An ordinary marketplace.
Even in times of chaos, ordinary people still need to live.
Thus, the merchants opened as usual, and during certain sacrificial events, they had market gatherings.
People flowed densely, coming for shopping, carrying enough copper coins to attract those with sticky fingers.
A middle-aged man in a grey robe, with ordinary features, easily overlooked in a crowd, not too fat or thin, average in height, stepped slowly through the throng.
At one moment, his hand darted out like lightning, aiming to snatch a Money Bag.
The next instant.
A hand suddenly reached out, as if iron shackles, and grasped his hand.
"Thief?"
A tall, thin stranger wearing a hat reached out, catching him.
What surprised the thief even more was that the stranger's hand was cold, hard… almost unlike a living hand, more akin to a corpse's hand...
"What… what do you want?"
The thief spoke fiercely, "I tell you, I am with the Poison Snake Gang!"
