CHAPTER 33: CHAPTER 32: "GAME RULES" AND THE NEWLY TRANSFORMED LADY ALLEN

Andre’s expression subtly changed, a glint of caution flashed in his eyes, but he quickly regained his calm.

As a prince raised in the court and accustomed to political scheming, he instantly grasped the true meaning behind Ron’s words.

"You want to get involved with the black market?" Andre’s voice lowered: "That’s not a wise choice, especially given the current situation."

Ron did not respond directly, but patiently waited for the other to continue speaking.

Andre sighed: "If it’s just for magic potion research, I can give you some advice."

He walked to the window, confirmed there were no suspicious energy fluctuations around, and then continued:

"The underground transactions in the Black Mist Jungle primarily occur in three places:

The safest is the special trading post in the ’Sunset Tavern’, where the guards ensure the privacy of the transactions;

Next is ’Lizard Alley’, though it offers no extra security, the variety of trade goods is much greater than at the Sunset Tavern;

Lastly, there’s ’Blackwater Bay’, the most dangerous place, which even occasional official wizards visit for items of interest to them."

Ron carefully noted this information, also noticing Andre’s familiarity with these locations, clearly he did not just hear about them randomly.

"There are a few things you need to be particularly aware of during transactions." Andre continued, his tone seasoned with experience:

"First, never reveal your true identity; next, bring enough magic stone fragments, but don’t carry them all on you; third, it’s best to find a trusted intermediary to make introductions, as the first transaction is the most dangerous."

He paused, then said with a very serious tone: "Most importantly, do not be greedy. Buy only what you truly need, and then leave immediately."

Ron nodded: "You seem quite familiar with this."

Andre showed a complex smile: "In the Black Mist Jungle, surviving sometimes requires... rather special channels."

He did not elaborate further, but Ron already understood.

In this cruel world, everyone has their way to survive, even the Thirteenth Prince, who hails from noble origins, is no exception.

"Thank you for your advice." Ron said sincerely: "I will be careful."

The two chatted a bit about recent events, and then Andre took his leave.

Alone, Ron began to sort through his observations and information.

Oliver’s sudden visit, the changes in black market potions, along with Marcus’s malicious gaze, all seemed to point to some ominous premonition.

But now, he was no longer that frail candidate apprentice.

The qualitative change in spiritual power granted him the ability to contend with higher-level apprentices, and his profession synergy system within him provided a powerful advantage.

"No matter what Oliver is planning." Ron clenched his fist, feeling little fear: "As long as I have time to develop, everything will be resolved."

However, the discussion with Andre about those black market channels reminded him of certain things.

Ron spread out the school quarterly newsletter he had recently acquired by chance, which recorded important events within the school over the past three months.

Flipping to the "Master Evaluation Council" section, he discovered some intriguing content:

The masters evaluated the apprentices within the school quarterly, and those who performed well often received additional resource allocation and guidance opportunities.

Yet puzzlingly, the next page of the newsletter listed apprentices recently punished for rule violations.

Some had even mutated due to using forbidden potions, ultimately executed or sent to the laboratory.

"Locke, Emily, Darrend..." Ron’s gaze stopped on these familiar names, feeling a twinge of doubt.

If the masters truly valued potential apprentices so much, why were these forbidden potions so easily circulating? Why did apprentices constantly take such risks?

He flipped to earlier newsletters and found this situation was not rare – similar cases seemed to occur nearly every quarter, as if the circulation of forbidden potions had become a part of the Black Mist Jungle.

"Is there some logic here that I’m not seeing?" Ron frowned, pondering carefully.

If those powerful official wizards truly wanted to completely cut off the circulation of forbidden potions, given their ability and authority, they could easily do so.

But in reality, these potions not only existed but seemed almost tacitly allowed to some extent.

Ron recalled Andre mentioning earlier that even official wizards occasionally visited the dangerous black market at Blackwater Bay.

"Could it be..." A bold thought surfaced in Ron’s mind: "Could the circulation of these forbidden potions be tacitly approved or even encouraged by the official wizards in some way?"

This idea was crazy, but it explained many phenomena.

Perhaps, in the eyes of the masters, it was a sort of selection mechanism – truly gifted and disciplined apprentices would choose a steady path of growth, while those untalented and impatient would fall prey to the forbidden potions, ultimately leading to their downfall.

"It’s like a game..." Ron summarized in his heart, "A ’promotion elimination game’ with rules set by the masters."

They hope for talented newcomers to emerge within the school, yet do not want the environment to be too comfortable, causing apprentices to lack a sense of crisis.

Moderate danger and competition can actually inspire a stronger desire for survival and progress.

Previously, Ron had oversimplified it as the oppression of the weak by the strong, but now it seemed that things were far more complicated.

Since this is the case, the risk of being caught as a test subject might not be as high as imagined, especially if he demonstrates enough potential and self-discipline.

Those Wizards would rather see him grow into a future colleague than be reduced to a test material devoid of thinking ability.

Ron took out Darrend’s notebook, ready to first look at the concept of Sound Wave Magic.

Since Oliver showed interest in this, then this magic might become key in future confrontations.

The research continued uninterrupted for several hours, and the sky gradually darkened.

Ron rubbed his eyes and stood up, deciding to take a trip to the Herb Store.

One reason was to inform Lady Allen that he had been released from confinement early, another was to ask this experienced old pharmacist some questions, especially regarding Oliver and higher-tier Meditation Techniques.

The slightly reddened sunset cast an eerie glow over the Black Mist Jungle, and the crowd in the market had thinned significantly.

When Ron reached the front of the Herb Store, he found the door tightly shut, with twisting vines forming the words "Closed for Business".

Ron found it strange; normally Lady Allen’s Herb Store wouldn’t be closed yet.

He was about to turn away when his footsteps suddenly halted.

The heightened perception brought by advancing as an apprentice allowed him to keenly sense the unusual activity of magic behind the door.

It wasn’t any dangerous fluctuation, but certainly not the calm expected after closing.

After hesitating for a moment, Ron gently knocked on the door.

"Who?" A tired and aged voice sounded from inside; it was the familiar voice of Lady Allen.

"It’s me, Ron," he replied softly.

A brief silence followed the door, then came a barely audible sigh.

"I’m very busy right now, if you have something, come back tomorrow morning."

Ron could detect a well-hidden irritation in Lady Allen’s voice. As someone with basic emotional intelligence, he didn’t want to trouble her.

"I understand, ma’am. I’ll visit again tomorrow morning." Ron said wisely, already turning to leave.

"Wait..." Lady Allen suddenly changed her mind, with a hint of hesitation in her voice, "You might as well come in, since you’re already here."

Accompanied by a sound of metal scraping, the tightly shut store door opened automatically.

Ron stepped cautiously inside, the familiar scent of herbs wafting towards him, mixed with a strange fragrance he had never smelled, somewhat like night jasmine, yet with a richer, sweet aroma.

The lighting inside was dimmer than usual, with only a few weak magic crystal lamps flickering, giving the space a hazy ambiance.

As soon as Ron walked in, his gaze was immediately drawn to the figure behind the counter—a young woman standing there, arranging the accounts.

She had stunning long pink-purple curly hair cascading down like a waterfall, shimmering with a dreamlike brilliance in the lamplight.

The woman’s profile was exquisite and delicate, with porcelain-like fair skin exuding a healthy, glossy sheen. Her large and bright eyes glittered like jewels.

Most striking was her high, proud nose, conveying an elegant curve that seemed almost unreal in its perfection when combined with her face.

"Who are you...?" Ron hesitated somewhat, searching the store for Lady Allen’s figure.

The woman wore only a loosely fitting silk nightgown, with the neckline and cuffs slightly falling, revealing patches of fair skin and a breathtakingly voluptuous figure.

That casual and unwitting posture was even deadlier than deliberate charm, starkly different from the image of the old witch with wrinkles, a hooked nose, and a hunched back that Ron had in his memory.

"What’s the matter, little one? Don’t recognize me?" The woman turned her face partially and spoke in a familiar tone that sent chills down his spine.

Those deep green eyes—they were precisely Lady Allen’s eyes!

"Lady Allen?!" Ron could hardly believe his judgment, but those eyes were unmistakable.

The woman let out a light chuckle, exactly the slightly raspy aged laugh of Lady Allen.

Yet now it came from the mouth of a young woman who appeared to be only eighteen or nineteen, causing an intense sense of discord.

"It seems my transformation has quite shocked you." She set the accounts aside, placed her hands on the counter, and leaned forward slightly, causing the neckline of her nightgown to fall even more.