Black Hearted Mage

Chapter 280 Enemy 3

The old wizard at the Blackstone Tavern, calling himself Old John, pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose, his eyes narrowing slightly behind the lenses. He carefully picked up the herbs Caesars had placed on the oak counter, his fingertips trembling slightly with excitement. The glossy leaves still clung to dew, their roots intact as if freshly dug from the earth. One could even smell their refreshing fragrance.

"Oh my god..."

Old John's Adam's apple rolled. He had never seen such perfect Moonshadow Grass before; even the magical sheen flowing through the veins was clearly visible. He removed his glasses with trembling hands, shock written across his wrinkled face. "These... these don't look like herbs that could be grown in the Blackrock Mountains..."

"old man!"

Caesars suddenly leaned forward, his right hand casually resting on the oak table, his index finger rhythmically tapping the wooden surface. His smile was still gentle, but his dark pupils made Old John's back chill.

"I heard that at the Blackstone Tavern, they only talk about business and never ask about the origins of the items!"

Old John's right hand was quietly sliding under the counter, where the magic circle that triggered the alarm was hidden. His fingertips had already touched the mechanism, and he was hesitant whether to touch it.

"Old man, don't think I don't know what's under the table. If you dare to steal my things, I guarantee your head will be off your neck in the first place!"

Caesar warned in a low voice that he didn't want to start a massacre in Blackrock City before finding old Garlon.

Old John hurriedly pulled his hand back, rubbing his dry palm awkwardly on the table, looking at Caesar in surprise. The other party could sense the alarm circle under the table.

"Are you also a magician?"

"High-level magic warrior!"

Caesars uttered the word slowly, watching Old John's face turn pale. The noisy voices in the tavern suddenly became distant, and Old John could hear his own violent heartbeat. This middle-aged man, who looked only in his early forties, actually possessed the strength of a paladin.

Old John's Adam's apple rolled again, and cold sweat trickled down his wrinkled crevices. He feigned composure as he touched his storage ring: "I'm so sorry, I'm just worried I don't have enough gold coins..."

"interesting!"

Caesars suddenly stood up, his gray-black cloak slashing in a sharp arc. His slender fingers swept across the counter, and the precious herbs instantly disappeared into his space ring.

"You didn't even ask for the quantity, and you already know you don't have enough gold coins? If you want to buy my herbs, you'll have to pay double the price!"

He picked up the crystal bottle on the table, the golden amber liquid swaying in the glass bottle, and walked towards the door of the tavern. The bait had been cast, and now it was just a matter of waiting for the big fish to take the bait.

The tavern's wooden door slammed shut behind Kaisas, shutting out the din and heat. An early spring breeze, carrying the distinct chill of Blackrock City, blew across his face. Kaisas took a deep breath, letting the cool air, mingled with the scent of rust and moss, fill his lungs. His leather boots made a crisp sound as they trod on the basalt-paved street.

Not far behind the Blackstone Tavern, a small, gray-black stone courtyard stood quietly in the sunlight. The courtyard shared the same hue as Blackstone City, constructed of the same gray-black basalt. This was where he had been born and lived. The weeds along the courtyard wall remained as he remembered, though much thicker than they had been twenty years ago.

Caesars didn't pause. He sensed the furtive figures over thirty meters behind him. A sneer curled his lips, his fingers unconsciously stroking the smooth surface of the bottle. He popped the cork, took a swig of the liquor, turned, and headed towards the west city gate.

The setting sun cast a dark golden glow over Blackrock City. In a slightly dilapidated stone courtyard west of the city, Old John, clad in a faded magic robe, stared furrowed brows at the dusty mercenaries before him. His cloudy eyes gleamed beneath his unkempt white brows, and his bony fingers unconsciously stroked the frayed silver emblem on his robe.

"How did you lose people?"

Old John's voice sounded like rusty gears grinding against each other, filled with suppressed anger.

The leading mercenary wiped the sweat from his face and answered breathlessly, "After leaving the city, that guy ran straight towards Blackrock Mountain like a possessed man. We brothers tried our best to chase him, but the mountain path was so steep that even mountain goats would slip..." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple rolling violently, "When we finally climbed to the top, it was as if the guy had evaporated. Not even a trace of him could be seen!"

Several mercenaries slumped in their chairs, their dusty leather armor scratched and their boots caked with the gray-black rock debris characteristic of Blackrock Mountain. The youngest mercenary was even trembling slightly—anyone who had spent most of the day climbing a near-vertical cliff would be like this.

Old John sighed deeply, and the shadows in his wrinkles grew darker.

"Forget it..." He waved his hand, his wrist covered with age spots revealed at the cuff of his robe, "That man's strength... is indeed not something you can deal with. Go back and tell everyone that if you see him in the future, just pretend you didn't see him." As he said this, the corners of his mouth twitched unnaturally.

The mercenaries hurried away. As soon as their footsteps faded into the alley, Old John bolted the heavy oak gate. He quickly entered the stone house, closing the doors and windows. His dry, branch-like fingers pressed into the recessed grooves of the stone wall, and a faint reddish pattern of magic suddenly appeared on the floor tiles. His cloudy eyes suddenly became unusually clear. He quickly walked to the fireplace and pressed a stone in the hearth. A secret door slid silently open from the ground.

At that moment, the air above the moss-covered roof suddenly rippled like water. Caesars' figure gradually emerged from invisibility, his gray-black leather armor blending seamlessly into the twilight. He knelt on one knee on the tiles, his right hand resting on the dagger at his waist. With his left hand, fingers spread wide, several nearly invisible threads of magic were being drawn from every corner of the courtyard.

"really…"

Caesars's mouth curled silently. When the last trace of magic tentacle was withdrawn at the entrance of the secret room, his eyes immediately locked onto the end of the alley, where several mercenaries were leaving.

Caesars leaped from the rooftop as light as a feather, his boots making no sound on the cobblestones. He silently chanted a spell, his entire body becoming transparent once more, only the slightest ripples appearing as he passed over the puddle. The fleeting complaints of the mercenaries drifted on the wind, perfectly pointing him in the right direction.

Late at night, a chill wind howled across the Blackrock Mountains. Caesars returned to the northern side of Blackrock Valley and found a sheltered, temporary camp. He crawled into the tent, made of armored leather, a material that offered both insulation from the cold and surprising comfort. He had spent the entire day disguising himself as a mercenary and wandering the market, only gathering fragmentary information—this group was more cautious than he had imagined.

Old John, seemingly an ordinary medicinal herb merchant, actually controlled a well-trained mercenary force. These mercenaries were highly experienced and unwavering in their obedience to Old John's orders. Caesars, through extensive investigation, discovered that Old John was most likely backed by Old Garlon, the former great southern noble of the Roland Empire. This discovery left him unable to sleep.

Forty-three years—this is how long Old John has been established in Blackrock City, coinciding with the timeline of Earl Garlon's deployment. Even more concerning is that over these forty-plus years, at least 70% of the various minerals, herbs, and other precious magical materials produced in the Blackrock Mountains have fallen into Old John's hands. The destination of these supplies is self-evident—they are being continuously transported to the Saint Laurent Empire through secret channels.

Just as Caesars was lost in thought, Old John from Blackrock City received a magical message: He must purchase these high-grade herbs at any price, and at the same time, find out where they came from.

Old John stroked his beard and frowned. This task was not easy.

In the cozy tent, Caesars fell asleep, a dark red puppy curled up beside him. The little creature's round eyes were open, and after sleeping too much during the day, it was now full of energy. Suddenly, the sound of tumbling gravel broke the silence of the night.

"Boom! Boom!"

The hard basalt shards slammed against the tent, making a muffled thud like a drum. The puppy's fur stood on end, and Caesars suddenly woke up. He was acutely aware of the anomaly—the north wind at this time of year was not strong enough to blow away the rubble, and the basalt unique to Blackrock Mountain was extremely hard, making it even more unlikely for it to suddenly weather and fall off.

Caesars swiftly emerged from his sleeping bag, his leather armor scraping softly in the darkness. He quickly tucked his tent into his interspatial ring, his magic blade gleaming faintly in the night. Using his darkvision, he looked up at the steep mountainside. Unfortunately, it was too far away; he could only vaguely make out rubble rolling westward along the ridge, as if something were moving across the rock face...

Caesars tucked the puppy into his backpack. The furry creature whimpered in dissatisfaction, but he gently pressed his index finger against its moist nose. As magical lines intertwined with his shoulder blades, his jet-black elemental wings suddenly unfolded, each mana feather brimming with dark energy. He soared into the air, lifted by the elemental energy, the chill mountain wind slicing through his wingtips.

Over five hundred meters in the air, Caesar's pupils suddenly constricted. On the ridgeline, a blurry silhouette moved westward at an astonishing speed. The figure, swathed in a flowing, pitch-black cloak, traversed the nearly vertical ridge with ease. Caesar immediately restrained the magical output of his elemental wings, hovering in the air currents and observing. As the moonlight was swallowed by clouds, he noticed the occasional flash of cyan light from the other person's boot soles.

"At least intermediate night vision... Could be a dark magician, or a dark assassin..."

Caesars landed silently on the ridge, secretly estimating a safe distance and maintaining a tracking interval of about a mile. The man in black was extremely alert, occasionally stopping to observe. After running about five or six miles, the man in black suddenly stopped on a protruding basalt rock.

Caesars also stopped immediately. He heard the clang of metal chains and saw the man in black throwing a large bundle of rope into the Black Rock Valley. The man in black grabbed the rope and jumped into the Black Rock Valley. He descended very quickly.

"Damn dog, remember this human scent!"

As Caesars untied the backpack, the puppy's nostrils trembled at a high frequency, and its scarlet pupils stared down the valley. The puppy whimpered. No one could escape its pursuit.

Kaisas stood on the ridge, watching the man in black descending rapidly. This man came to Blackrock Mountain in the middle of the night, so he must have some hidden secrets, and these secrets might be hidden in this valley.

With the help of dark vision, Caesars saw the man in black briefly pause on a huge rock below, and then speed up to the west.

With the help of several buff spells, Caesars jumped off the ridge and slowly floated down towards the huge rock below. The mysterious man in black quickly headed west and could no longer be seen.

Caesars landed steadily on the mottled boulder, the soles of his boots scraping against the rock surface with a subtle, sandy sound. He narrowed his dark eyes, and several magical tentacles extended from his fingertips, exploring the crevices of the stone like living creatures. Suddenly, a familiar magical vibration came from his fingertips, and a cold smile curled his lips—as expected, another surveillance array.

The baseplate, forged from magic copper, shimmered dimly under the stone dust, the magic patterns etched on its surface shimmering faintly. After removing the disguise, four prismatic image stones were arranged in a fan-shaped pattern. Each stone was embedded with a power supply array consisting of ten high-grade magic crystals. These perfect crystals continuously provided energy. Caesars tapped the edge of the baseplate with his fingernail. Based on the degree of magic power decay, he estimated that this ingenious device could continue to operate for at least five or six months.

"Go on, damn dog!"

He casually removed a high-level magic crystal and threw it precisely at the puppy tearing at the backpack. The puppy's dark red fur suddenly exploded, and a faint red light surged beneath its fur as it leaped up. It bit the crystal in half in mid-air with a "crack."

"That black-robed bastard just now really came here to exchange the magic crystals and image stones!" Kaisas stared at the magic crystals on the base plate and sneered, "If we follow him all the way, we can not only confiscate the magic crystals and image stones, but also take away the magic copper base plate, and by the way, find his lair!"

The surveillance array was currently in operation, and Caesars's image was undoubtedly being recorded. Aside from destroying the surveillance array, there was no better solution. He swiftly removed all the magic crystals and image stones, weighed the heavy magic copper baseplate, and then stored it in his interspatial ring.

"You idiot, it's your turn now. Find the route that person took and retrieve all the magic crystals!"

The puppy, chewing on a magic crystal, whined in response. It jumped out of the backpack and, following the black-clad man's footsteps, led Caesars westward. Its body had shrunk and become more agile. It didn't even need to press its nose to the ground; it simply followed the black-clad man's scent and ran at full speed.