Mist Empire’s Rise: Fake Noble to Fog Queen

"A Mystical Smith?" Troy's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

He hadn't even noticed!

Luo Wei cupped her chin thoughtfully. "You didn't notice?"

"Zachary has a light lower body but powerful upper body strength. His right arm muscles are thicker than his left, his fingers are heavily callused, and there are rupture scars on his right thumb web."

"He has a bow hanging on the wall. I saw him writing with his right hand, but for a right-handed archer, the calluses should be on the left thumb web. Even if he uses a sword with his right hand, it wouldn't cause that many calluses. However, it makes sense if he's holding a forging hammer."

"Both his bow and sword are made of fine iron with excellent forging techniques. The chains used in the slave market are also iron implements. Therefore, I deduced he's a Mystical Smith."

"When I asked you, you couldn't determine his magic level, but he showed no fear when he saw the magic runes on your sword. This indicates his magic level is not low."

"At least above yours."

"Zachary appears crude, reckless and rude, but if he were truly what he seems, he would have been curious about our identities. Yet he never asked once - that doesn't match his personality."

His lack of curiosity about their background meant he didn't consider them threats.

For a slave trader to remain so arrogant even when facing a Magic Swordsman's drawn sword, there could only be one explanation - he was stronger than Troy.

Or at least, he believed himself to be stronger than Troy.

"Zachary must be a high-level Mystical Smith," Luo Wei concluded.

A Mystical Smith's magical power was equivalent to that of a Mage or Magic Swordsman.

After graduating, an alchemy apprentice could become an Alchemist, also known as a Mystic.

Mystics were divided into junior, intermediate and senior levels. After breaking through the senior level, one would advance to become a Mystical Smith.

"He's a high-level Mystical Smith?" Troy asked incredulously. "But there's no one named Zachary Bunian on the Magic Association's list of high-level Mystical Smiths."

"There's no intermediate Magic Swordsman named Troy on the Magic Association's list either," Luo Wei raised her delicate chin. "Troy, clever people don't reveal their trump cards."

Troy blinked, thinking that meant he was clever too.

"You're not," Luo Wei saw right through his thoughts. "You're just a simpleton mixed in with the clever ones."

Others actively hide their strength, while he had no choice but to stay hidden due to being hunted.

Troy's emerald eyes were filled with confusion - what kind of simpleton was he? He'd never heard that term before.

Luo Wei murmured, "Troy, do you think a Mystical Smith can build ships? The kind that can carry over a hundred people and travel hundreds of miles in a day?"

Troy snapped back to attention: "You want to ask him to build a ship?"

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"No, I just want to know where he gets his iron ore from," Luo Wei said lazily. "It doesn't matter whether he can build ships or not, since there won't be any return journey anyway."

"Hmm, it would be better if he could build ships though. Once we get there, we can take it over and use it as our cargo ship for future transport."

Troy fell silent, wanting to mourn for Zachary.

Of all people to offend, he had to offend his employer.

The last person who offended her was still chopping trees on Demon Island!

Poor Zachary would soon be like Walke and the others, building log cabins while repenting for his sins.

An hour later, the four slaves had bathed and changed into identical new clothes before appearing in front of Luo Wei.

"Master."

All four knelt down respectfully, reaching to kiss her feet.

"Stop," Luo Wei frowned deeply. "I don't like the kiss of feet. Stand up."

The slaves trembled as they got up from the ground, heads bowed low, standing awkwardly and barely daring to breathe.

The kiss of feet was the highest ritual of submission from the conquered to their master, very popular in the church. The slave trader who taught them etiquette had said that if they performed the kiss of feet to their master, they would surely win the master's favor.

But why was their master so different from what the slave trader had said? She seemed to not like it at all, her tone full of disgust.

They trembled in fear - their master's disgust was a harbinger of their death sentence. No slave could help but be afraid.

Luo Wei sighed. These people would need gradual training.

She started naming them from the left: "Yves, can you drive a carriage?"

Yves was still shaking: "Y-yes, Master, I can drive."

"Then you'll be my coachman from now on."

Yves stared with his brown eyes, unable to suppress the joy in them: "Yes, Master!"

"Gal, can you cook?" Luo Wei pointed to the second youth.

She remembered he could dance - someone who could dance should have good coordination, suitable for handling pots and pans.

Gal could barely contain his excitement, his voice trembling as he answered: "I-I can roast meat, Master."

Roasting meat - that would do. He could learn how to cook other dishes gradually.

Luo Wei nodded: "From now on, you'll be my traveling chef."

She then looked at the two remaining young women, Belial and Chris.

After hearing her arrangements for the two before them, Belial had already given up hope for her future.

She could tell their master wasn't one of those nobles with a decadent private life. Perhaps because of her young age or pure personality, she wouldn't have them sing and dance for entertainment.

If Luo Wei hadn't bought them, they would have been sold to large brothels in the South come spring. With enough effort, they could have lived a life of luxury.

Now though...

Belial felt a touch of disappointment, but also strangely relieved.

It was as if they had regained a sense of being free people.

Belial waited for her master's judgment, but the master skipped her and called Chris's name first.

"Chris, can you do hair?" Luo Wei asked.

To Chris, this voice was like a blessing from heaven, her heart pounding with joy.

"Yes, I can, Master," Chris was ecstatic.

Luo Wei nodded: "Then stay by my side and do my hair from now on."

"Yes, Master!"

Belial watched Luo Wei with rapid breathing - only she was left without an assignment.

"Belial," her master finally called her name, "you..."

Why did she stop?

Belial's face paled.

Luo Wei paused - she seemed to have run out of jobs to assign, but it would be a waste of those gold coins if she gave her nothing to do.

Would it be a waste to make such a beautiful slave who could play the zither into a mere maid?

Someone who could play the zither must have nimble fingers, and Belial's fingers were very beautiful - perhaps suited for the art of tea.

Having a beauty prepare tea and play music wouldn't be bad.

Too bad she had no tea leaves at the moment.

After thinking for a long while, Luo Wei finally asked: "Do you know how to blend fragrances?"

After four months in this world, Luo Wei was tired of perfumes made from pepper and cinnamon. She could accept floral, fruit or wood scents, just not five-spice powder.

Using five-spice scented perfume - how was that any different from marinated meat?

Luo Wei looked at Belial expectantly.

Belial swayed slightly, on the verge of tears: "Master, I don't know how to blend fragrances."

How could a slave like her have access to expensive spices?

Luo Wei: "If you don't know, you can learn. I'll teach you later. For now, stay by my side as a maid."

"Yes, Master!" Belial's sorrow turned to joy as she hurriedly gave thanks.

Luo Wei stopped looking at them and instructed Troy: "Pack up, we're ready to depart."

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