Chương 22: The Underground Bazaar

At the entrance of the Sector B-4 underground bazaar, Rowan followed behind Rad's bear-like figure, squeezing into the bustling crowd. There were no bright lights here. Only a few flickering magitech neon beams leaked through the gaps in the massive, crisscrossing sewage pipes overhead. The ground was slick with alchemical waste and puddles of stagnant water, producing a sticky squelch with every step.

The stalls lining both sides of the thoroughfare were mostly cobbled together from rusted anti-magic armor plating or scrapped mag-train cars. The merchandise sold here was bizarre and practically screamed insanity. There were half-new magitech cybernetics still smeared with dried blood and exposing raw mana-conductive nerves. There were cloudy test tubes bubbling with green gas—illegal underground hallucinogenic potions.

Someone had even chained a half-dead, mutant two-headed sewer hound to an iron post, hawking fresh mana-beast flesh by the pound.

"Don't let these crappy stalls fool you. Seventy percent of the black money and genuinely lethal hardware in the lower levels of the Seventh Abyssal Hive circulate right on this street," Rad said, keeping his voice low as he used his massive frame like an icebreaker to clear a path for Rowan through the crowd.

"But there are more scammers here than carrion rats in the sewers. Keep your eyes peeled." The two men moved forward with the surging tide of people. In front of a stall bearing a splintered wooden sign reading [High-Tier Magitech Cybernetic Accessories], Rad came to a halt. The stall owner was a tall, scrawny man whose entire face was covered by a magitech exoskeleton mask. Seeing Rad's oppressive physique and the heavily engraved circuits on his cybernetic right arm, the owner's eyes instantly lit up.

"Yo, big boss! Judging by the wear and tear on that right arm, you walk the path of a Cyber-Martial Artist, don't you?" Rubbing his hands together, the owner mysteriously pulled a box from beneath the counter.

"Take a look at this. Salvaged it just last night off a high-tier mercenary who died on the outskirts of the Deep Hive. A D2-grade 'Berserker Heart' micro Source Power Pump! Just graft this into your spine's magitech neural circuits, and a martial artist's instantaneous explosive power doubles! Only eight thousand credits!" Rad narrowed his single eye, his gaze falling onto the mechanical heart—no larger than a fist, covered in complex metallic mana veins, and emitting a faint red glow.

For a half-ironman martial artist pursuing the absolute limits of flesh and machinery, a "Source Power Pump" was indeed a premium item. It could vastly alleviate the chronic power shortages of high-tier cybernetics. Tempted, Rad reached out to pick it up and inspect it.

"Wait." A lean but firm hand clamped down on Rad's wrist. Rowan stepped out from behind Rad. Hidden within the shadow of his hood, his eyes were currently flashing with an incredibly obscure, deep blue luster. Having ascended to a Tier 1 true mage, Rowan's genius-level aptitude had come into play once more. His mental perception had already reached the mid-tier of a Single-Phase Mage, far outpacing his actual mana accumulation.

Taking the device in his hand, Rowan used his mental power to probe the "Source Power Pump." Sure enough, in his visual perception, this seemingly intricate device was absolute garbage.

"The outer circuitry is indeed plated with a layer of scrapped D-grade magitech metal," Rowan said, staring dead at the stall owner, his voice chillingly calm.

"But the internal load-bearing core is wired with the cheapest red-copper mana-conductive threads. The mana source runes inside haven't even formed a closed loop; there are dead knots of mana congestion everywhere." Rowan lifted his head, his gaze sharp as a blade.

"You wouldn't notice it during ordinary combat. But the moment you pump high-pressure mana through it for an overclock, the mana conflict will trigger a micro-crystal detonation within three seconds. Graft it into his spine? Are you trying to blow him into a high-level paraplegic?" The moment those words hung in the air, the stall owner's face darkened instantly.

"You... don't you fucking spit bullshit here! Where did a pauper like you get off pretending to be an expert?!" The owner waved a hand dismissively.

"If you can't afford it, get the hell out of—" Smash! Before the owner could finish, Rad's heavy magitech right arm shot out like lightning. Accompanied by a low, mechanical hum, Rad clamped his hand directly over the owner's face and hoisted his entire body into the air!

"The one thing I hate most in this life is people trying to scam me with scrapped junk." Rad's electronic eye, radiating cold blue light, stared dead at the dangling owner. His gruff voice was dripping with unconcealed killing intent.

"My brother says it's a bomb, so it's a bomb. What, do I look like a gullible idiot to you?" Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"No... I wouldn't dare... boss, spare my life..." The stall owner kicked his legs frantically in mid-air, the metal armor on his face groaning agonizingly under Rad's crushing grip.

"Pah! Bad luck." Rad tossed the owner onto the ground like a bag of trash. Without a shred of politeness, his heavy metal boot stomped the box into fragments, scattering the forged mana crystals and red-copper wiring across the floor. Witnessing this, the surrounding thugs and fixers shrank their necks back and automatically parted, clearing a wide path.

"You've got some skills, kid!" Rad said as he led the way, unable to resist looking back at Rowan with a nod of approval.

"Seeing through the outer shell to spot the mana dead-knots inside? That perception of yours is sharper than my modded D2 electronic eye."

"I'm just particularly sensitive to mana circuits," Rowan deflected casually. The two navigated through the chaotic, street-market atmosphere of the independent vendor zone and arrived at the deepest, most heavily guarded core sector of the bazaar. Here, the atmosphere shifted drastically. The rowdy mercenaries and thugs who stepped near the edge of this zone subconsciously shut their mouths, even lightening their footsteps. In the exact center of the sector stood a massive, specially reinforced metal pavilion.

Hovering above the pavilion were over a dozen holographic mana screens projected by micro-array discs, densely packed with scrolling circuit diagrams and text descriptions of various spell models. Visualization Channeling Technique, Hyper-Speed Mana Cyclone, Water-Moist Healing Art, Crimson Gold Bulwark, Frost-Chill Gauntlets, Lavith's Spirit-Chef Guide, Furnace Melding Art... All of them were D-Rank spell rubbings and fragmented technique manuals!

But in the Seventh Abyssal Hive black market, blatantly displaying so many spell rubbings required an absolutely terrifying level of power to serve as deterrence. Rowan's gaze swept past the dazzling array of mana projections and instantly locked onto a chair situated toward the rear flank of the pavilion. Sitting there was a middle-aged man resting with his eyes closed. He wore an unremarkable grey robe and casually twirled two mana grenades, brimming with highly concentrated elements, in his hand.

In this incredibly crowded underground bazaar, a three-meter radius around this middle-aged man was completely empty. Not a single person dared to step foot inside that invisible circle. Within Rowan's perception net as a true mage, this man's presence was blindingly conspicuous. It was an oppressive mana pressure as heavy as a mountain. The very air around him seemed to undergo a high-frequency mana oscillation due to his presence.

Rowan could even vaguely sense a perfectly harmonious, perfectly rounded aura radiating from the man.

"A Tier 1 Four-Phase Mage..." Rowan's heart sank instantly. He immediately retracted all his mental perception, terrified of drawing the man's attention. Tier 1 Mage stages were divided into Single-Phase, Dual-Phase, Tri-Phase, and Four-Phase. Reaching Four-Phase meant that closed-loop Source Runes had been etched onto all four facets of the Source Crystal Core! This was a terrifying existence standing at the absolute peak of Tier 1, with half a foot already stepping into the realm of a Tier 2 Track-Forging Mage.

In the Seventh Abyssal Hive, experts of this caliber were usually sipping tea in the Consortium's enshrinement halls or serving as mid-level officers in the military.

"Don't stare. Pull your eyes back," Rad nudged Rowan gently with his elbow, lowering his voice. His tone carried unprecedented gravity.

"Those are the 'Black Snakes.' The black gloves for the top three underground tycoons in the Hive. Looks like the Black Snakes are on rotation duty tonight. Strange though... why did they dispatch someone this strong as a watchman?" The underground bazaar involved astronomical profits. The syndicates allowed vendors to sell freely here, but naturally, they took a cut. The revenue was enormous, so naturally, the syndicates needed enforcers to maintain order.

"Never mind that. Come on, let's see what they've got." The two approached the stall. Rad's rough gaze swept over the spell models. For a fanatic like him who was on the verge of undergoing inner-layer martial etching, ordinary mage skills held absolutely zero appeal. Suddenly, Rad's electronic eye contracted violently, locking dead onto a dark red rubbing tucked in the corner of a mana projection.

[Heavy Metal Body Refinement Art (Experimental Version)] [Rating: D-Rank] [Description: Inner-etching martial technique. Utilizes specialized circuits to forcefully absorb high-energy radioactive slag and industrial heavy metal toxins from the deep hive environment. Uses them as fuel to reverse-forge the skeleton. Upon mastery, the skeleton will rival high-density alloys, perfectly supporting D1 military-grade magitech cybernetics and providing flawless defense against physical impacts of the same tier and below.] [Warning: Heavy metal toxins seeping into the bone will cause irreversible, acute organ failure. Must be paired with Life-attribute alchemical potions. Price: 3, 500 Terra Credits.] Rad stared at the two lines of crimson warning text, his breathing growing heavy.

"Boss, I want this one." Rad pointed at the dark red rubbing, his voice hoarse with excitement. The scrawny clerk sitting behind the stall, tasked with collecting money, paused while cleaning his fingernails with a dagger. He looked up, glancing at Rad's rugged, half-cybernetic torso.

"Big guy, you know how to read, right?" the clerk pointed his dagger at the projection.

"Read the effects clearly. All sales of this technique are final, no refunds. If you die in a ditch outside, we don't bury you."

"Cut the fucking crap. My life is hard, and I like the thrill," Rad grinned, flashing a row of pristine white teeth. He reached out and, through his thick tank top, gently patted the sealed box containing the giant crocodile meat tucked into the inner lining of his chest rig. Paired with alchemical potions and this mana-beast meat, as long as he could initiate the technique and boost his physical strength, his chances of surviving the Martial Artist Ascension would skyrocket.

For someone in possession of otherworldly mana-beast meat, this technique felt like a deadlock-breaking god-skill custom-made just for him! Without a second of hesitation, Rad transferred 3, 500 credits directly from his terminal and received the dust-covered, encrypted data crystal disc of the rubbing.

"Haa..." Rad gripped the data disc tightly in his hand, his eyes burning with a thirst for power. He turned his head, looking at Rowan, who was still standing to the side, carefully scrutinizing the other techniques.

"See anything you like?"