The scorching sun reached its highest point in the sky, while its smaller twin had not yet disappeared behind the distant mountain ridge.

Today, despite the intense heat, the first slave market of the year commenced in the city of Dark Star. This significant event was accompanied, as usual, by extravagant celebrations and festivals, attracting large crowds of people.

Various slave traders flocked to the market in search of young and strong slaves, available at discounted prices. Merchants from different guilds hurried to sell their goods, while onlookers were captivated by the spectacles.

Many clans and sects also expressed their desire to participate in the grand celebrations, particularly due to the prevalent use of slave labor in local mines.

The Twilight Lord sect was among the participants. Its representatives actively roamed the market, scouting for slaves for their undisclosed purposes. Dressed predominantly in dark, shapeless robes, they stood out in the bustling trading rows. The sect had sent significantly more representatives to the market compared to previous years, attracting the attention of other powerful factions in Dark Star.

Observing the sect's activities, a man dressed in black turned to his young companion, Lady Blue, and asked, "Lady Blue, what do you think these 'twilight' people are planning? Look at how eagerly they are buying slaves!"

Lady Blue, a slender girl with light hair, shrugged her shoulders and furrowed her brow as she replied, "Who knows... We lost contact with our informants from the sect a few weeks ago. I have a feeling they are preparing for something significant. Perhaps it has to do with the cursed cave they recently discovered and are exploring?"

"I have a bad feeling about this. I hope nothing terrible happens," the man responded, recalling stories he had heard about the mysterious cave.

"Don't worry about the cave. The elders are monitoring the entrance, and if anything seems suspicious, they will report it to the leader immediately," Lady Blue assured confidently.

Her response somewhat reassured the man, and he nodded in agreement, continuing to observe the sect's representatives and their busy actions.

Time passed, and buyers continued to arrive at the market. Even for a large city like Dark Star, the number of people present was remarkable.

Meanwhile, in a pen containing the weakest and least valuable slaves, a young man regained consciousness after a long period of unconsciousness. Initially disoriented, he looked around, trying to understand where he was. It took a few moments for his memory to return, and a glimmer of despair appeared in his eyes.

To an outsider, the young slave appeared unremarkable, aside from a thick stripe tattoo on his forearm. With his dirty short hair and lean physique, he resembled a beggar from the alleys of Dark Star.

The young man spent some time observing the passing people in the slave pen, but their faces seemed obscured, like shadows or ghosts.

Gradually, the despair in his eyes faded, replaced by a sense of indifferent calmness. He had learned to suppress despair through sheer willpower during his time as a slave. Surviving in this harsh environment required no other option.

"Stop staring at the buyers. It won't change anything, and you'll only get whipped for it," an old man sitting next to the young man advised, offering him a cup of murky warm water. "Drink this. You were unconscious for half a day. I told you not to defy Gre. It's not as easy as that other guy who became the senior overseer."

"I understand, but I still struggle to comprehend what Gre wants," the young man replied, taking the cup and quickly consuming its contents.

The foul smell and taste of the stale water made his stomach churn, but he managed to suppress the urge to vomit, attempting to calm his rebellious body.

"The three stripes on Gre's arm are almost complete, and he's close to acquiring the fourth. If he strikes you now, it could be fatal. So, try not to provoke our overseer," the old man advised.

Struggling to control his nausea, the young man nodded in agreement.

The young man's name was Song, given to him by the old man. Song knew very little about his past. His earliest memory was of wandering through the desert aimlessly, without a single thought in his head. He simply walked forward, paying no attention to the path.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

At some point, a passing caravan of slave traders noticed the lone teenager in the desert. Upon discovering a half-dead person with no family or tribe, the traders couldn't resist the opportunity.

And so, Song went from being a wanderer to a slave. But his misfortunes didn't end there. The tattoo on his forearm, a symbol of strength and pride for many warriors, was of extremely poor quality.

The old man had never seen such a low-quality tattoo on someone Song's age. It only consisted of a single stripe. When asked how it came to be, the old man could only shrug. Perhaps Song's parents had neglected his upbringing, or maybe he simply lacked talent for martial arts. In any case, it was a mark of shame for the young man.

Naturally, Song's value as a slave diminished greatly due to his single stripe. That's why he found himself in the pen with the weakest individuals, facing a joyless future. It was likely that they would be bought by alchemists or masters specializing in Death techniques for experimentation. In the best-case scenario, weak slaves like Song could hope for work in the mines under the control of a clan or sect.

As thoughts of his future consumed him, a burning protest grew deep within Song's soul.

"I refuse to let my path end so foolishly! If necessary, I'll endure fire or frost just to regain my freedom!"

Throughout his time in the slave caravan, the boy never lost hope. He repeatedly tried to develop his own lord's tattoo, stubbornly practicing with the belief that there might be a chance.

"I have to strive, I have to train, and then, just maybe..."

Leaning against the bars at the edge of the pen, Song ignored the curious gazes of free passersby. He closed his eyes, focusing on his sensations. He imagined a thin stream of energy flowing slowly into his palm, feeling his strength wane rapidly. After a minute, a second, something tangible appeared in his hand.

Opening his eyes, Song joyfully saw a semi-transparent sphere, as if woven from air, resting in his hand. It burst a second later, releasing a stream of spiritual energy onto his face.

"It's still not good," Song concluded.

He couldn't maintain a stable shape for the spiritual sphere for more than a couple of seconds.

"Well, it's better than before," the old man consoled him. "But remember, the slave collar limits your use of spiritual power. Forget about it. I regret even teaching you the technique."

Not long ago, the old man had taught Song a basic exercise to control and comprehend spiritual energy. Song's desire to become a martial arts practitioner grew stronger, but the slave collar and his single tattoo strip hindered his progress.

Across the enclosure, Gre, the senior overseer, observed Song's actions. A twisted smile appeared on Gre's face as he witnessed the young slave's efforts. He eagerly awaited the end of the auction to explain to Song why practicing martial arts was forbidden for slaves.

At that moment, a representative of the Twilight Lord sect approached Gre, dressed in black amidst the predominantly light clothing of the crowd. The heat didn't seem to bother the sect representative as he inquired with a monotone voice, "How much for all of them?"

Gre was caught off guard by the unexpected question. He hadn't anticipated someone of such high standing taking interest in these weak and worthless slaves.

"Cough-cough," Gre cleared his throat and replied after a moment, "Four medium development stones, master."

"Keep them."

A pouch containing five medium development stones was thrown into Gre's hands, rattling noticeably. The overseer was astonished by such unexpected generosity. The unknown master didn't even bother to negotiate!

Overwhelmed by the impressive gift, Gre hurriedly processed the paperwork for the slave purchase. He created a spiritual parchment, capturing the image of each slave and an imprint of energy next to their names. Gre then formed an intricate seal on the scroll.

With the parchment and seal, the slaves would be released from the city along with their new owner. It was a standard procedure in Dark Star City to prevent slaves from escaping.

The sect representative calmly waited for Gre to finish the necessary procedures. Taking the scroll, he headed towards the enclosure where the purchased slaves were held.

"Stand up and follow me!"

The man in black gave a concise order, his tone cold. His words carried a hint of spiritual power that sent shivers down everyone's spines. The slave collars tightened around their throats, a reminder to obey their master's orders.

The slaves filed out of the enclosure, forming a line behind their new owner. The man gestured for them to follow and paid no further attention to them as he led them towards the exit of the trading rows. The slaves obediently followed.

Observers began to notice the Twilight Lord sect making numerous purchases. With each passing minute, they acquired more slaves, regardless of their quality. The sect bought both strong slaves with multiple tattoo strips and weak ones. They even acquired warriors with fully formed patterns!

"It's unbelievable, so many slaves bought... And the number of development stones... Incredible! It's more than ten thousand medium development stones! It's equivalent to half a year's profit for the clan!"

The onlooker observing the sect's purchases was shocked by the extravagant spending. The Twilight Lord representatives' actions didn't make sense to him.

"Stay calm. Even for the Twilight Lords, it's a significant sum. It seems they've completely exhausted their fortune today," Blue reassured, her voice tinged with amusement.

Unlike the man, Blue remained composed, well aware that such expenses put the sect in a precarious position. If their plan were to fail, they would lose their status as one of the Great Powers in Dark Star City.

"Lady Blue, you're absolutely right," the man sighed and continued, "We should report everything to the leader."

Agreeing with a nod, Blue turned and headed towards her clan's residence without saying a word. The man took one last look at the slave trading rows, observing the multitude of slave columns following the black silhouettes, before following his companion.