CHAPTER 79: CHAPTER 79

The more Clayton thought about it, the deeper he sank into his emotions. Without realizing it, a mix of pride and greed began to swell inside him.

After standing still for a moment, he finally made his way toward the ice stone gambling stalls.

When he arrived, the place was buzzing with people from all walks of life. Shouts filled the air—some excited, others anxious, doubtful, confident, desperate, or ecstatic. A whirlwind of emotions clashed in that chaotic space.

"Ahhh, damn it! My money!"

"Mister! Mister! I want this one! Hurry up!"

"I pick this one! It’s gotta be a jackpot!"

Most of the gamblers looked rough—wearing ragged clothes and carrying tired faces. It was clear they were drifters, people with little to their names.

But the ice stone vendors were all smiles. They knew—these were the easiest people to bait. Desperate souls chasing quick riches, easily swayed by hope. Unlike the wealthy, who gambled for fun, these folks were gambling out of need.

Clayton steadied himself. He didn’t want to get swept up in the same obsession. He refused to let greed cloud his judgment.

Once composed, he began examining the mysterious ice stones on display.

At first glance, they all looked the same—white, smooth, and cold to the touch. Yet some people stared at them as if they could see hidden treasure inside. Clayton figured most of them were bluffing.

He observed the stones for quite some time but felt none of them were "right."

Unsettled by the atmosphere, he moved on to another stall.

He wandered from one vendor to another, but nothing caught his attention. Doubt began to creep in.

Was there really nothing valuable in this entire festival?

Still clinging to a shred of optimism, he kept searching... until he finally gave up—temporarily.

He decided to take a break and buy something warm for himself and Dingo.

He stopped at a stall selling hot chocolate milk.

"One hot chocolate milk for me, and one for my dog, please."

The vendor nodded and got to work. But just as Clayton reached for his pouch of magic sand crystals, someone bumped into him from behind.

The pouch slipped from his hand and scattered into the sandy ground.

Panic set in. He dropped to the ground and started searching. Magic sand crystals were, after all, exactly that—sand. Losing them in a place like this was a nightmare.

Dingo and the mini skeletons joined in, helping him sift through the ground.

Eventually, they found it. But as Clayton crouched to retrieve the pouch, something else caught his eye—tucked beneath one of the nearby stalls was a single, half-buried ice stone.

He froze.

Just then, the hot chocolate vendor called out, assuming Clayton was trying to skip payment.

"Hey! You haven’t paid yet!"

"Ah, sorry! I dropped my money earlier!" Clayton called back, quickly paying for the drinks.

He handed one to Dingo, then rushed back to the spot where he’d seen the stone.

The stall was quiet, run by a disheveled, half-asleep vendor. Ice stones were scattered across the table like junk.

"How much for this one?" Clayton asked, pointing to the stone he’d seen.

"Ten lower-tier crystals," the vendor mumbled without even looking.

Clayton paid immediately. Once the stone was in hand, he moved to a quiet corner—he didn’t want a repeat of last year’s public incident.

He focused his mana and began chanting. A small swirl of water formed above his palm.

Crack!

The ice shattered, revealing a small, worn-looking object inside.

At first, Clayton frowned. But as he examined it more closely, his eyes lit up.

"Heh... Looks like today’s my lucky day."

It was a small jar, about the size of his palm. But it wasn’t just any jar—it contained a storage space of about two cubic meters.

More importantly, its main function was preservation. Or more accurately: hibernation

. Time inside the jar essentially stopped—perfect for storing living plants or small animals without decay.

It was incredibly valuable, especially for adventurers who collected magical herbs or creatures. Being able to deliver them alive—rather than dried or dead—could multiply their value several times over.

Clayton couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret.

If only I had this when growing rune grass... maybe things would’ve turned out differently.

But there was no point dwelling on the past. He was just grateful for the stroke of luck.

Feeling re-energized, he resumed hunting for more treasures.

Unfortunately, the crowd had grown denser. The festival now felt like a packed night market. Moving through the swarm of people became difficult.

Still, Clayton pushed on. He knew real treasures were rare. He had to be patient.

Just as he was about to check another stall, someone bumped into him.

He didn’t think much of it—it had happened plenty of times that day.

But then Dingo barked sharply. He barked again—this time running off in one direction and looking back urgently.

Clayton was confused at first—until he instinctively checked his belongings.

His spatial pouch was gone.

Panic hit him like a thunderbolt.

He spun around, then turned to Dingo, who barked once more and sprinted ahead.

Clayton instantly understood and gave chase.

Dingo, small and nimble, wove through the crowd with ease. Clayton, on the other hand, struggled.

"Excuse me!"

"Coming through!"

"Sorry!"

Still, some people shouted back:

"Watch it!"

"Damn brat!"

Clayton didn’t argue. He was already in the wrong and didn’t want more trouble.

His only focus was catching up to Dingo—and the thief.

But the crowd was too dense. Despite his effort, Dingo eventually disappeared from view.

Clayton’s heart sank—not because of the lost pouch, but because he’d lost sight of his dog.

Just as despair began to creep in, he heard a familiar bark in the distance.

He turned instantly and fought his way toward the sound, pushing through the sea of people.

After a difficult struggle, he finally reached the source—where he saw a man limping, dragging one leg awkwardly as if stuck to the ground.

It was an odd sight. Almost like his foot had sunk into the earth.

Clayton scanned the area frantically.

Where’s Dingo?

Then, a familiar yellow snout popped up from the ground.

"Woof woof!"

Clayton smiled with relief. He understood now—Dingo had tunneled underground and latched onto the thief’s leg, anchoring him in place.

"Good boy," Clayton said with a proud grin.

"Woof woof~"

Now he turned his attention to the thief. The man was short and skinny, dressed entirely in black. At first glance, he looked like a teenager—but his skin hinted at someone older.

He was still gripping Clayton’s spatial pouch.

Clayton stepped forward to reclaim it. In Sunlight City, thieves were treated harshly—killing a pickpocket wasn’t even considered a crime.

But just as he closed the distance, the thief glanced sideways. Though he pretended to be stuck, he had already slipped his foot free.

And before Clayton could react, the thief suddenly whipped his left hand forward, throwing a dagger, while slashing with his right hand.

Clayton froze—caught completely off guard.

The thief grinned, eyes full of murderous intent.

"Die, you bastard."