Clayton’s eyes sparkled as he watched the crimson-colored plant grow—so rapidly that its movent was visible to the naked eye.
It continued rising until it reached his knees, then stopped, trembling violently as if sothing was happening within.
Clayton imdiately panicked, fearing sothing had gone wrong.
Using his Entry, he discovered that the plant was supposed to grow even further, but it lacked sothing essential.
He examined it closely. At first, nothing stood out—until he caught a faint tallic scent and saw reddish stains on the stem. A mory clicked.
Without hesitation, Clayton retrieved a vial of diluted arowana blood and poured it over the plant.
Sure enough, monts later, the trembling ceased and the plant resud its vertical growth.
Clayton exhaled in relief—but the calm didn’t last. Soon, the plant trembled again, repeating the sa symptoms.
This ti, already knowing the cause, Clayton quickly brought out so boar’s blood and fed it to the plant.
It began growing once more, its form changing from a re sprout to a vivid, fiery-red magical grass. This ti, perhaps because of the stronger concentration of blood, there was no further stagnation.
Satisfied, Clayton nodded to himself. He couldn’t help but marvel at the power of his Entry.
Not long ago, he had taken a gamble in the market and won twice in a row. Many had witnessed his lucky streak and were impressed.
But on his third attempt, all he got was a lump of black soil—apparently worthless. Disappointed murmurs spread through the crowd. For many mages, watching soone else hit the jackpot was a rare form of amusent amid their stressful, spell-filled lives.
In truth, however, that so-called failure had been a misunderstanding.
Clayton had never truly lost. All three of his bets were wins—including the last one.
That black clump everyone dismissed was actually a hardened piece of Terra Preta—a low-grade, one-star magical soil rich in nutrients. Highly valued by magical farrs, it could greatly enhance plant growth when used properly.
Unfortunately, its plain appearance made it nearly indistinguishable from ordinary soil. Very few could recognize its true value.
Luckily, Clayton had his cheat-like Entry to uncover its secret.
Otherwise, why would he have gone to the trouble of packing it so carefully instead of discarding it?
Even Clayton had been skeptical at first. But now, seeing the results before him, all doubts had vanished.
The plant continued to grow after absorbing the nutrients from the Terra Preta and the boar’s blood. It stopped only when it reached eye level with Clayton.
He leaned in to inspect it and eventually identified its features.
It was blood sorghum—a magical plant especially useful for a Knight trainees like himself.
A smile tugged at his lips as he began tending to it. Judging by its condition, it would likely reach full maturity in just a few months.
Not only had it grown faster than usual, but the quality was far superior—even though the seed he planted had nearly lost all vitality.
Clayton was in awe of the soil’s magic.
"No wonder so many farrs are desperate to get their hands on this stuff... It’s incredible," he murmured in amazent.
He continued tending to the plant, occasionally smiling with satisfaction.
But just as he was getting comfortable, a commotion outside broke the quiet.
At first, the noise was faint—too distant to make out clearly. He ignored it. But the volu steadily grew until it was impossible to disregard.
Clayton wasn’t one to ddle in other people’s business, but curiosity got the better of him.
"What’s going on out there?" he muttered, stepping outside.
Outside, a group of tenant farrs were locked in a heated argunt. Nearly everyone in the area seed involved.
"What do you an I can’t join the hunt?!" Bravus shouted furiously.
Arthur, standing calmly before him, replied, "I don’t an anything by it. It’s just that our values no longer align. We can’t work together during hunts."
Bravus gritted his teeth. "Is this because I was arrested by the city? You think I’ll bring bad luck?!"
Arthur remained composed. "That’s not it. I just don’t think we’re compatible anymore."
"Tch! Hypocrite! You expect to believe that? Soone like you, pretending to be noble and righteous, turns cold and ruthless the mont soone becos inconvenient. If it weren’t for my perfu, would your harvest have been that good? If not for , you wouldn’t have hunted so easily! You ungrateful bastard!" Bravus raged hysterically.
Arthur frowned. He had hoped to part ways quietly, even if it ant cutting Bravus from the group. But the man’s words were too much.
"Watch your mouth, Bravus. Don’t make this worse," Arthur said, his tone sharp.
Bravus sneered. "Uncomfortable? That’s your problem! You think being leader ans you can do whatever you want?"
Arthur sighed. His decision was final—Bravus would no longer be part of the team.
But Bravus wasn’t done yet.
"Where do you think you’re going?! Leaving just like that after causing all this?!"
Arthur snapped, "What do you want, Bravus?!"
"I’m demanding what’s rightfully mine! I helped hunt, I contributed! From now on, I’ll lead this group! And you should apologize to !"
Arthur had had enough. "Absolutely not, Bravus. Don’t be ridiculous."
Bravus hesitated, rembering Arthur was a three-star apprentice mage. But that hesitation quickly turned to arrogance.
"What? Scared? Go ahead, kill if you dare!" he spat.
Arthur clenched his fists. Bravus was baiting him—and acting recklessly in the city could bring serious consequences from the authorities.
Arthur didn’t respond, which only emboldened Bravus.
"What’s the matter? Your silence ans you agree with , doesn’t it?" he taunted.
"No way!" Arthur shot back.
Bravus’s face turned red with rage.
Arthur decided to end it. "Listen closely, Bravus. You’re no longer welco in our group. The city may have released you, but we haven’t forgotten what you did. I won’t let you put everyone in danger again."
Bravus growled, "Fine! I don’t need your lousy group anyway!"
Arthur let out a sigh of relief—but it was premature. Bravus wasn’t done.
"But listen well! That harvest you’re so proud of? That was thanks to ! Without , you’d have nothing! So I’m officially resigning from your group! Anyone who wants real success, co with ! I’ll form a new hunting party—stronger and richer!"
A heavy silence fell over the crowd. People began whispering among themselves.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. Bravus was being shrewd—he hadn’t expected such a strategic move.
Bravus scanned the crowd, smug and confident, convinced he was born to lead.
At first, no one joined him.
Panic crept into Bravus’s face. He feared he might beco a laughingstock. Gritting his teeth, he shouted, "Anyone who joins gets an equal share of the harvest! You all know how powerful my perfu is! Without , Arthur’s group won’t get any more big hauls!"
So hesitated. Then, one by one, more began to waver—until the group was nearly split in half.
Arthur was stunned. He had expected a few to defect for profit—but not this many.
Bravus was elated. His arrogance returned full force.
"Hehehe... Arthur, I hope you regret casting out!"
With smugness in every step, Bravus turned to leave—followed by a crowd of opportunistic farrs.
As he passed by, he deliberately bumped shoulders with Clayton.
Thud!
Clayton stared at him, eyes dark with irritation. But Bravus only chuckled and asked arrogantly, "What’s the matter? Not satisfied?"
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