The entire sky was shrouded in dark clouds. Though it was midday, the sun struggled to penetrate the endless layers of clouds, casting an eerie, lifeless desolation across the gloomy sky.
Below lay a bumpy and seemingly desolate wilderness. But whenever a breeze brushed past, the soil trembled slightly, revealing faint, twinkling glimrs that blinked toward a cluster of gaudy, colorful, fluffy tents in the distance.
The tents were outrageously flamboyant, draped with strands of shimring decorations over their vibrant fabric, and emblazoned in bold Western Continent script were the words:
“Kexiening Circus.”
This was a traveling circus that road across various nations, and their performances weren’t much different from the traditional kind. Between the tents, rare and exotic animals were being led around by circus staff. Many perforrs, faces painted in flamboyant makeup, adjusted their fluffy wigs.
“Captain Colin, everything’s almost packed. We’re ready to head out to Bryan City.”
At the entrance of the circus, a clown-costud worker addressed a potbellied middle-aged man holding a cup of coffee. His hair was ssy and unkempt, his beard untad, and his suit barely contained his bloated belly, making the entire outfit look like a bulging iron barrel.
“Ah... If everything’s packed, get ready then... Hmm, but wait for the buyer a little longer. If they still don’t show, we’ll leave tonight.”
“Got it. I’ll go let the others know.”
The clown ran off between the tents. The man, addressed as “Colin,” rubbed his nose. The wind across the Bryan wilderness cut like knives—cold and biting—even for them, who had spent years drifting between nations.
Saint Nary was still the best place for human habitation.
Colin sipped his coffee and mused. That city had the finest educational system and healthcare network. The brilliance of human civilization was engraved into every stone and brick of that tropolis. For drifters like them, just entering that place made them want to kneel down and kiss the unnaturally clean pavestones.
Unlike this place, where business was conducted... and the buyer had left him hanging.
Colin glanced at the glittering eyes peeking from beneath the soil. But in the next mont, those sprite-like creatures scurried back underground.
His pupils contracted slightly. He turned toward the boundless wilderness, sensing sothing. In the distance, the quiet of the plains was shattered by the thunderous pounding of hooves.
A black speck appeared, galloping toward the circus across the untad field, no roads in sight.
“They're here…”
Colin’s plump... well, his middle jutted slightly forward as he finished his coffee, handed the cup to a staff mber, rubbed his hands together, and forced a polite smile as he stood at the circus entrance, awaiting the guest’s arrival.
Two black stallions pulled a carriage rapidly toward them. As the distance closed, Colin finally saw the man sitting at the front, reins in hand.
The man was dressed in an elegant, well-fitted Saint Nary suit. White gloves gently gripped the reins. Beneath his black gentleman’s hat was a strikingly handso and masculine face—cold, expressionless, and distant, adding a layer of aloof sharpness.
“Hisss!”
With just a light tug on the reins, the stallions reared back as if halted by so invisible force. They ca to a stop near the circus, panting heavily, hooves steaming.
Colin snapped out of his daze, ntally cursing, but quickly put on a welcoming smile and walked toward the carriage.
“Welco! A great honor to have you at Kexiening Circus. I’m Colin, the ringmaster. Pleasure, pleasure…”
The man took a cane from beside him and stepped off the carriage. His leather shoes sunk slightly into the soil of Bryan’s wilderness, squashing a curious little earth sprite underfoot. The ground quivered and raised a small wave, likely the sprite making its escape.
The man removed his hat and spoke calmly.
“Hello, Ringmaster Colin. I’m Fischer, here to fulfill a previously placed order.”
Colin studied the man, eyebrows twitching hard. Then he rubbed his hands and forced a smile, hesitant.
“Uh... I recall the deal was with Ohn of Feloren City, not... a gentleman like yourself. Unless you’re just here to watch our show? If so, I’m afraid you'll have to wait till we reach Bryan City…”
Before he could finish, Fischer tapped his cane lightly, smiling faintly as he corrected:
“Order, not performance, Mr. Colin.”
“Ah... well, yes, we have principles. And if the order is finalized, then we—”
“Principles?”
Still dressed in black, Fischer tapped the side of the carriage with his cane. A small hidden compartnt opened, and a bloodstained sack rolled out.
Judging by its length, it matched the size of an adult male—though probably not one as rotund as Colin.
The sack stopped right at Colin’s feet. Its opening parted slightly, revealing a pale, terrified face reeking of blood—undoubtedly the original buyer, Ohn.
Colin clamped his mouth shut, afraid the sll of blood would seep into his body and taint him. His eyes twitched as Fischer pulled out another jingling sack from the sa compartnt—this one overflowing with Saint Nary gold coins.
There were more coins than originally agreed.
“A-ah! Yes! Principles!” Colin gulped and clapped dramatically. “In our line of work, nothing’s more important than principles! Since we agreed on Mr. Fischer, of course the deal is yours, no question... hahaha, right?”
“Mr. Colin, you have quite the sense of humor.”
Still gripping his cane, Fischer looked at him with a smile. Colin hesitated a mont, then picked up the coin sack and checked inside. Once he confird it was all genuine, he deliberately ignored the bag with Ohn’s body.
As he said, he was a man of principle—a principle asured in gold, directed by his inner compass.
Fischer replaced his hat and said simply:
“Let see the rchandise.”
“Of course, of course, right this way, Mr. Fischer…”
Colin stuffed the hefty gold sack into his coat pocket. His bulging body distorted from the effort, but amazingly, the entire sack disappeared into his clothes—or more precisely, into the fat inside his coat pocket.
He might’ve even grown fatter. He belched.
“What kind of magic is that from?”
Fischer asked with interest.
Noticing his gaze, Colin smiled awkwardly and explained:
“Just a bit of sleight of hand. Can’t compare with real magic…”
Fischer nodded and dropped the subject. Even if it was real magic, it would be the type of secret trick such people kept to themselves. Not worth digging into—he only cared about completing the deal.
“Custor’s here—get ready to receive them!!”
Colin suddenly yelled ahead and clapped his hands.
At the sound, the tents ca alive. Curtains parted like giant maws, revealing the perforrs, steam engines, and strange beasts within.
Tiny elephants danced like mice in the perforrs’ hands. A spectral steam train wailed with ghostly voices. A female perforr took a deep breath and exhaled a torrent of fire into the sky, from which a humanoid figure leapt out and landed on the ground.
“They’re rehearsing... Especially the ghosts—we haven’t used the reveal powder yet, too expensive. We only use that during official shows.”
As Colin led Fischer inside, he introduced the circus’s signature acts.
Spirit Ferry Train: the locomotive was crafted using spirits to imitate a real steam engine.
Shrinking Magic: used to shrink massive beasts for performances.
Fire Spirit: the figure that erged from the fire was a mature fire spirit, the sa species as the earth spirits under the soil.
Fischer’s gaze lingered on the deep purple marks glowing beneath the perforrs’ costus, then he casually looked away.
Slave Marks. Once engraved, the slave’s life and behavior were entirely controlled by the mark’s owner. Every circus worker here was a slave.
Their master: the fat man beside him—Ringmaster Colin.
“They're all slaves.”
“Ah, haha, you know how it is... costs, you see,” Colin said, rubbing his hands awkwardly. “Ever since those council bastards passed the Shaen Proclamation, labor costs in the cities skyrocketed. Even entering the city requires a disease prevention stamp, blah blah blah... That kind of expense is no joke for a small-ti honest businessman like ...”
He clearly harbored resentnt toward the kingdom parliant and their Shaen Proclamation on human rights. His flabby cheeks jiggled as he feigned contemplation.
“What’s that line again? Those council bloodsuckers and their high-and-mighty crap about God, sothing about equal minimum wage for everyone…”
“‘We and our descendants shall honor God, and henceforth allow all adult laborers the right to equal minimum wage under this proclamation…’”
Fischer recited the law’s text word-for-word. Colin slapped his thigh.
“Yes! That’s it! D*mn council bastards!”
The proclamation protected all free and equal citizens of the kingdom, regardless of age or gender…
Except slaves and filthy demi-humans.
“We’ve arrived, Mr. Fischer…”
They had reached the edge of the circus, standing before a black tent. Colin rubbed his hands again and pulled back the curtain.
Inside, under the dim light of a faint firefly lamp, layer upon layer of iron cages held trembling, whimpering shadows huddled among filth and spoiled food. Glowing purple slave marks adorned different parts of their bodies, highlighting their features—clearly different from normal humans.
Fischer covered his nose. Seeing this, Colin bowed apologetically.
“Mr. Fischer, please wait here. I’ll have the rchandise brought out... Just like we agreed—five female dragonkin, correct?”
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