The Elven Cultivator

Bishui Port, city gate.

The early morning mist had not yet dissipated. The flag above the city wall hung limply in the breeze, a corner occasionally lifting to reveal a sea-green sail insignia.

A long line had formed before the city gate.

The line of people waiting to enter snaked from the gate’s archway to over a hundred meters away. Most were merchants with packs on their backs, traders leading mules and horses, and adventurers who had arrived in small groups.

Unlike usual, the inspection at the city gate was much stricter than before.

Two squads of fully armed city guards stood on either side, shortswords hanging from their waists. With hands on their hilts, their sharp gazes swept over every person who passed.

A long table was placed in the center of the gate, and behind it sat a scribe, head down, writing furiously in a thick register. The quill pen scratched across the paper.

The line moved slowly forward, and whispers rippled through the crowd.

“Another inspection just to get into the city today? Ugh, when is this going to end?”

“I heard something happened at the port again a couple of days ago. A patrol of the Dragon Race was ambushed, and several died. This lockdown probably won’t end for another two or three months.”

“Was it that… Fallen Dragon Association again?”

“Who else could it be? I have no idea where that Fallen Dragon Association came from, but they actually dare to attack the Dragon Race.”

“Hmph, those Dragon Race members wreak havoc all the time. They don’t even treat us like people. If you ask me, the Fallen Dragon Association did a good thing. They should kill more of them…”

A young man who looked like an Adventurer couldn’t help but chime in, but before he could finish, his companion clamped a hand over his mouth.

The companion’s face turned pale. He shot the young man a fierce glare and cursed in a low voice, “Do you have a death wish? If someone from the Dragon Race hears you, we’ll both end up in the dungeons!”

The young man realized his slip of the tongue and shrank back. He instinctively glanced toward the city gate, only relaxing when he saw that the soldiers hadn’t noticed them. He whispered, “I was just talking…”

“Just talking isn’t okay either!” his companion scolded in a low voice. “Watch your mouth. I don’t want to die with you!”

The Adventurer sheepishly shut his mouth and said no more.

The line shuffled forward again.

The scribe looked up, his gaze sweeping over the young man before him. He then looked back down at his register and spoke in a flat tone.

“Name, profession, where you’re from, and your business in the city.”

“Gael. Adventurer. Came from the south to procure supplies.”

The scribe jotted a few notes in the register and continued without looking up. “Do you have your Adventurer identification?”

The young man paused for a moment.

Hearing no response, the scribe glanced up at him impatiently and frowned. “Adventurers must present identification issued by the Bishui Port Adventurer’s Association or have a joint guarantee from three certified Adventurers to enter the city. If you don’t meet the requirements, leave now. Don’t hold up the people behind you.”

“Of course.” The young man gave a faint smile, and a strange light seemed to flash in his eyes. “Here, this is my identification.”

As he spoke, he held out his open palm to the scribe. In it lay a small piece of sheepskin paper.

It was just a blank piece of sheepskin paper with uneven edges. It bore no text or markings and looked like a scrap torn from the margin of some book.

However, the moment the scribe and the surrounding soldiers laid eyes on the sheepskin paper, their expressions went blank. Their eyes turned vacant and dazed, but they returned to normal a second later.

The scribe blinked, glanced down at the sheepskin paper in Anton’s palm, and nodded.

“No problem. You can go in.”

He waved a hand dismissively toward the gate and went back to scribbling in his register.

The young man retracted the sheepskin paper and, with a calm expression, strode through the gate’s archway, disappearing into its shadow.

On the bustling street, Anton blended into the crowd, discreetly observing his surroundings.

Bishui Port was as lively as ever, with people coming and going. The difference was that the number of soldiers on patrol had clearly increased.

Evidently, the frequent attacks by the Fallen Dragon Association had put a great deal of pressure on the Bishui Council, prompting them not only to increase patrols but also to strictly screen everyone entering and leaving Bishui Port.

It had reached the point where he was forced to use the Watermoon Art—a technique that used Divine Sense to disrupt the perceptions of others—to get past the inspection and enter the city.

Without lingering on the street, Anton crossed several blocks, turned onto Tide Street, and soon arrived at the headquarters of the Tulip Commerce Association.

Although he didn’t hold out much hope that the Tulip Commerce Association could find the materials he needed, Anton decided to make the trip in person anyway.

’What if?’

’If I get lucky and acquire the materials, or even just a lead on them, it would save me a great deal of trouble.’

As soon as Anton stepped into the association’s headquarters, a staff member recognized him and quickly ushered him into a reception room in the back.

A short while later, Harold hurried over.

He wore a well-tailored, dark gray, fine-wool vest over a clean, white linen shirt, looking as neat and meticulous as ever.

But compared to their first meeting thirty years ago, the manager of the Tulip Commerce Association’s headquarters had aged considerably. His hair was completely gray, and his face was etched with many fine lines.

’Time is unforgiving.’

Harold, on the other hand, looked at Anton’s youthful face, which hadn’t changed at all in thirty years, and couldn’t help but feel a sense of wonder.

He didn’t dwell on it. Most powerful members of the Human Race aged much more slowly than ordinary people, and he simply assumed Anton was one of them.

“Sir, it’s been a long time.” Harold’s face was wreathed in a warm smile. “Are you here to sell more Scale Rock Lizard hides, or to procure materials?”

“Procure materials.”

Anton cut to the chase, pulling a list from his coat and pushing it across the table to Harold.

The list was densely packed with the names of over a hundred materials.

These were all items he had filtered out from numerous tomes in the Root Library, all meeting the criteria for the Fire Attribute, Earth Attribute, and metal primary ingredients for the Condensation Pill.

Harold took the list and carefully scanned it.

His brow gradually furrowed, and the smile on his face faded.

After a moment of silence, he looked up, his expression troubled.

“Sir, I’m very sorry, but our association does not currently have any of these materials in stock.”

Anton wasn’t surprised. He asked, “And if I commission you to find them?”

Harold chose his words carefully. “These materials are all extremely rare. None of them can be easily obtained. We would need a significant amount of time to search, and even then, there’s no guarantee we’d find them.”

Anton took a sip of his red tea, his expression calm.

He had expected this answer, so he wasn’t disappointed.

Although the Tulip Commerce Association was one of the largest in Bishui Port, it was ultimately just a local power on the Eldron Plain with limited channels and connections.

The materials he sought were all treasures that master alchemists and apothecaries would flock to. They were considered rarities across the entire Dawn Continent and were not so easily acquired.

“Just do your best,” Anton said, setting down his teacup. “Find as many as you can.”

“Of course.” Harold nodded quickly. “Rest assured, sir, the Tulip Commerce Association will do everything in its power to search for you.”

He paused, then as if remembering something, he said hesitantly, “Speaking of which, sir… this Void Silver Crystal on your list… I do know where to find some.”

Anton’s eyes lit up.

Void Silver Crystal was a silver crystal formed at the confluence of an underground river and a special ore vein, shaped by the long-term erosion of the current and its interaction with the minerals.

It was as light as a feather, yet it could withstand a massive infusion of energy without breaking, making it a supreme material for crafting high-quality magic items.

It was perfectly suited to be the metal primary ingredient for refining the Condensation Pill.

“Where?” Anton asked.

“The Flame Trade Association,” Harold said. “About three months ago, the Flame Trade Association somehow acquired a batch of rare materials, including a few pieces of Void Silver Crystal. It’s not a secret in our merchant circles; many people know about it.”

He paused before adding, “However, I’m not sure if they have any left. But knowing the Flame Trade Association’s style, they would most likely hoard something like that and not sell it easily.”

Anton fell silent for a moment, his expression turning a little strange.

Aside from procuring materials, he had come to Bishui Port with the intention of settling an old score with the Flame Trade Association.

It was quite a coincidence that the Flame Trade Association happened to have Void Silver Crystal.

A thought instantly surfaced in his mind.

’Since I’m getting revenge anyway, why not help myself to their stock while I’m at it?’

Anton lowered his gaze, concealing the sharp glint that flashed in his eyes.

“I understand,” he said, his tone as calm as ever. “I’ll find a way to deal with the Void Silver Crystal myself.”

Harold didn’t ask any more questions. He just nodded and carefully put away the list.

Anton didn’t linger and rose to leave.

After leaving Tide Street, Anton didn’t rush to deal with the Flame Trade Association. Instead, he took another path, heading toward White Sail Pier.

When he got there, he found that White Sail Pier had been cordoned off and was under lockdown.

From a distance, all the merchant ships were moored quietly in their berths, their sails furled. Their bare masts stabbed at the sky like a forest of dead trees that had lost their leaves.

Not a soul could be seen on the pier. Only a squad of Dragon Race soldiers stood at the outermost perimeter, their cold gazes scanning the passing crowd.

Anton stood in the shadow of an alley, watching the scene from afar.

It was obvious that, because of the recent attack, the Dragon Race had sealed off White Sail Pier. This was both to guard against another sneak attack from the Fallen Dragon Association and to put pressure on the Bishui Council.

White Sail Pier was the core of Bishui Port, with countless goods passing through it every day. For each day the pier was locked down, the lost taxes, shipping fees, and trade profits added up to an astronomical sum.

The members of the Bishui Council were probably pulling their hair out by now.

Anton withdrew his gaze, turned, and left, making his way to the Mistwood Tavern.

On the notice board by the door, Canglan’s wanted poster was gone.

’Looks like the Ring of Annihilation has finally given up on hunting him.’

’Well, it has been over sixty years. Canglan has never shown his face again, and there’s been no news of him. It’s not surprising they’d give up, assuming he died long ago.’

Anton looked away, pushed open the tavern door, and went inside.

A moment later, when he came out again, he was holding a roll of sheepskin paper.

On it was intelligence regarding the Flame Trade Association’s headquarters.