Night fell quickly, and Phil Gray donned his cloak and headed toward the trade fair.
Seemingly recognizing him as one of the people she had searched with Morey at the trade fair last time, the proprietress didn't give him a friendly look this time, simply saying coldly, "Please come in."
Upon arriving at the trading hall, he looked around at the stalls on both sides and found the spot where skulls were usually displayed, but now it was empty, with no sign of the chosen one of the god of death.
Did he leave because I didn't come to make the deal?
Phil Gray was somewhat disappointed. He looked at the neighboring stall, where a fat man was standing.
"Hello, is this stall owner not here today?"
He glanced at Phil Gray and said with a chuckle, "No, he hasn't been here for over ten days. Are you looking for him? The proprietress is going to take back his stall; this spot will be someone else's next time."
He had long since given up on selling things next to this chosen one of the gods of death.
He believed in life and didn't want to see the various parts taken from people's bodies, but the people next to him always put them up for sale.
"All right."
It's been more than ten days. It seems he hasn't been selling anything here since he left last time.
Phil Gray stepped out of the shop. The moonlight was somewhat chilly, and his shadow was reflected on the street.
Suddenly, he noticed a blurry shadow next to his own. He turned around, but there was no one there.
Phil Gray frowned, then the sound of wind rushed by, and a person in a black cloak grabbed his arm.
The blade of fate was already gathering at his fingertips, ready to be hurled into the stranger's throat in the next second.
Then they heard the man say in a hoarse voice, "You've finally arrived. I've been waiting for you for two or three days."
It turned out to be the person he was looking for tonight, the chosen one of the gods of death.
Following him to the street corner, I asked, "Why aren't you at the trade fair?"
“I’m hiding and can’t reveal my whereabouts, so I can only wait for you around here. If you hadn’t come today, I would have left Duer City.”
"What serious crime have you committed?" Phil Gray asked.
"That's none of your business, but I've brought you something big." As soon as he finished speaking, a corpse appeared on the ground.
The corpse was an old man, dressed in a golden robe with sun patterns. Despite his death, Phil Gray could still sense the intense divine power emanating from the body.
"Put it away quickly!" he urged.
Phil Gray placed the body into the space stone.
The man whispered, "This is the body of a descendant of a god, a prophet of the day, a complete corpse." A look of fascination flashed in his eyes.
A god-level demotion! Phil Gray was somewhat surprised. However, a god-level demotion corpse should be a very rare thing for the chosen ones of the god of death. He only needed one hand, so why did the god give him the whole thing?
“Something this valuable is not enough. I think gold coins alone are not enough. You need to give me some other valuable items.” His eyes were fixed on Phil Gray.
"All I need are my hands."
"No, no, no, you are also a chosen one of the God of Death, aren't you? You'll find out later that the skills we acquire are always inseparable from the dead. You need hands now, so the skill must be related to hands. Who knows if your next skill will require a head?"
What he said seemed to make sense, but Phil Gray found it strange that he didn't keep such a precious corpse for himself. However, since it had been delivered to his doorstep, he couldn't very well refuse.
"I have four hundred gold coins here."
He took out the gold coins.
The man shook his head. "Not enough."
Phil Gray took out another white glove, which he had made from the corpse of the plague-maker after dinner. The glove had a skill called "Disease Spread," which could poison a person and make them infectious to those around them. However, this skill was only at the listening level, and it was effective on ordinary people but had little effect on those favored by the gods. Moreover, those favored by the God of Life, such as Mr. Allen, could be easily dispelled.
So he thought it was useless, so he took it out and explained its usage time limit and function.
The man took the gloves, looking quite interested.
“This is all I have, and all I really need are my hands. If you think it’s not enough, there’s nothing I can do,” Phil Gray said calmly.
He was indeed very poor; he had nothing.
"Alright, you can have it easy. I'm leaving now. Don't mention our deal to anyone else."
"OK."
Watching the man's retreating figure, Phil Gray put his hands in his pockets and walked towards the hotel.
Back in the room, he took the body out and placed it on the floor.
No one knows how many days he has been dead, but the rich divine power makes him look as if he is still alive, with no signs of decay on his skin.
Phil Gray took out a dagger and gently sliced off his right hand.
The bloodstains had a faint golden hue, a warm color that made him feel like beams of sunlight in winter.
With divine power activated, the "Right Hand of the Dead" skill was used, and the hand slowly transformed into a golden glove.
Phil Gray was pale and dizzy. His divine power was exhausted, and he was about to faint. He didn't have time to check the function of the glove. He quickly put the remaining corpses back into his space and collapsed onto the bed.
As dawn broke through the gaps in the window bars, Phil Gray rubbed his eyes.
When he woke up again, only a small portion of his divine power had been restored.
Unable to contain his excitement, he examined the gloves on the table. "The Blazing Sun Sword can be formed using divine power."
Furthermore, the deceased was skilled with a sword in life, and after putting on the gloves, he became a master swordsman!
“Experience should certainly not be left in the grave, old sir. Just wait and see as I continue to carry forward your Sunfire Sword,” Phil Gray said with a smile.
After washing up, he was about to go downstairs for dinner when he suddenly noticed a small, golden sun on his wrist, about the size of a fingernail, which he almost missed.
"What is this? When did it appear?" Phil Gray's heart tightened. He rinsed it with water again, but the mark did not change at all.
He tried to channel his divine power into the mark, which emitted a faint light.
"What on earth is going on? The sun is the mark of the daytime prophet. Is it because I dissected the corpse of that divine descendant yesterday?"
Phil Gray's expression was grave. "Will moving his body result in this mark? What is its purpose?"
He walked down the stairs with a heavy heart, and heard Eli talking to Patrick about something while holding the Church of Life's internal newspaper.
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