Chapter 74: Blood for Sale II
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Bat Bat leaned closer, sniffed, then recoiled dramatically.
"Ew," it said.
Sekhmet ignored it and kept scanning.
Then he found a jar that made his blood eye pause.
A small vial, sealed with a silver rune, containing thick crimson blood that looked heavier than it should.
[Blood Type: Unknown (Humanoid)
Age: 87 years
Notes: Dense chaos residue. Summon compatibility: medium-high.
Extra Information: Can produce stronger blood minions.]
Sekhmet’s gaze sharpened.
He scanned another.
A jar filled with blood that had turned into a black stone-like chunk.
[Blood Type: Abyss Serpent]
Age: 900 years
Notes: Fossilized.
Extra Information: High summon potential if reactivated through chaos infusion.]
Sekhmet’s mind raced.
Some of these were not just food.
They were weapons.
They were resources.
They were future armies trapped in jars.
He continued scanning, slower now, searching for the extra information tag.
It took time.
The shop had hundreds of jars. Most were ordinary blood, meant for witches and criminals and people who wanted to feel powerful.
But after several minutes, Sekhmet found them.
Six jars that stood out clearly in his blood eye’s reading.
Six jars that carried extra information, not just notes.
He stood before them like a man standing before rare treasures.
Bat Bat sniffed excitedly.
"Good jar," it whispered.
Sekhmet nodded slightly.
He returned to the counter.
The old woman watched him like she already knew what he had found.
Sekhmet spoke first.
"Price," he said, gesturing vaguely toward the shelves. "How much."
The old woman’s eyes narrowed.
"For which blood," she asked.
Sekhmet did not answer directly. He spoke like a merchant.
"Your minimum," he said. "And your maximum."
The old woman’s lips twitched again.
"Minimum," she said. "One thousand chaos stones per jar."
Bat Bat choked.
"ONE THOUSAND," it squeaked, voice cracking like a child hearing the price of candy.
Sekhmet kept his face calm, but inside his mind, he clicked his tongue.
"One thousand for basic blood.
That is already expensive for normal people."
The old woman continued casually, as if discussing vegetables.
"Maximum depends on age, purity, origin, and rarity," she said. "Some jars go for one hundred thousand stones."
Bat Bat nearly fell off Sekhmet’s shoulder.
"ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND," it screeched.
Sekhmet grabbed Bat Bat gently to keep it from tumbling.
"Quiet," he murmured.
Bat Bat whispered, "Witch robbing."
Sekhmet muttered, "Witch is selling."
The old woman’s eyes glinted.
"You are not poor," she said suddenly.
Sekhmet’s expression remained neutral.
"Do not assume," he replied.
The witch snorted.
"A poor man does not walk into my shop with calm eyes," she said. "A poor man looks at the jars like they are food he cannot touch. You look like you are measuring value."
Sekhmet did not deny it.
He leaned his elbows on the counter slightly, posture casual.
"Then I will measure," he said.
The witch’s eyes narrowed.
"Speak," she ordered.
Sekhmet pointed toward a row of fresh jars.
"These," he said. "Boar blood. Lizard blood. Troll blood. One thousand each."
The witch nodded.
"Yes."
Sekhmet tilted his head.
"Why," he asked. "Boar blood is common. Lizard blood is common. Troll blood is common. Your prices are inflated."
Bat Bat nodded vigorously.
"Inflated," it repeated, proud it learned a big word.
The witch’s gaze sharpened.
"You talk like a merchant," she said.
Sekhmet smiled faintly.
"I am," he replied.
The witch gestured to the jars behind her with one bony finger.
"Blood is not meat," she said. "It is a risk. It is a collection. It is preservation. It is protection from spoilage and theft. You are paying for the fact that it is here when you need it."
Sekhmet nodded slowly, as if considering her logic.
Then he shrugged.
"Still inflated," he said. "I can buy fresh blood outside this shop for less or free." (He meant killing and collecting by himself.)
The witch’s eyes narrowed further.
"Then go outside," she said, voice flat.
Sekhmet smiled a little wider.
"But outside blood screams," he said. "Your blood does not."
Bat Bat whispered, "Good line."
The witch stared at him for a moment, then gave a low chuckle.
"Hmph," she said. "So you came for convenience."
Sekhmet leaned closer.
"I came for quality," he corrected. "Show me what you have that is truly worth money."
The witch’s smile vanished.
"You think my blood is not worth money," she said.
Sekhmet shrugged again, deliberately provoking.
"I saw only six jars that made me pause," he said calmly. "The rest are... ordinary."
Bat Bat gasped dramatically.
"Ooooh," it whispered. "Master insult witch."
Sekhmet kept his gaze steady.
The witch’s eyes darkened.
The air in the shop grew colder.
The red lantern glow seemed to deepen, as if reacting to her mood.
For a heartbeat, Sekhmet wondered if she would attack him.
Then the witch spoke, voice smooth and dangerous.
"I don’t know why you are buying blood," she said. "In the underground market, we do not ask questions. We do not care. Witches use blood for many purposes."
Her gaze slid over Sekhmet again.
"But you," she continued. "A human. A young one. I do not see the reason you need to buy blood."
Bat Bat whispered, "She is suspicious."
Sekhmet’s expression remained unreadable.
He leaned back.
"Maybe I enjoy the taste," he said dryly.
The witch stared at him.
Then she laughed once, sharp and unpleasant.
"Hah," she said. "Liar."
Sekhmet did not flinch.
The witch tapped the counter with her nail.
TAP... TAP...
"You insult my products," she said. "You bargain like you own the world."
Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed slightly. Although he had over ten million chaos stones from the orcs treasure.
"I bargain because my father taught me to," he said. "Never agree to the first price, even if you can pay it. Even if the money is nothing to you."
Bat Bat nodded like a proud student.
"Bargain," it whispered.
The witch leaned forward.
"You want better," she said quietly.
Sekhmet met her gaze.
"Yes," he replied.
The witch held his eyes for a long moment.
Then she spoke slowly.