Chapter 117 Remuneration

Osta forced a smile.

“I’m not lying. There really is a Samaritan Women’s Spring!”

“Is that so?” Lumian approached Osta with a grin and said, “When the time comes, take a sip first. If it’s useful, you’ll forget that I haven’t paid you. If it’s useless, why should I pay you?”

For a moment, Osta was at a loss for words. He could only smile and nod.

“Trust me, trust me…”

Suddenly, he looked past Lumian, his eyes widening in terror.

Lumian ‘instinctively’ turned to look at the door, but there was no one there.

Seizing the opportunity, Osta ducked and made a break for the open door.

Thud!

Osta tripped over Lumian’s right foot, which had swiftly extended, and crashed to the ground. His nose bridge turned blue, and his gaunt face swelled.

Lumian slowly closed the door, pulled up a chair, and sat down. He looked down at Osta, who was feigning death on the floor, and said, “Don’t tell me you have high spiritual perception and ‘saw’ a bizarre creature behind me. Did you rush to the door to help me deal with it?”

Osta was dumbstruck for a moment before rising to his feet and nodding repeatedly.

“That’s right, that’s right!”

Lumian smiled and glanced at the rectangular wooden table against the wall.

Silver dagger, white candles, a few small bottles filled with different liquids or empty, two imitation goatskins, and a paper box emitting the fragrance of plants were strewn across it.

He has a certain amount of mysticism knowledge… Lumian shifted his gaze back to the uneasy Osta and asked, “Who was that guy with the pipe just now?”

“Baron Brignais!” Osta replied hastily. “He’s the leader of the Savoie Mob in the market district.”

Savoie was the name of an inland province in the Intis Republic, bordering the provinces of Haut-Hornacis and Bas-Hornacis. It was rich in mineral resources and had a valiant folk culture.

“A baron? There are still barons?” Lumian asked, amused.

Ever since Emperor Roselle’s death and the establishment of the Republic, aristocratic titles had vanished from daily life.

Osta said fearfully, “That’s a nickname he gave himself. Perhaps his ancestors held such an aristocratic title.”

Lumian leaned back in his chair and asked casually, “Why did he come to you? Do you owe them money?”

Seeing Lumian’s harmless demeanor, as though he was chatting with a friend, Osta relaxed a little despite his fear.

He said bitterly, “In order to b-buy an item, borrowed 3,000 verl d’or from a loan shark.

Later, that man sold the debt to Brignais.

I “I paid back at least 3,000 verl d’or, but he told me there was still 2,000 in interest!”

“If you drag on for another two or three months, you won’t owe 2,000, but 4,000.” Lumian watched Osta’s expression crumble, the air of mystery gone.

He then lowered his voice and said in a beguiling tone, “If I were you, I’d find a way to draw Brignais and his crew into a quarry pit. Then, I’d bring down the stone layer above, burying them for eternity.

“No creditors, no debts.”

The more Osta listened, the more panic-stricken he became. He stared at Lumian as if he were a demon.

He had a suspicion that Lumian had already plotted such a scheme, but with Osta Trul as the intended target, not Brignais!

“That’s murder! A crime!” Osta exclaimed in terror.

“Keep it down. You wouldn’t want to lose your voice permanently, would you?” Lumian warned him with a smile. “So you do realize that’s a crime? Did anyone ever tell you that fraud is a crime too?”

Osta was at a loss for words.

Lumian stood up and dusted off his gloves.

“I’m just kidding. I was testing your character.”

“What?” Osta was baffled.

Lumian wouldn’t reveal that his true motive was to establish an ice-cold, ruthless persona in Osta’s mind. It would come in handy during future “negotiations.”

Forced trust was still trust! “Congratulations on passing my test. This proves you’re not completely without scruples.” Lumian grinned and spread his arms.

He quickly steered the conversation back on course.

“What did you borrow so much money for?”

He glanced around, adding, “Doesn’t seem like there’s anything valuable here…”

Osta instinctively wanted to spout a lie but remembered Lumian’s warning.

He trembled and said, “Do… do you know about potions?”

“You’re really a Beyonder?” Lumian chuckled.

Seeing that Lumian knew about Beyonders and potions, Osta breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad he hadn’t lied.

Any fabricated story would be riddled with holes in front of a true Beyonder, easily exposed. If caught, Osta might end up “sleeping forever” in some Underground Trier hideout tonight.

Taking two deep breaths, Osta continued, “A few months ago, I borrowed 3,000 verl d’or from a loan shark to purchase the main ingredient for a potion. Combined with the 4,000 verl d’or I’d saved, I successfully transformed from an ordinary person into a Beyonder.”

“Which Sequence do you belong to? You can’t even handle a few thugs?” Lumian asked with feigned suspicion.

Osta looked defeated.

“I’m a Sequence 9 Secrets Suppliant.”

“It doesn’t sound weak.” Lumian could only gauge by the potion’s name.

Osta lamented in frustration, “I thought Secrets Suppliants were powerful too. The seller even claimed it would allow me to see the world’s truth.

“In the end, aside from heightened spiritual perception, all I got was some impractical sacrificial knowledge and ritual magic. I can occasionally sense the presence of mysterious entities, scaring myself witless, but I can’t even defeat a thug!”

…

“The ritual magic should come in handy,” Lumian remarked knowingly. Osta looked close to tears.

“I’m well-versed in mysticism. I’m a follower of the Eternal Blazing Sun. How can I pray to an unknown entity? That’s too risky! “Sigh, there are some honorific names in the potion’s knowledge, but they’re all concealed entities. Just hearing them is terrifying. I wouldn’t dare invoke depravity, true kin, or the gaze of fate!”

He glanced at Lumian and feigned determination.

“But I’ve considered it. If Baron Brignais and his goons corner me again, I’ll pray to the hidden existence and gain strength!” He was ostensibly talking about Baron Brignais, but his true intent was to caution Lumian against forcing him into a corner. Lumian studied Osta’s uneasy face and agreed, “That’s a wise decision. Baron Brignais and his crew underestimate a Beyonder. If I were in their shoes, I wouldn’t give you the chance to reach a dead end.”

He then smiled at Osta. “You’d be dead before that happens.” Osta opened his mouth but closed it again, his expression more pained than crying.

Lumian walked over to the wooden table and toyed with the empty bottles. “You’ve moved several times, but Baron Brignais keeps finding you. I suspect he or the Savoie Mob have Beyonders on their side.” Osta gasped in shock.

Lumian picked up the silver dagger from the table, twirling it as he said to Osta, “I can offer you 100 verl d’or as a reward.”

“Huh?” Osta was baffled once more. He realized he couldn’t keep up with Lumian’s thought process.

“You, you still want the spring water from the Samaritan Women’s Spring?” he ventured. Lumian grinned and replied, “Tell me, does it really exist?”

Eyeing Lumian’s amused gaze, Osta hesitated for a moment before admitting, “I’m not sure.” Lumian nodded in satisfaction.

“What I want is for you to take me to the gathering you mentioned, the one where you bought the potion’s main ingredient. The reward is 100 verl d’or.”

…

Lumian made this request partly because Madam Magician’s mission might be connected to the gathering involving Beyonder materials, and partly because he needed a similar event to acquire weapons, materials, Sealed Artifacts, and arcane knowledge.

Osta swallowed hard.

“I-I can try, but I’ll need the gathering organizer’s approval.”

“No problem.” Lumian took out a gold coin and beckoned Osta over. “This Louis d’or is your reward for asking. I’ll give you the remaining 80 verl d’or when I can attend the gathering.” Osta hadn’t anticipated that his beating would turn into a job offer. He was momentarily dumbstruck.

After a few seconds, he cautiously approached the wooden table and took the 20 verl Louis d’or. He told Lumian, “I’m not sure when I’ll get an answer, but no later than next Wednesday. I spend the day near the catacombs and sleep here at night. You can find me anytime.”

Lumian nodded, smiling as he raised the silver dagger in his hand and plunged it into Osta’s shoulder.

Blood spurted out, and Osta staggered back in terror. He leaned against the wall and cried out anxiously, “Don’t kill me! I’m not lying!” Lumian picked up a glass bottle from the wooden table and approached Osta with a smile.

“Don’t worry. If I wanted you dead, I would’ve done it by now.

“This is called a blood oath. I’m very wary of deception and betrayal.”

As Lumian spoke, he held the empty glass bottle to Osta’s wound, allowing the blood to trickle in. During this process, he smiled at Osta and said, “You have a strong grasp of mysticism. You should know what blood means in the hands of others. Don’t lie to me.”

“Curse…” For a moment, Osta couldn’t decide whether to rejoice that he hadn’t been killed on the spot or despair that his blood now belonged to a man more dangerous than Baron Brignais. Lumian said nothing more. He tightened the bottle cap, tore a strip of cloth from the room, and tossed it to Osta.

“Bandage your wound yourself.”

He wasn’t familiar with any Beyonder curses, but he could test if expired blood could activate Fallen Mercury’s fate-exchanging ability. Even if it didn’t work, all he needed to do was convince Osta that he knew how to cast curses. Lumian glanced at Osta, who was desperately trying to staunch the bleeding, and casually asked, “What’s your plan for dealing with Baron Brignais?”

“With this Louis d’or and some money I’ve saved, I should be able to appease them for a week,” Osta said with a bitter smile. “They won’t get a single coppet if they push their debtors to death.”

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