Andrey's expression subtly shifted. A flicker of alertness flashed through his eyes before he quickly composed himself.
As a prince raised in the royal court and well-versed in political schemes, he immediately caught the underlying meaning in Robb's words.
"You want to approach the black market?" Andrey's voice dropped a notch. "That's not a wise choice, especially under current circumstances."
Robb didn't respond directly, instead waiting patiently for Andrey to continue.
Andrey sighed. "If it's just for potion research, I might be able to give you some advice."
He walked to the window, checked for any suspicious energy fluctuations, and only then continued:
"There are three main black market hubs in the Black Mist Forest:
The safest is the special exchange at the 'Sunset Tavern,' where the guards ensure privacy during transactions.
Then there's 'Lizard Alley'—less protection, but a much wider range of items than the Sunset Tavern.
The most dangerous is 'Blackwater Bay,' where even official wizards are rumored to occasionally seek out items of interest."
Robb carefully took note of this information, also noticing Andrey's familiarity with these places—clearly, he spoke from experience, not hearsay.
"There are a few key rules for trading," Andrey went on, his tone reflecting his seasoned experience:
"First, never reveal your true identity.
Second, bring enough magic crystals, but never carry them all on you.
Third, it's best to have a trustworthy intermediary vouch for you—first-time trades are the riskiest."
He paused, then said in a solemn tone, "Most importantly, don't be greedy. Only buy what you truly need, then leave immediately."
Robb nodded. "Sounds like you've been through this before."
Andrey gave a complex smile. "To survive in the Black Mist Forest, sometimes... unconventional means are necessary."
He didn't elaborate, but Robb understood.
In this ruthless world, everyone had their own way of surviving—even the noble Thirteenth Prince was no exception.
"Thanks for the advice," Robb said sincerely. "I'll be careful."
After chatting briefly about recent events, Andrey took his leave.
Alone again, Robb began organizing his thoughts and observations.
Oliver's sudden visit, the shifting black market for potions, and the malicious gleam in Marcus's eyes—all pointed toward something ominous.
But he was no longer the weak, novice apprentice of the past.
His spiritforce had transformed, giving him the strength to contend with higher-level apprentices, and the occupational synergy system within him was a powerful trump card.
"Whatever Oliver's planning," Robb muttered, clenching his fist, "as long as I have time to grow, I can handle it."
The black market routes Andrey mentioned reminded him of something.
He pulled out the academic quarterly bulletin he had come across recently, which detailed major events in the academy over the past three months.
Flipping to the "Mentor Evaluation Council" section, he found something interesting:
Each quarter, the mentors evaluated all apprentices, and those who performed exceptionally were given additional resources and mentorship.
But curiously, the following page listed apprentices who had been punished for rule violations.
Some had even mutated after consuming forbidden potions—ultimately executed or sent to laboratories.
"Locke, Emily, Darude..." Robb's eyes lingered on these familiar names, a thread of suspicion stirring within him.
If the mentors truly valued promising apprentices, why were banned potions still so easily available? Why did so many risk it?
Flipping back through earlier bulletins, he found that this wasn't rare—similar cases appeared nearly every quarter. The circulation of forbidden potions seemed ingrained in Black Mist Forest life.
"Is there a logic here I'm missing?" Robb frowned in thought.
If the powerful, official wizards really wanted to eliminate illegal potions, they easily could.
Yet these potions not only existed but seemed to be tolerated to a degree.
He recalled Andrey's mention of Blackwater Bay—how even high-level wizards visited it.
"Could it be..." A bold thought crossed Robb's mind. "Could the flow of these forbidden potions be something the official wizards tacitly allow—or even encourage?"
It sounded crazy, but it explained a lot.
Perhaps in the mentors' eyes, this was a filtering mechanism—those with true talent and discipline would grow steadily, while the talentless and impatient would fall into temptation and destroy themselves.
"It's like a game," Robb concluded internally, "a 'promotion and elimination game' orchestrated by the mentors."
They wanted new talent to emerge but didn't want a too-comfortable environment that dulled ambition.
Moderate danger and competition might actually spark greater survival instincts and drive.
He had once viewed the academy as a place where the strong crushed the weak, but now it seemed more complicated.
In that case, his chances of being turned into an experiment might not be as high as he feared—especially if he showed enough promise and self-control.
Those wizards would much rather see him grow into a peer than waste him as a thoughtless test subject.
He pulled out Darude's notebook and decided to examine the sonic spell theory.
Since Oliver had shown interest in it, the spell might be a key to future confrontations.
He threw himself into research for several hours, the sky gradually darkening outside.
Rubbing his eyes, Robb stood up and decided to visit the herbal shop.
Partly to inform Madam Elena he was released early from confinement, and partly to ask the experienced apothecary some questions—especially about Oliver and advanced meditation techniques.
A reddish sunset cast an eerie glow over the Black Mist Forest. The marketplace was thinning out.
When Robb arrived at the herb shop, he found the door tightly shut. Twisting vines on the door formed the words: "Closed for the Day."
That was odd. The shop usually didn't close this early.
Just as he was about to leave, he paused.
His heightened senses as an advanced apprentice picked up abnormal magical activity behind the door.
It wasn't dangerous, but definitely not what you'd expect from a closed shop.
After a brief hesitation, Robb knocked gently.
"Who is it?" came a tired, elderly voice—Madam Elena's familiar tone.
"It's me, Robb," he replied softly.
There was a short silence, followed by a faint sigh.
"I'm busy right now. Come back tomorrow morning."
Robb could sense a well-concealed irritation in her voice. Not wanting to impose, he nodded.
"Understood, Madam. I'll return tomorrow," he said politely and turned to leave.
"Wait…" Madam Elena's voice called out hesitantly. "Come in, since you're already here."
With a soft metallic scraping, the door opened on its own.
Robb cautiously stepped inside. The usual scent of herbs filled the air—now mixed with a strange fragrance he couldn't place. It reminded him of night jasmine, but sweeter, heavier.
The lighting was dimmer than usual. Only a few faint magelight crystals flickered, casting a dreamlike glow.
As he entered, his gaze was instantly drawn to the figure behind the counter—a young woman organizing ledgers.
She had stunning long, wavy, pinkish-purple hair cascading like a waterfall, shimmering under the dim lights.
Her profile was striking—porcelain skin with a healthy glow, large gemlike eyes, and a proud, elegant nose that gave her an almost surreal beauty.
"Huh? Who are you…" Robb asked cautiously, eyes scanning the shop for Madam Elena.
The woman was wearing only a loose silk nightgown, the collar and sleeves slipping slightly, revealing smooth, pale skin and a dangerously seductive figure.
That kind of effortless allure—unaware yet deadly—was even more overwhelming than deliberate seduction. It was nothing like the wrinkled, hunched crone with a hooked nose he remembered as Madam Elena.
"What's wrong, little one? Don't recognize me?" the young woman said, half-turning with a voice that made Robb's hair stand on end.
Those emerald-green eyes—undeniably Madam Elena's signature eyes.
"Madam Elena?!" Robb couldn't believe it—but those eyes were unmistakable.
She let out a soft chuckle, the same raspy, aged laugh he knew so well.
But coming from the mouth of someone who looked barely eighteen, it was disturbingly surreal.
"Looks like my new look shocked you," she said, putting down the ledger and leaning forward over the counter—her loose collar dropping even more.
Author's Note: Madam Elena's character is inspired by Genkai from Yu Yu Hakusho—any old fans still remember her?