The northern port of the Scotia Empire, Ceylon City.
Torrential rain poured in through the gaps between the cannons. The sky was so dark that it looked like it had been dyed with ink. The fishing boats shivered in the port. Huge waves crashed against the dam, splashing water up to a height of more than ten meters. There was a loud boom.
The rain accumulated and quickly spread through the slums. The water on the streets was getting deeper and deeper. The drainage system that had not been repaired for at least five years was useless. In an instant, the slums were covered in water.
Ceylon City at Yulan Bay was not what it used to be. The income from the declining fishing industry was limited, and the mayor could not do anything about it. To repair the drainage system, one needed at least a Magician who knew alchemy and a large number of apprentices. Just the blueprint alone would cost thousands of gold coins. There had not been a Magician in Ceylon City for at least two hundred years. The municipal office was almost a decoration.
Lightning tore through the sky. The thunder only came after a long time. Electric snakes danced, illuminating the city in the storm. On the empty street, a ten-year-old boy waded through the water with difficulty, shivering as he moved forward.
This boy was very thin and weak. His short brown hair was cut unevenly. The rain rushed through his eyelashes, making it hard for him to open his eyes. The boy breathed out faint white air from his nose and mouth. His legs were trembling. He was tightly hugging an oiled paper bag. That was the food he had begged for today.
Rumble!
With a loud thunder, the boy finally could not hold on anymore and fell to the ground. His face was buried in the water, and he quickly choked and coughed. He struggled with all his might, wanting to stand up again. But his frail body couldn't take it anymore. He just rolled over and fainted. Until he lost consciousness, the boy's hand was still tightly clutching the oiled paper bag.
The storm raged for nearly two hours before the sky cleared up. The puddles slowly receded, and people appeared on the street. The unconscious boy was washed under the eaves of a house, and his body was pressed against a stone to tie a horse.
The door was pushed open. A man dressed like a servant saw the unconscious boy and ran up to kick him. He said angrily, "Beggar, get out of here. Don't die here."
His voice was sharp and mournful, like a castrated actress in the Tanggulas Empire's palace. The boy woke up moaning from the kick, and he coughed violently. He felt hot all over and knew he had a fever. The young man was still subconsciously clutching the package tightly in his hand. He heaved a sigh of relief, turned around, and crawled two steps away. He struggled to open the package.
The package was filled with moldy old rice. He had planned to cook it after he got home, but he couldn't wait any longer. If he didn't eat now, he wouldn't even have the strength to walk.
Chen Mi was like a grain of sand in the young man's mouth, chewing it up and swallowing it.
"What bad luck!" The ferocious servant saw that the young man really couldn't stand up, so he spat on the ground before turning around and entering the door.
The young man lay on the cold ground and barely swallowed half a bag of uncooked rice. Only then did he get up shakily and walk towards the east of the city without looking back. His house was outside the city. If he didn't go back when it was dark, he would freeze to death on the street if it rained again.
A fat merchant walked out of the scarlet door behind him. He was dressed in cheap silk, and his hair was greasy, as if he had been drenched in rain.
"Eh? Isn't that the Metatlin brat? What's his name again? "The fat merchant's eyes were sharp. He looked at the young man's back and asked the two servants behind him.
"Salin. My lord, his name is Salin." The servant smiled obsequiously, his voice like a chicken that had been grabbed by the neck. The master and servants looked vulgar, and they looked at the young man with extremely unfriendly eyes.
"Why isn't he dead yet?"
"Who knows? I wonder if that bastard is still willing to give him food." The other servant replied angrily.
"Hmph. Keep an eye out. If he's dead, buy that house as soon as possible. Don't let others take advantage of you. " The fat merchant spoke casually, twisting his cumbersome flesh as he turned around and walked in another direction.
"Yes, my lord." The servant followed behind him carefully. The two of them could almost hide in the fat merchant's shadow.
The night was as cold as water. The young man called Salin dragged his exhausted body out of Ceylon City. He carried the package of oil paper and left the main road. He took every few steps back to the ancestral house.
This huge stone house was the last possession of the Metatlin Family. Salin pushed open the door and staggered into the house.
The stone walls were covered in moss and emitted a chill. All the windows outside the two-story house had no glass, making the lonely stone house seem gloomy and cold.
Salin panted. He was finally home. He almost crawled up the stairs and returned to his bedroom. He fell head first onto the bed. The bed was as hard and damp as the walls.
His clothes were soaked through by the rain and stuck to his body after being blown by the wind all the way back. This was Salin's only piece of clothing. Salin struggled to get up, took off his clothes, and spread them on the bed. The package of oil paper was placed beside his head. His waist hurt, and when he looked down, it was already bruised.
It was the servant who had kicked him. Salin clenched his teeth and lay down. As long as he slept, the pain would disappear.
The moonlight and cold wind poured in through the window. It was not poetic at all. Salin felt his body boiling, and his head was splitting. If this continued, his life would be in danger. He struggled to get up and pulled out a box from under the bed.
The lock on the box had been removed long ago. The silver lock had been exchanged for a week's worth of food. No one bought the camphor wood box to prevent insects, so Salin planned to use it for firewood.
Opening the box, he found a messy pile of bills. Most of them were debt documents. Salin found a metal badge and stuck it on his forehead. A cool feeling spread from his forehead, and his headache seemed to be much better. Salin sat on the ground and looked at the bills in the box, tears streaming down his face.
The Metatlin Family used to be nobles. This family name was once a symbol of wealth in the northern part of the Empire. But in Salin's generation, the Metatlin Family had nothing. These debt certificates had also become waste paper. The people who owed them money had long since died. The change of power and the chaos of war had caused the Metatlin Family to gradually decline.
If the people who owed them money were still alive, Salin could buy ten Ciaran Cities with these IOUs.
The badge on his forehead was the symbol of the Metatlin Family. Salin did not sell this palm-sized badge. Like these bills, the badge was a relic left to him by his father.
When Salin was six years old, both his parents died, leaving him only this box and the ancestral house. The six-year-old Salin did not have any skills to make a living, so he could only live by selling the things in the ancestral house. Black-hearted merchants would naturally not let go of the chance to make a fortune. What did a six-year-old know? In less than half a year, Salin had sold everything in the house.
Salin was now twelve years old. Because of malnutrition, he looked like a ten-year-old, small and weak.
He did not sell this ancestral house. It was not that he did not want to, but that real estate transactions had to be done in the city hall, and could not be faked. The few merchants who coveted his house simply did not buy it, and waited for Salin to starve to death. Once Salin died, the house became ownerless. All they needed to do was buy the land, which was almost free.
But Salin had a tough life, and lived until he was twelve years old by begging.
Salin fell onto the bed. The cool feeling from the family badge spread throughout his body, and the pain in his waist eased a lot. Salin fell into a deep sleep. He did not know if he would ever wake up again after falling asleep this time.
Bam bam bam!
Salin opened his eyes abruptly and sat up. The sunlight from the window spilled into the house, and the floor was covered in dust.
It was strange to have someone knocking on the door early in the morning. Salin's ancestral house was not near the main road, but at the foot of the mountain, and he even had to pass through a small forest to get there. Ever since Salin had nothing to sell, no one had come looking for him. Bam bam bam!
Bam bam bam!
The knocking continued, and Salin jumped out of bed. He felt much lighter, and his fever was gone. Putting the family badge back into the box, and shoving the box under the bed, Salin walked down the stairs to open the door.
He had returned in a daze yesterday, and had forgotten to lock the door. Salin was a little scared. There were wild beasts in this place, and if they had come in, he would have been eaten in his sleep.
With a squeak, the sunlight shone on his face, and it was somewhat warm. The shadows of the trees were sparse, and a middle-aged man stood in the scattered shadows. He had long black hair, a gray robe, and a wooden staff in his hand.
The man was less than forty years old, with sword-like eyebrows, long eyes, and no beard. He wore a huge ring on the hand that held the wooden staff. The silver-black ring was full of complicated symbols. Salin was slightly dazed. This middle-aged man's attire was rather strange. Could he be a Priest of the Vatican?
The middle-aged man's expression looked gentle, but this gentleness was like the demeanor of a noble. That was just his habit, and had nothing to do with you.
His life as a beggar had made Salin sensitive. He knew who he could talk to, and who he had to keep a distance from. But this middle-aged man was completely different from the people of Ceylon City. He was clearly standing in front of him, but Salin could not feel his presence.
The middle-aged man smiled at Salin, and said, "Where's your family's adults?"
This man was from out of town. How could the people of Ceylon City not know him, an unlucky fellow? Salin's heart calmed down, and he rubbed his temples with his hand. He said, "There's no one else here, sir. What can I do for you?"
Salin asked politely, trying his best to appear calm. If you wanted to live, don't let others think you are annoying. This was Salin's twelve years of life experience.
"Oh." The middle-aged man looked at Salin in surprise. Salin came out in a hurry, wearing only a pair of shorts, and his upper body was bare. There was even a palm-sized mark on his forehead, left by the family crest.
"Is this house yours?" The middle-aged man asked gently.
"Yes." Salin looked at the ground, his brown pupils constricting. Could this man be a robber?
"It's like this. I want to buy this house. Can we go in and talk?"
Buy a house? Salin was at a loss at this news. He had long wanted to sell this house and work in the city. Even if he helped people process fresh fish, he could make a living. But apprentices were provided with food and shelter, and if he went to work, he would starve to death in the first month. Salin turned sideways in a daze. "Come in."
The middle-aged man stepped into the stone house, and the dust under his feet disappeared without a trace. A cool breeze blew past, and the damp smell in the living room was instantly gone. Salin suppressed the excitement in his heart, and closed the door, carefully calculating how much money would be appropriate.
The middle-aged man's gaze swept across the room, and everything in the room fell into his eyes. It could be said that Salin's house was bare, and there was nothing to appreciate. But the middle-aged man was very satisfied. He turned around and asked Salin, "You said this house is yours. Do you have the deed?"
"I do." Salin nodded, but didn't go to the bedroom to find the deed. Now that he was older, he naturally understood that the merchants had cheated him when he was young, so he was much more cautious in his actions.
The middle-aged man smiled, and reached out to touch Salin's head. "Don't worry, I'm a magician. I won't cheat you of your money. Tell me, how many gold coins do you plan to sell this house for? "
Gold coins! Salin's eyes lit up. He had never received gold coins when he sold the things in his house. A four-foot oil painting was only left with one silver coin when someone took it away. A gilded candlestick was exchanged for two silver coins. This was a conscience. When he was six, a merchant moved the entire cabinet, leaving only two loaves of bread for Salin.
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
