The Abyss is a treacherous place, with vultures and wild dogs lurking in the shadows, eyeing the passing prey. There's no law here, only the law of the jungle. That's the impression Sherlock got from the memories of his predecessor.
Sherlock stood at the door of his clinic at noon, surrounded by a hazy and dim atmosphere. Looking up through the mist, he could see a narrow strip of light. That was the sky of the Abyss. The Abyss lived up to its name—a narrow city in the great rift outside Calva City.
Narrow at the top and wide at the bottom, with cliffs hundreds of meters high, it formed a natural barrier, blocking the rampaging monsters of the wasteland. It was one of the few large cities on the Isor Continent protected by a non-magical barrier.
Chaos and disorder were the stereotypical impressions of the Abyss from the outside. However, under the control of several major mafia families, the real Abyss maintained a unique order. As long as you paid enough protection fees, you could do some small business in the Abyss, like running a clinic.
Bakka Street, where Sherlock's clinic was located, belonged to the Harriman family. Compared to other streets controlled by mafia families, it was relatively harmonious... except for the occasional orc fight.
Not far away, two orcs were fighting in the street. The one with the white knife went in, and the one with the green knife came out. The victorious orc bent down, snatched the money bag, and disappeared into the mist, while the other orc lay dead in the middle of the street, uncared for.
Well, scratch that. There was no safe place in the Abyss. Poverty was the best passport in the Abyss. Unless you were remarkable, few people were interested in poor beggars. Of course, you had to always be wary of desperate beggars. To survive, they would do anything.
Like any social structure, people in the Abyss were divided into different classes. The upper class included the four major mafia families and powerful individuals. They ruled the Abyss, mercilessly killing and robbing the lower classes.
Next were the middle-class people who survived cautiously under the protection of the mafia families by paying protection fees. They were also the "tender and fresh vegetable" class most favored by the upper class.
They were generally the owners of various personal shops in the Abyss, or criminals, mercenaries, and adventurers with some self-defense abilities...
Sherlock was now one such "tender and fresh vegetable." He worked hard every month to earn money and paid a hefty rent to the landlady, leaving only a few copper coins jingling in his pocket. In the Abyss, what was earned in the Abyss was spent. Don't even think about taking a single cent home.
At the bottom were the beggars. Many of them were forced into the Abyss after being persecuted in other cities, without the ability to protect themselves or earn money, and could only slowly die in the dark corners.
There was also a part of the middle-class "vegetable" class that had been poisoned by the addictive magic drugs distributed recklessly by the mafia, causing them to lose everything and have their bodies ravaged.
Of course, there were also some "salted fish" who had lost their dreams mixed among them, who were relatively harmless beggars.
Sherlock had the self-awareness to be a qualified "vegetable." He worked hard to make himself fatter and more tender so that the landlady would be happier when she "harvested" him. The primary goal was to get through each day safely.
Going out meant taking risks. Sherlock had done the math. In the past three years, he had gone out a total of 204 times and encountered danger 18 times.
Twelve times were pure robbery, and he managed to return to the clinic with only a piece of cloth to cover himself. Twice, he was knocked unconscious from behind and robbed of all his belongings, not even leaving a piece of cloth to cover himself.
Two more incidents were even more outrageous. One time, he was targeted by a female orc who weighed over 360 pounds. After being knocked unconscious, he was carried back to her home.
If he hadn't managed to escape while she was out hunting, he would have lost his innocence. The other time, he was abducted and sold to a certain club.
After enduring three days of training, he was deemed unfit due to a lack of endurance and excessive speed and was directly thrown out.
Sherlock: facepalm
This incident dealt a huge blow to Sherlock's self-esteem, and he went through a period of social withdrawal where he couldn't open his clinic for business. He glanced at his skin, pale to the point of being almost translucent from not being exposed to sunlight for years.
Luckily, that club was only open to female clients, or else he would have surely gotten dirty.
Looking up at the sky and estimating the time, Sherlock took the first step into the Abyss. Going out at noon would be relatively safer. This was a truth that the previous owner of his body had practiced.
Next to the clinic, there was a bakery. Sherlock spent four copper coins to buy two dark loaves of bread. He stood at the shop's entrance and hastily took a few bites, then took a big gulp of cold water, swallowing the dry and hard bread.
Only then did he feel that his body belonged to him. Stuffing the remaining bread into his pocket, Sherlock glanced left and right before briskly stepping into the mist along the edge of the street.
Sherlock needed to refine hemostatic potions and cleansing elixirs, which were vital in his daily medical treatments. He found the refining methods in his notebook and decided to give them a try. In addition, he planned to refine a moisturizing essence, which was a high-profit product. If he could establish a market for it, it would bring him substantial returns.
The alchemy materials shop was located on Tuck Street, about seven or eight blocks away from Bakka Street. Following the route in his memory and avoiding some dangerous areas, Sherlock arrived at the materials shop unscathed after an hour.
The shopkeeper of the materials shop, Harry, was an elderly goblin. Behind the thick lenses of his black metal-framed glasses were a pair of sharp eyes. Seeing Sherlock enter, he smiled and stood up from his recliner. "Dr. Sherlock, it's been a while since you last came. I thought you had been sold to some club again."
Sherlock's face darkened. This was the least desirable part of his history to be mentioned. However, he wasn't angry either. Harry was one of the few individuals in the Abyss whom the previous owner of his body could call a friend, and he was also a reliable supplier of medicinal materials. Although he loved taking advantage of others, the quality of the materials he provided was never compromised.
"Forget it, things haven't been going smoothly lately. Here's the list of materials I need this time." Sherlock took out a list from his pocket and handed it over, speaking in the usual manner they communicated.
Harry took the list and the cloth bag, measuring the materials while saying, "What kind of troubles have you been facing? Tell old brother and make him laugh."
"The landlady of my house has fallen in love with me." Sherlock casually came up with a topic.
"That's impossible!" Harry decisively shook his head, then turned to look at Sherlock. "After all, you're a low-quality male warlock who was rejected by the club."
Sherlock: facepalm again.
Engaging in idle conversation with Harry, Sherlock surveyed the materials shop. A long pole held silver bats the size of palms, a colorful giant snake skin wrapped around a pillar, green dried frogs piled up in a corner, and a putrid smell permeated the air.
Harry's materials shop not only supplied materials for magical potions but also various mage supplies. Behind the counter stood two rows of exquisite magic wands, and colorful magic stones were placed in individual boxes.
Two fist-sized purple magic cores, originating from a level five raging giant lizard in the wilderness, were the shop's prized possessions.
This was one of the most comprehensive magic materials shops in the Abyss, and also one of the wealthiest private stores. Harry had hinted before that this materials shop had the background of one of the four major mafia families, the Kade family. Therefore, no one dared to mess with him.
"Anything interesting happening in Calva recently?" Sherlock casually asked. Harry frequently traveled between the Abyss and Calva. It was said that he had an even larger materials shop in Calva. One important reason why Sherlock enjoyed chatting with him was to gather information from the outside world.
"There's nothing new under the sun. Those old guys in the council have made Calwa more and more boring. Calwa was not like this a hundred years ago," Harry said disdainfully.
Sherlock remained silent. Hundreds of years ago, Calwa had just been established and was full of potential. Naturally, it was different from what it was now.
"There's no big news, but there is an interesting incident, and it involves you," Harry said, pushing up the glasses that had fallen to the tip of his nose, and looking at Sherlock with a smile.
"Involves me?" Sherlock frowned. Could it be that there was still a legend circulating about him in Calwa?
"Your former fiancée, Elizabeth, the daughter of the Lord of Calwa, is said to have been arranged a new marriage by her father recently. The groom is the second son of Duke Cornwall, a high-ranking official in the Lance Empire," Harry stared at Sherlock's face, seemingly hoping to see some interesting reaction.
Sherlock's expression didn't change at all, and he calmly said, "Sounds like a good match."
In his memories, there wasn't a particularly strong emotional bond with his childhood sweetheart and former fiancée, Elizabeth. At most, there was a sense of humiliation from being rejected after his downfall.
Since attending the Calwa Medical School, Sherlock had been devoted to studying surgery. After graduating, he had been committed to medical reforms and had little contact with Elizabeth, who had always dreamed of becoming a dragon knight.
The engagement was arranged by their elders when they were children. Sherlock's grandfather was once a member of the Calwa council, and his parents were high-ranking mages. However, more than ten years ago, his parents died in an accident during a mission to defend Calwa from magical creatures, leaving him an orphan.
Seeing Sherlock's expression unchanged, Harry couldn't help but find it boring. He pursed his lips and said, "Sounds like a good match, but that second son of Duke Cornwall is notorious for being a playboy. Your former fiancée doesn't like him, so she announced that if the young Duke can defeat her, she will marry him. Otherwise, the marriage won't count."
"So, the marriage might be called off?" Sherlock found it somewhat amusing.
In his memory, Elizabeth, who had half-elven blood, had reached the fourth rank as a knight three years ago. None of the young knights in Calwa was her match, and even among the younger generation on the continent of Isor, she was outstanding.
"Hard to say. Duke Cornwall wields great power, and if the Lord of Calwa wants to enter the council, he will need the support of human council members. That's why he arranged this marriage," Harry said, shaking his head with a smile. "Who knows, it might turn into a drama of forced marriage in the future. It's nothing new."
Sherlock shrugged. Indeed, it was nothing new. But what did it have to do with him?
Right now, all he wanted was to focus on making money!
"All the materials are here. It's a total of 15 silver coins. I've deducted four copper coins for you." Harry handed the bulging cloth bag to Sherlock.
"Thanks." Sherlock placed the 15 silver coins on the counter, shouldered the heavy cloth bag, and turned to leave.
"Hope to see you next month," Harry's farewell came from behind.
Sherlock tucked the remaining two copper coins into his shoes. If everything went smoothly, he would be able to return to the clinic in an hour.
The return journey was the most dangerous part. Although the worn-out cloth bag contained strange things like silver-winged bats, dried green frogs, and seagull droppings, it didn't diminish its eye-catching appearance. Moreover, carrying dozens of kilograms on his back greatly restricted his agility and speed, given his petite frame.
But at this time, the return journey was relatively safe. Most of the Abyss creatures had just finished their lunch, making it their most sluggish time. When robbery became a profession, it inevitably followed a regular schedule.
Sherlock quickened his pace, hoping to return home as soon as possible. Then, at the corner, he collided with a sword.