Chapter 86: Curry-Flavored New Delhi
George was suspicious that the Mediterranean mage was having fun at his expense. A heartless mage like him was likely not a good person. It was very possible he had given a wrong address just to play a trick.
After much effort, the dwelling of the New Delhi mage they were searching for was right in front of them. A two-story building that lacked maintenance, with mold on the walls and broken windows, looked as if it had been abandoned for nearly a hundred years. If it weren’t for the smell of curry coming from inside, George would have suspected it was inhabited only by homeless people.
This legendary abode of the New Delhi mage was located in a chaotic area. A mage capable of breaking slave contracts would surely be well-versed in such contracts, and someone knowledgeable in slave contracts would undoubtedly have a place in this dark city of Shade Forest.
“George, we didn’t take a wrong turn, right? This place looks like it could be used to shoot a horror movie.”
A clear voice from Ji Ma interjected.
George didn’t know what she meant by “horror movie.” Perhaps it was because of the inherited memories—she often spoke strange words.
“We might have been tricked,” George said, “but it’s worth a try.”
The all-white celestial warhorse moved closer, peering through the rusty railing. It expressed disdain with a snort upon seeing the dilapidated stable, turning its head to look at George.
“You don’t want to go into that stable?”
The celestial warhorse nodded.
The chaotic streets were filled with places for livestock to drink and eat. But with the pride of a celestial warhorse, it would not stand on the manure of other beasts to drink with a group of horses, donkeys, and mules. At the very least, there had to be a separate stall.
“Okay, I’ll find you a decent stable.”
George gently took hold of the reins, and the celestial warhorse happily snorted, following behind.
The streets were bustling with people moving back and forth, walking on the damp, grayish-blue pavement. A mule pulled a cart filled with burlap sacks under the crack of the whip. Two dark-skinned men sat on the mule-drawn cart; one was complaining while smoking:
“Another shipment of kerosene came today, it’s the third shipment! The foreman won’t let us smoke, what do you say we switch shifts?”
“Go away, I’ve already moved four times,” he said. “Seeing those slaves move, with no smoke to enjoy, is just unbearable.”
As the mule cart drove away, it revealed a stable where a group of horses gathered to drink. A stablehand was carrying a bucket of feed to feed them, while someone next to him was shoveling manure away.
George took a look and noticed most were mares. Although this place was quite clean, the celestial warhorse surely wouldn’t like it here.
He walked past to find the next place.
At that moment, he felt a tug on the reins in his hand. The celestial warhorse stopped, its head moving towards the half-open stable.
“Is it here?”
“Moo~~.”
The celestial warhorse let out a sound like a cow’s moo.
George found it strange, wondering when his mount had become so picky. He walked over, handed the stablehand five copper coins to ensure his horse was well-fed, and tied the reins himself with a slipknot that could be easily loosened if the celestial warhorse pulled.
For a wise horse like this, there was no need to tie it tightly.
After walking five minutes, they once again returned to the so-called dwelling of New Delhi.
George took another look at the address on the paper.
“I just feel something is off,” Ji Ma said.
“Perhaps it’s a peculiar mage,” George replied, reaching for a gray hemp rope by the door.
The rope got stuck, as if the pulley mechanism had rusted.
George pulled hard, and suddenly the rope loosened and broke. The copper bell at the door fell to the ground with a thud.
George and Ji Ma exchanged glances.
Ji Ma said, “I believe our visit will leave a lasting impression on the owner of this place.”
“I didn’t use much strength.”
At that moment, the door was pushed open.
A round-faced man with long black hair and dark brown skin poked his head out from behind the door. Upon seeing the two outside, he shouted:
“Hey, who are you? You owe me for the doorbell, at least one gold coin.”
“He’s trying to trick us; one gold coin could buy at least ten copper bells,” Ji Ma whispered and then shouted to him, “Hello, we are here to visit the mage called New Delhi. Is he in?”
The young man was taken aback, then raised his eyebrows and smirked, kicking the door open and stepping out enthusiastically, saying:
“I am he, I am New Delhi.”
It was the truth.
George still suspiciously sized him up; he looked only three or four years older than himself, quite young. He did not look like someone who would spend a lot of time studying the evil magic of slave contracts.
He walked to the iron gate, his thick eyebrows rising in delight as he opened it. Noticing George’s skeptical gaze, he laughed:
“Oh, don’t flatter me for being young. I understand what outsiders think of our type of mages; if not white-haired, then Mediterranean or old enough that only slaves can feed them to survive.”
As he spoke, he narcissistically tousled his thick hair, sending flakes of dandruff floating in the air. “I’m different; don’t let my youthful appearance fool you. I’ve been in this business for thirty years. I just took a homemade rejuvenation potion and regained my youth.”
New Delhi turned around, pointing to his shabby dwelling with a smile, “I just spent a lot of money and had to move. Well, you arrived at just the right time; I’m in need of cash. I am well-versed in astrology, and I can risk a glance into your mysterious destinies with a guaranteed accuracy of one hundred percent. I also know geography, with hundreds of forgotten treasure map tombs in my head. If you’re up for adventure, you can buy a map from me; I’m knowledgeable in all curses and enchantments…”
To George’s ears, New Delhi’s words grew increasingly grating. Ever since he claimed to be New Delhi, everything he said felt like another layer of lies.
New Delhi went on about how he was studying how to control whales at sea, claiming that once successful, it would change naval warfare drastically. At that point, whoever had the most whales would rule the oceans; he was just a little short on sponsorship.
George raised a hand to stop him and gave Ji Ma a look.
“Mr. New Delhi,” Ji Ma said, “my lord wishes to discuss the matter of slave contracts with you. Do you understand it?”
“Slave contracts, huh! You finally asked the right person; I’m well-acquainted with slave contracts!”
Still another grating lie. Breaking a slave contract was evidently not an easy task.
Why was he showing up in the online information? Perhaps because he was a key lead in finding a way to break the contract. They needed to follow up on this lead.
George pondered while slightly furrowing his brow.
This was meant to signal to Ji Ma that he was lying.
New Delhi said, “It’s been a while since I’ve met a wise confidant. Without realizing it, I’ve been chatting for so long. Come inside and sit down.”
George didn’t say a single word from start to finish.
The iron door closed behind them, and under New Delhi’s enthusiastic invitation, they entered the shabby room.
The only servant inside was a middle-aged woman dressed in coarse fabric.
Although New Delhi generously “allowed” the two not to change their shoes (to George, it seemed because he didn’t have spare slippers), he still required them to leave their weapons by the door to be watched by the servant.
This was normal. Guests entering a host’s home generally had to disarm themselves.
But as the servant took the massive sword from George, New Delhi casually remarked:
“How about you take off your armor too? It’s really hot in here.”
Ji Ma spoke up for George:
“No, my lord loves his armor. If he doesn’t wear it for a day, he’ll feel uncomfortable all over and won’t be able to sleep at home. He particularly enjoys raising turtles.”
George didn’t understand why Ji Ma needed to tell an additional lie about her love for raising turtles.
“What a cautious and good habit. Since you’ve come, you must come and see my indoor garden.”
Under New Delhi’s guidance, they walked through a dim corridor to what could barely be called an “indoor garden.”
This so-called indoor garden looked more like a prison. Surrounded by sturdy walls made of red bricks, there were five alchemical lamps hanging near the ceiling, casting a dim yellow light. Below them were what seemed to be designed openings, likely for ventilation.
There was only one entrance and exit.
If it weren’t for the several large pots of withered plants on the floor, one wouldn’t even recognize that this was a garden.
The three descended a staircase. The garden’s floor was about four or five meters lower, resembling a giant pit.
New Delhi seemed quite proud of this garden, saying:
“My previous master was a jerk; he didn’t tell me this place was prone to sinking. Shortly after I moved in, the basement collapsed. Luckily, I’m clever and resourceful, so I transformed it into a garden. With a smart mind, one can turn disasters into blessings.”
He led the two to sit down at a round table in the so-called indoor garden.
The chairs were old, and as George sat down, the chair creaked dangerously. To avoid any embarrassment for both parties, George tightened his knees and braced himself so that the chair would not collapse.
“Sorry, I forgot. What did you two come here to commission?”
Ji Ma asked, “Can you break slave contracts?”
George appreciated Ji Ma’s straightforwardness to avoid misunderstandings and bad moods.
“You want to break a slave contract?”
New Delhi replied, puzzled.
“Can you do it?”
“Of course, I have a way.”
It was actually the truth, causing George to feel a jolt of excitement.
New Delhi asked, “Who wants to break the slave contract?”
Ji Ma pointed to herself and George, saying, “We do.”
“Oh~ I see,” New Delhi smiled. “It must have been some guy who accidentally reversed the slave contract, causing you to waste your money.”
George really wanted to understand what was going through the minds of the mages in Shade Forest.
Ji Ma asked, “How long will it take to break the contract?”
“In no time at all, but it requires a deposit of one hundred gold coins,” New Delhi emphasized.
George frowned; this was a lie. Whether it was the other party trying to trick them for money or if breaking the contract took a long time, he still signaled Ji Ma to pay.
After all, having paid would provide him with some peace of mind should more desperate measures be needed.
After New Delhi happily counted the gold coins one by one, he glanced at the empty round table, and an exaggerated expression crossed his face. He slapped his forehead and exclaimed:
“Oh dear! I’ve been so rude, I forgot to instruct the servants to prepare some refreshments.” New Delhi said, “Let me personally serve you a home-cooked delicacy—curry rice. I guarantee you will love it.”
With that, he turned around and headed for the only exit.
Ji Ma stopped him, asking, “Will you return here shortly?”
George also felt something was off, straining his ears to detect lies.
“Of course,” New Delhi replied with a puzzled look at Ji Ma, wondering why she was asking so much detail.
It was the truth.
George didn’t frown, giving Ji Ma a look. Ji Ma let New Delhi go.
At that moment, outside.
A crow called out, carrying a letter on its leg as it flew over the weed-filled courtyard, heading off into the distance.
