Mystery: Starting from the Shadow World

Chapter 7 Dragon Bar

"Never mind, let's talk about it tonight."

After tossing and turning in bed for several minutes, Philip still couldn't recall the feeling and didn't really want to sleep. He picked up his empty satchel and took the hotel key and went outside.

He had hidden the shirts containing twenty-one gold coins under his bed in the room. Even though he was a little worried, it would be troublesome to carry those things with him all the time, since he only had so much storage space.

Philip, recalling his experience attending the Backlund Extraordinary Gathering with his parents, traced the map of Tingen with his finger, eventually stopping at a spot in the dock area:

Dragon Bar.

In the afternoon, a young man wearing an overcoat and carrying a satchel stepped off a public carriage. His bright blue eyes swept across the dilapidated area, which was clearly prone to conflict, and finally settled on a bar in the distance.

Even through the heavy doors, Philip could still hear the shouts coming from inside, as noisy and enthusiastic as the stands at various sporting events.

Even more than that.

"Hmm, this is probably the most likely place for extraordinary individuals to gather. If not, we can try finding someone like a gossipmonger."

He refused to believe that the number of extraordinary individuals or occult enthusiasts in Tingen was so small that it couldn't even support a trading platform. He thought it should be called a town, not a city.

As he approached the bar entrance, a burly man standing guard nearby seemed to notice Philip's unfamiliar face, but made no comment, letting him push the door open and go inside.

"Meryl, that's it, maintain the advantage!"

"Luke! Can you even fight? Your legs are as weak as if you've been out all night with prostitutes. Fight back! Make him bleed from the nose!"

The sweltering heat, reminiscent of a sauna, the pungent smell of alcohol, the duel between two shirtless men in the boxing ring, and the shouts of dozens of patrons around them all created a powerful and impactful atmosphere.

However, for Philip, who had experienced time travel, lying in a shelter, being bound to an unknown space, and being dragged to a party by an evil god in less than 24 hours, it was just a matter of slightly raising an eyebrow and calmly exclaiming "Oh~".

After expressing his feelings, he went to the bar, gently tapped the table, placed a silver souvenir on it, and said to the bartender in front of him:

"Yes, I've always been interested in things related to the occult, and a friend told me that this place could satisfy my curiosity."

The bartender didn't speak, but scrutinized Philip for several seconds before slowly looking away, silently picking up the silver sulphur and clutching it in his palm.

"Sir, this lie is full of holes. You didn't show any restraint or doubt. This composure contradicts your words. But your sincerity has moved me. As for billiard room number two, just say that 'Power' let you in."

Philip nodded, then politely declined the other party's offer to mix him a drink, and followed the directions around the boxing ring, walking alone into the billiards room behind it.

Inside, two people were holding golf clubs, chatting and laughing about various things. They immediately fell silent after he pushed the door open and entered.

"Powered let me in."

Philip closed the door behind him and then asked, "So, if I'm going to sell some trinkets related to the occult here in the future, are there any requirements for displaying them openly or tacitly?"

Hearing this, they turned their gaze away, took two steps to the side, and pointed to the secret door behind them:

"If you're going to sell mystical items in there, then one-twentieth of the profits will have to go to the boss, Swain. Believe me, you don't want to know what will happen if he suffers a loss."

Thank you for your answer.

Philip waved goodbye to the two men and walked through the secret door. He passed through several rooms used to conceal his presence before finally entering a relatively large space.

"It's all street stalls, and compared to the Gathering of Extraordinary Ones in Backlund, this is nowhere near as good; it's more like a flea market."

He walked through the crowd, and after seeing many extraordinary materials hidden among the bottles and jars, he breathed a sigh of relief, confirming that the audience here truly included extraordinary people and not just rich fools with nowhere to spend their money.

"I only have a little over three hundred pounds right now. That's barely enough to buy all the materials needed for the prisoner route, and it'll affect my livelihood from now on—in a double sense. It's a pity they probably can't sell the recipe here."

Philip's gaze swept across the rows of goods, using these actions to dispel any lingering hesitation and solidify his resolve to achieve his goal:

Become an extraordinary being again, and become a "prisoner"!

He made up his mind after being pulled into the gray fog by the "Fool" at the hotel and receiving news that a gathering would be held later.

This is an opportunity.

Even though the "Prisoner" path is prone to madness and is cursed, once discovered by the official extraordinary individuals, it will result in rejection and arrest. Even if one sincerely joins, one will lose their freedom.

But Philip had to make this choice.

Unable to understand the reasons behind it, the Tarot Club was formed out of nowhere, and the world of shadows was shrouded in mystery. Originally, "Philip" was hiding in his heart, harboring an unresolved hatred for the Rose School's indulgent faction, as well as a selfish desire to pursue extraordinary power.

Not a single mistake, not a single poem, not a single post, not a single piece of content, not a single look!

None of this allowed him to live a quiet and peaceful life as an ordinary person.

Suddenly, Philip's gaze stopped on something. He walked over, squatted down, and without any ulterior motives, asked directly, "How much do this, the Heart-Binding Grass, and that Bitter Fruit cost?"

While asking questions, he glanced at the other items on the stall and couldn't help but be somewhat surprised. This was on a completely different level from other places; he was certain that there were three items that were the main ingredients for Sequence 9 potions.

Moreover, the tail feathers of the Red Firebird lingered on Philip's sapphire blue eyes and that slightly dull reddish-yellow feather. It was a pity that he didn't have much money to buy it now, otherwise, once he got to Backlund, the main ingredients and recipe together would sell even better.

The stall owner, completely concealed under a deep black occult cloak, didn't look up, but the cloak shifted slightly as he replied in a hoarse voice, "One bitter fruit costs 4 sulphurs."

"But the Heart-Binding Grass is only for exchange, not for sale."

"What?" Philip frowned, hesitated for two seconds, and then asked, "Alright, tell me, what do you need to exchange this for?"

"hehe."

A cold laugh came from beneath the cloak, sending chills down one's spine. "Since you know about the Heart-Binding Grass, you should know its value. Unless you trade it for crystallized venom from the Crown Jellyfish or dried Black-spotted Frog."

(End of this chapter)