The alley was narrow and short. Fang Mo and Ren Xiuying walked only ten meters before they found themselves in front of a moss-covered stone wall.
Ren Xiuying's lips parted to speak, ready to voice her thoughts. But before she had the chance, a wooden door next to them—connecting the alley to the bar—groaned as its rusty hinges moved, ending in a deafening slam as wood met stone.
Four muscular thugs appeared in the doorway. Leading them was Brother Huan, the man to whom Fang Mo had sold Ren Xiuying.
The sudden appearance of the menacing group caught Ren Xiuying off guard. She barely had time to react before three of the four surrounded her. One thug covered her mouth and nose with a piece of cloth, while the other two held her firmly, giving her no chance to escape or fight back.
Her eyes widened as she stared at Fang Mo. Only the sound of her muffled cries reached his ears as he stared back with a cold expression. Within a breath of time, she passed out, and Brother Huan stepped closer to Fang Mo.
"A pleasure doing business with you," a small pouch appeared in his hand. The sound of clinking coins accompanied his gesture as he offered it to Fang Mo.
Unceremoniously, Fang Mo took the pouch and tucked it safely inside his inner robes. He turned to leave without replying, but one of the thugs blocked his path.
"Brother Huan, why are you paying him? This guy looks pale and weak like a lady. We could probably sell him too. I'm sure some people with different tastes would pay a good price for such a pretty boy."
Fang Mo looked at the voice's owner. The thug was muscular enough to lift Ren Xiuying with one hand as if she weighed as much as a feather. A horrendous scar marred his sleeveless left arm. His grin revealed several missing front teeth, making him look more foolish than threatening.
Brother Huan's expression darkened. He marched up to the man and slapped him hard across the face.
"You idiot! Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"
He turned back to Fang Mo and offered a strained smile. "Young Lord Fang, I apologize for my subordinate's words. Yin Ling is new and doesn't understand our rules. We would never harm a customer. Our business is built on mutual trust."
The moment the words 'Young Lord' left Brother Huan's mouth, a cold shiver ran down Yin Ling's spine. There was only one person referred to as the Young Lord in all of Southern Zhou Province—Fang Ye, the provincial lord's only son.
But why would the lord's son come here personally to sell a slave? Yin Ling couldn't wrap his head around it. He wanted to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness, but didn't dare to move, afraid he would make Fang Mo angrier. He even held his breath to avoid making any sounds.
Fang Mo ignored Brother Huan's apology and walked closer to Yin Ling. He wasn't naive enough to believe in some bullshit rule about not harming customers. If these thugs knew that his identity as Fang Peizhi's son no longer held value, they would sell him to the highest bidder without hesitation.
Yin Ling's arms trembled, sweat pouring down his face despite the cold weather. Fang Mo's gaze shifted from Yin Ling's eyes to his waist, where a small knife rested in a sheath tied to his belt.
Fang Mo slowly unsheathed the knife and played with it, unbothered by the trembling man in front of him. The blade was fifteen centimeters long and gleamed in the sunlight, reflecting Fang Mo's face. Even an amateur like him could tell it was well maintained.
"This is a very good knife."
Yin Ling seemed to understand something from Fang Mo's words and nodded. "It is. If Young Lord wishes, you can take it. Consider it a gift from a friend."
Though he loved the knife, he valued his life much more. Since Fang Mo seemed to like it, why not give it to him in exchange for his worthless life?
At the mention of a friend, Fang Mo laughed. His laughter took the four men around him by surprise. It wasn't a happy laugh, but one filled with anguish, sadness, and madness.
"Since you say it's a gift from a friend, let me return the favor the same way my last best friend would have."
Before Yin Ling could understand what Fang Mo meant, cold steel pierced his right foot. Blood soaked his leather boot, staining it red, but he didn't dare make a sound. He gritted his teeth as the color drained from his face, with only muffled cries escaping his lips.
"The knife is indeed not bad. I'll allow you to buy your life with it," Fang Mo said, cleaning the blade on Yin Ling's leather pants.
"T-Thank you, Young Lord…"
Fang Mo slipped the knife into his boot and left as quietly as he had come. As for Ren Xiuying, he felt no remorse. Whether she had truly been involved in poisoning him or not, he couldn't care less. Fang Mo knew the woman was nothing more than a snake waiting to strike.
If he could get rid of a poisonous snake and make money while doing it, why wouldn't he? It was like killing two birds with one stone.
After leaving Brother Huan and his men behind, Fang Mo looked down at his hands. Because of the poison in his body, they were trembling slightly, and his face was pale.
I don't have any more time to lose.
He glanced around and spotted what looked like an herb store. He didn't have time to search for a doctor, nor did he trust this world's medicine. Based on his memory, it was far inferior to Earth's.
Inside the shop, a clerk sat behind the counter with his nose buried in a book. Fang Mo couldn't read the words, but judging by the perverted grin on the old clerk's face, it wasn't hard to guess the genre.
"I need Aconite, Belladonna, and Foxglove. Do you have those here?"
The clerk snapped his book shut and looked up. For a moment, Fang Mo's pale face and narrowed eyes made him feel as though he were staring at a ghost.
"S-Sir, I've never heard of those plants. Are you sure the names are correct?"
Fang Mo nearly slapped himself. Of course. Even if they existed here, they'd go by different names.
Fang Mo resisted the urge to groan and took a step closer to the counter.
"The first one has deep purple flowers that look like little hoods or helmets. Its leaves are dark green, broad, and deeply lobed. The plant is tall, and every part of it is toxic. Too much will stop the heart."
The clerk frowned, thinking hard. "That sounds like... Devil's Helm. Hunters use it on arrow tips. Nasty stuff."
Fang Mo nodded. "Good. I need that."
"The second has small, bell-shaped purple or dark violet flowers that hang downward. The berries are shiny and black. It can make someone hallucinate, dry out their mouth, slow their heartbeat, or stop it entirely. Even touching the plant too much can make you sick."
The clerk's eyes widened slightly. "Sounds like Widow's Kiss. The berries are used by some assassins."
"I need that too."
"And the third," Fang Mo continued, "grows tall and has spikes of tubular flowers. They range from pink to purple. The leaves form a rosette at the base, and they're thick and leathery. It causes arrhythmia."
The old man tapped his fingers on the desk. "We call that Starbell. Medics use it in potions to slow the heart..."
Fang Mo exhaled in relief. "Good. I need small quantities of each. Also, get me a mortar and pestle, along with some water."
"Right away, sir," the clerk said, hurrying off. Within seconds, he returned with everything Fang Mo had requested, including a jug of water. "That will be thirty copper coins."
With the little time he had, Fang Mo didn't care about the price, as long as he could pay for it. He handed the clerk a gold coin, who accepted it with a startled expression.
"Keep the change. I'll be borrowing one of your rooms."
Without waiting for a response, Fang Mo gathered everything in his hands, walked past the counter, and entered the nearest room he could find.
"S-Sir, you can't—!" the clerk protested, but Fang Mo had already stepped inside and shut the door behind him. The clerk sighed to himself, slipped the gold coin into his pocket, and quietly returned to his book, as if nothing had happened.