Many high-ranking fighters have emerged from here, and even those on the verge of legend come seeking breakthroughs!”

Watching Bjorn converse with all sorts of people in this shadowy jargon, Cook and the others each harbored their own thoughts, their excitement mounting as they believed they’d uncovered the secret to Bjorn's strength.

After approaching several individuals, they finally found a ranger from the Hill Marshes, led by a gambler.

“One thousand gold coins,” declared the ranger, a middle-aged man named Hubwick.

Seeing how young Bjorn’s group was, he guessed they must be the idle children of some wealthy family or nobility, out for a bit of adventure—so he aimed to squeeze them for all he could.

“What?” Dallena exploded on the spot. “Why not just rob us instead? That much just to guide us?”

The guild leader frowned as well; a thousand gold was no small sum, and her monthly funds were almost entirely consumed by magical research.

Hubwick shrugged indifferently, arms crossed. “Recently, a lot of lizardfolk have taken over the swamp forest. That area’s become very unsafe. For less than that, I wouldn’t bother.”

“Fine, no problem!” Bjorn replied, tossing him a pouch of coins. “Here’s your deposit. I hope you’re worth the price.”

Hubwick weighed the pouch in his hand, beaming. “Ha! Don’t worry. I’ll get my things ready and meet you in a while.”

“One hour from now, we’ll meet at the west gate.”

“Alright, no problem,” Hubwick replied, then disappeared into the crowd.

“Hey, Bjorn, aren’t you afraid he’ll just run off with the money?” Cook asked, uneasy as the ranger’s figure vanished.

Bjorn smiled. “Don’t worry. Most people here are desperate outlaws. The only thing they have left is a shred of reputation. If he cheats us, the underworld will have no place for him.”

After that, the group returned to the bustling city streets.

Seeing the throngs of people all around, the guild leader and the others finally let out a quiet sigh of relief.

The powerful minds of spellcasters endowed them with heightened intuition. They could sense danger lurking everywhere—in the flicker of a glance from even the most ordinary-looking passerby, there was something chilling.

Most here might not be individually formidable, but in a real fight, none of them felt confident in victory.

They were beginning to understand the true purpose behind the academy’s assignment.

After their circuit through the black market, Dallena and the others’ trust in Bjorn had grown significantly, and their initial resistance faded.

Time passed swiftly, and soon they met Hubwick by the city gate.

He had changed into light armor, a large pack and a bow on his back, a dagger and throwing knives at his belt. After a brief exchange, the party left Sevennton behind.

Traveling was hardly a pleasure; at first, everyone was in high spirits, chatting and laughing as though on a sightseeing tour.

But after traversing wasteland and unnamed forests, they gradually fell silent.

At this time, Nethian mages were not pure spellcasters—human magic was still limited. Statistics showed that among practitioners, the mortality rate for those below higher ranks was immense, especially among intermediate spellcasters. The academy therefore required every student to master basic martial skills.

Though their stamina could not match Bjorn’s, the group was still far above average.

Hubwick, for his part, proved well worth his thousand-gold fee, a true master of wilderness survival.

“That’s red phosphorus grass. Stay away from it—wherever it grows, you’ll find red phosphorus vipers nearby.”

“The red phosphorus viper is poisonous. If you’re bitten, find some red phosphorus grass, crush the root, apply it to the wound, and eat some to neutralize the toxin.”

Knowing these “young masters and ladies” had never ventured out before, Hubwick made a point to warn them of every danger they encountered.

“Hey, these red berries look good,” Jennifer said, reaching for a bush as they passed.

“Don’t!” Hubwick quickly stopped her. “You can’t eat the red berries—only the green ones. Once they turn red, they’re poisonous.”

“Isn’t green unripe? Why can you eat them unripe and not when they’re ripe?” the others asked, puzzled.

“Once these berries ripen and turn red, the bush secretes a neurotoxin into them. Eat one or two and you’ll be paralyzed; eat more and you could die. Pick them when green, let them soften over a few days, and then they’re safe to eat.”

Such are the hard-earned lessons of the wild. The group now realized that what seemed simple could hide deadly peril—the more attractive something looked, the more dangerous it might be.

Bjorn stayed close to the guide, having his chip record everything—live demonstrations and samples were far more instructive than any book. The chip could analyze substances, but only after ingestion and absorption by the human body could it collect data. A few things were manageable, but Bjorn couldn’t go around eating everything like the legendary herbalist Shennong, or he’d end up poisoning himself.

He realized his chip had much room for improvement and began planning its future upgrades.

As dusk fell, Hubwick found a suitable spot for a temporary camp and began pitching tents.

It was at that moment that the long-awaited fourth-circle arcane spell finally finished its simulation.

“Ding! Spell model simulation complete. Runtime: 37 days, 6 hours, 45 minutes, and 24 seconds...”