CHAPTER 78: CHAPTER 78

The moment Clayton saw those red eyes, a chilling sense of déjà vu washed over him. But the feeling didn’t last—he quickly snapped out of his daze.

Hesitantly, he glanced back toward Rodent to be sure, but once again, the red glow was gone.

Clayton fell silent, his mind now buzzing with questions he couldn’t answer.

Meanwhile, Old Man Vino and Rodent wrapped up their transaction quickly. Soon after, Vino returned to his seat, while Clayton and Old Man Wood remained in the awkward silence left behind by the earlier moment.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Vino shifted the conversation back to business.

"Alright, let me see the quality of the grain. If it’s as good as you say, I’ll pay a fair price."

Old Man Wood gave Clayton a nod, signaling it was time. Clayton agreed and began unloading his goods—thirty sacks of wheat, keeping four for personal use.

Without delay, Vino began his inspection. He scooped a handful from each sack, letting the grains run through his fingers. A genuine smile spread across his face.

His foul mood lifted as he immersed himself in evaluating the wheat.

Clayton and Old Man Wood exchanged relieved glances. The trip hadn’t been a waste after all.

After a thorough check, Vino approached Clayton and said, "To be honest, I’m very impressed with the quality of your wheat. But you know how it is—the market price in this city is only 0.5 lower-tier magic crystals per kilo. I can’t offer much more than that."

Clayton was initially pleased by the praise, but the offer quickly dulled his excitement.

"How about 0.6 lower-tier crystals per kilo?" Vino proposed.

Clayton stared in disbelief at the low offer. Meanwhile, Old Man Wood remained calm and composed.

Before Clayton could respond, Wood stepped in to speak for him.

"Oh come on, Vino. It’s not every day you get grain this good for brewing. Usually, this kind of quality is snapped up by nobles. If you pass on this, you’ll regret it. Besides, Clayton grew this himself. Just think—you could have a steady supply of premium ingredients. If you’re serious, offer him 1.5 crystals per kilo."

Vino turned to Clayton, clearly surprised. He had assumed Clayton was just Wood’s assistant—but clearly, it was the other way around.

Still, Vino was a businessman. And business was about maximizing profit.

"No, no. Even if it’s good, that price is too high for what’s still considered basic one-star grain."

"That’s ridiculous," Wood shot back. "This isn’t regular wheat—it’s silver-grade!"

And so, the haggling began. The two old men argued back and forth while Clayton stood silently, unsure whose side to take.

Eventually, they reached a compromise: 1 lower-tier magic crystal per kilo.

Clayton felt slightly disappointed. That was the standard rate for average wheat, even though his was clearly superior. Still, he accepted the deal—especially since Vino added a bonus: Clayton could choose one item from his inventory for free.

Before him now lay dozens of strange and intriguing items.

Seeing Clayton’s puzzled expression, Vino began explaining them one by one. There were scroll-making techniques, alloy-forging blueprints, specialty fertilizers, and more.

After some thought, Clayton chose a basic one-star tea processing technique.

The deal was sealed. Clayton walked away with 3,000 lower-tier magic crystals and a valuable scroll.

He and Old Man Wood said their goodbyes and were escorted out by Vino.

...

On the road, Clayton turned to Wood and said sincerely, "Thank you so much, Old Man Wood. If not for you, I probably wouldn’t have sold that wheat at all."

Old Man Wood smiled. "Don’t worry about it, Clayton. It was nothing. Besides, you’ve helped me plenty on the farm too."

"Well then, are you busy later? How about I treat you to a meal—to celebrate?"

Old Man Wood tried to decline but gave in after a bit of friendly persuasion.

Clayton took him to the same restaurant he had once visited with Henry’s group. They ordered a luxurious meal and relaxed as they waited for the food.

As they chatted, a commotion broke out in one corner of the restaurant.

Curious, they turned to look—and spotted Bravus, laughing and celebrating with a group of people.

Clayton narrowed his eyes, then sighed. "Bravus really has no brains," he muttered.

He couldn’t believe Bravus was out partying while the hunting group he’d led was dead. Did he feel no guilt? Was he not the least bit suspicious that the men he’d sent to kill Clayton never returned?

What Clayton didn’t know was that this very celebration existed because of him.

Bravus had borrowed money from that group and ordered them to kill Clayton. Now that they were dead, he no longer had to pay them back—so he celebrated, guilt-free.

Seeing Bravus’s smug face, Clayton clenched his fists. He still hadn’t had the chance to get his revenge.

But just then, the waiter arrived with their food, and Clayton’s focus shifted.

Tonight was about celebrating his own small victory.

Clayton and Old Man Wood quietly enjoyed their meal and drinks.

Afterward, they prepared to head home. Old Man Wood thanked him for the treat, but Clayton insisted he was the one who owed thanks.

They chatted a bit longer before finally parting ways.

...

Clayton didn’t go straight home. Instead, he headed to his house near the heart of the Outer Ring.

There, he began gathering all the ambient magical energy in the air and funneled it into his entry space. Even though no crops were growing at the moment, the mana could still be stored for training or used to quickly replenish his reserves.

Only after the energy was fully absorbed did he return home, clean up, and finally go to sleep.

...

A few days later, word spread across the city: the Winter Festival had officially returned.

With money in his pocket, Clayton’s thoughts immediately leapt to exciting—if perhaps impractical—possibilities: magic tools, spells, odd equipment, and more.

Buzzing with anticipation, he set off toward the Outer Ring’s central plaza, accompanied by his seven mini skeletons and Dingo.

When he arrived, Clayton was stunned.

The usually busy city was now chaotic. The streets were overflowing with commoners—and more notably, a flood of ragged vagabonds and drifters.

Clayton frowned—not out of disgust, but because he knew crowds like this always spelled trouble.

Still, after a while, he pushed those concerns aside and allowed himself to enjoy the festival atmosphere.

There was something refreshing about the variety of goods and entertainment on display—no doubt brought in by the influx of out-of-town visitors.

As he wandered deeper into the festival, Clayton heard a crowd cheering in the distance.

Curious, he approached—and quickly realized it was the ice stone gambling arena, a place he’d visited the year before.

At first, he wasn’t interested. He knew that finding valuable stones there was like looking for a needle in a haystack—even with his entry that could identify items.

But perhaps because he wasn’t interested, a strange curiosity began to stir within him.

"What if..." he thought quietly.