Carl furrowed his brows. It was true that selling to anyone was still selling, but he didn’t think Jinsley could afford the price.
"Iweni’s birthday is coming up soon, and I plan to buy it as a birthday gift for her," Jinsley said, "How about three pounds?"
The image of a girl flitted through his mind, making Carl hesitate. He then sighed with a touch of helplessness before slowly nodding. "Alright then."
"Cran," Jinsley said, overjoyed. She turned to look at the old man Cran, swaying her body and speaking in an alluring voice, "Can you pay for me?"
"Sure," Cran grinned, "I’ll pay."
Three pounds wasn’t much to him.
Old Nick witnessed this and shook his head slightly. The hairpin is worth far more than a mere three pounds; even three Gold Coins would be a bargain. This woman is cunning—she hasn’t spent a penny yet reaped such a large benefit.
But Carl must be equally aware of the hairpin’s true value. Three pounds... it really wasn’t worth the trip.
After the money was paid, Jinsley’s attitude became much colder. She said a few words before taking her leave.
"Darling, shall we go to your place or a hotel?"
"Then let’s have dinner first."
The two discussed their next moves as if no one else was around, their figures gradually receding into the distance.
Watching their departing backs, Carl found the situation ridiculous. So, her enthusiasm was all because of the hairpin.
Turning around, he looked at Old Nick. "I actually have another item here."
As he spoke, he took out a jade bracelet and placed it on the table, lighting up Old Nick’s somewhat despondent eyes.
By the time he left Badi Pawnshop, the sky had already begun to darken.
Carl touched the heavy purse and turned into a dark alley. When he emerged, his appearance had completely transformed.
A black cloak wrapped his body tightly, his features hidden deep within its hood, emanating an aura that warned strangers to keep their distance.
Divine Domain Fragment... quite convenient, he muttered under his breath as he glanced at Badi Pawnshop, then turned and entered another Consignment Store.
Gerry was greeting customers when he saw Carl come in. His eyes lit up, and he hurried over, "You’re here."
"Hmm," Carl nodded, his voice cold. "The usual. See the goods; if the price is right, sell."
"Yes, yes," Gerry rubbed his hands together, full of anticipation. "My friend, you always bring good stuff. I wonder what it will be this time. I’m looking forward to it."
"It’s still jewelry." Carl sat down and casually pulled out a necklace from his bosom, placing it on the table. "Take a look."
This was a necklace strung with dozens of gemstones, each sparkling with dazzling brilliance. The necklace’s overall design was simple yet elegant, with a smooth chain and perfect pairing. If it weren’t for the poor quality of the gemstones, it could almost be considered a beautiful, peerless treasure.
Gerry’s eyes shone as he held the necklace and stroked it gently. "Pity about the quality of the gemstones. But even so, it is an excellent work of art."
Hmm? Under the hood, Carl raised an eyebrow. Not because the price was too low, but because it was too high; it even exceeded his psychological price point. Small pieces of jewelry seldom fetched a high price, especially those of poor quality. A few Gold Coins was more common. His psychological price point was ten Gold Coins.
"That’s right," Gerry explained, "This price isn’t cheap. If you’re not satisfied, I can only say it’s regrettable." As he spoke, he placed the necklace on the table.
"No," Carl’s voice carried a hint of laughter. "I’m very satisfied. Twenty Gold Coins it is."
After seeing Carl off, Gerry pumped his arm forcefully, then hurriedly scooped up the necklace and darted toward the backyard.
"Ring, earrings, necklace."
Brey Foster, the youngest son of the Foster family, lay on a soft chair, fiddling with the necklace in his hand.
His eyes flickered as he asked, "Are these a set?"
"Yes, they are a set!" Gerry nodded vigorously. "These three pieces of jewelry all use yellow jade, and the cutting technique is the same. Among them, the yellow jade in the earrings is of the highest quality. The most expensive single piece is the necklace, which cost twenty Gold Coins. If sold as a complete set, it could fetch at least one hundred Gold Coins."
Although the ring and earrings were matching pieces, they were relatively small, and their acquisition cost was low. Their combined price was still less than that of the necklace. This deal could lead to profits several times over.
"Interesting." Brey Foster narrowed his eyes. "A complete set of jewelry fetches a higher price, which any sane person would know. So why would they be sold separately? And not in just one place, either."
The Foster family’s businesses spanned the entire city. They owned more than one Consignment Store and had dealings with others. These three jewelry pieces had been coincidentally discovered by subordinates who noticed that items acquired from different stores actually formed a set.
"This..." Gerry hesitated for a moment, then said, "Could they be stolen goods?"
A set of jewelry, sold in batches at different shops, by someone concealing their identity... it’s clearly illicit.
"Perhaps." Brey tossed the necklace he held onto the table and gestured for Gerry to come closer. "Next time he comes, remember to give me a heads-up."
Gerry’s expression changed slightly, and then he nodded. "Yes."
Carl was unaware that selling goods while concealing his identity would inadvertently attract the attention of others.
As for that set of jewelry... he had acquired it in batches and didn’t know it was a set when he sold it.
He had returned to Black City.
The crowds are dwindling, Carl thought.
He entered Laka Market. Seeing the sparse crowd, he shook his head gently as he approached Ayala’s stall.
Hmm? The unfamiliar stall owner made him frown slightly. Ayala isn’t here.
"Friend." Seeing someone stop, the stall owner immediately greeted him warmly, "Whatever you need, we can discuss the price."
Carl glanced at the goods on the stall and asked slowly, "Is the previous owner no longer in business here?"
"Um..." The stall owner’s smile receded as he sized Carl up. "As you know, in Black City, it’s nothing unusual for a person or two to die. Stalls change hands frequently."
That’s true. Carl nodded and started to move on. Just as the man said, death is commonplace in Black City. Ayala, despite her agile movement technique, was ultimately an ordinary person. Her death would be quite normal.
"Hey!" The stall owner hurriedly stood up, feigning to block Carl. "Friend, you’re quite impatient! I didn’t say she was dead! You’re looking for Ayala, right? I know where she is. Come with me. Let me just pack up my things."
Carl stopped. He watched the man pack up the items on the stall, pondered for a moment, and then followed.
"If you ask me, there’s nothing special about that girl Ayala. I sell the same things she did." The stall owner carried his bundle, chatting as they walked. "Won’t you consider my wares? We can discuss the price, and there’s a discount for bulk purchases."
"How much farther?" Carl didn’t respond, merely looking up at the sky.
The sky was growing dim.
They had already left the market and arrived at some deserted ruins.
"Almost there," the stall owner said, quickening his pace. "Just up ahead."
Carl stopped. "This is far enough."
He swept open his cloak, revealing the broadsword on his back. "Since you’ve lured me out here, there’s no need to hide. Everyone, come out."