A heavy, grinding rumble echoed from beneath the crystal auction stage.
Iron chains clanked against bronze pulleys. Trapdoors slid open on the platform floor, sending a cloud of damp, stale air billowing into the amphitheater.
Ten massive iron cages were hoisted into the light.
Inside the rusted iron bars huddled three thousand slender, frail figures.
They possessed delicate features, pointed ears, and moss-green hair that hung in tangled knots over their shoulders. Their skin was pale from months of starvation in dark holds. Burn scars from poachers’ fire covered their arms and shoulders. Each elf wore a tattered burlap tunic, and around their thin necks were clamped thick cold-iron slave collars inscribed with blood-suppression runes.
At the front of the center cage stood an elderly elf with bark-like wrinkles, a long silver beard, and sorrowful emerald eyes.
Lin Mo activated his Pure-Heart Eye.
A sea of brilliant, spotless green light flooded his vision: [SPECIES: WOOD-SPIRIT ELF BOTANISTS. 3,000 INDIVIDUALS.] [AVERAGE GOODNESS SCORE: 96/100.] [LEADER: ELDER SYLVAN. GOODNESS SCORE: 97/100.] [CRIME LOG: 0 OFFENSES ACROSS THREE CENTURIES. HARMONIOUS GUARDIANS OF FLORA AND VEGETATION.] [STATUS: HOMELAND BURNED BY POACHERS. CONDEMNED TO SLAVERY.]
