I can change her for money

"Sad continent? ... Interesting. Interesting name. So what era is it now? Second era? Probably not."

"Tertiary yuan, 1180, January, deep winter."

"HMM... I remember. I hope you remember this day well, boy, because in the coming years, you will realize how important this day is to you."

The little beggar silently watching the dark, let him speak. When he finished, the little beggar suddenly said: "dark out, I will how to get you down."

Dark out stare at small beggar, sneer 1: "how, feel pain? Keep that in mind. In the days to come, each time you accept more of my power will be such a pain. Unless you cut off your arm, the chains that link your veins will never come loose."

After hearing this, the little beggar stopped talking. He felt sorry for that. The dark is a snort, the red pupil slowly closed, into a thin line, as it appeared that instant disappear. The blood in the cave was imprinted as if it had been absorbed by the sword. The red light in the tent disappeared, and this time, sleep could finally come...

A pity.

After closing his eyes, the little beggar's mind, hidden behind his expressionless face, felt extremely sorry.

The sword that can't be taken off... That means there's no way to pawn this dangerous thing and replace sulla...

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

The overnight snowstorm is over. It was a rare sunny morning for sennaga. Bits of gold were sprinkled on the slightly frozen river, and white carpets covered the streets.

Under the bridge, a little sunshine is rare. Although extremely rare, but the gold color or the tent painted with warm colors. With the sound of carriages on the bridge, the tent moved.

The little beggar's head came out of it... No matter how warm it is outside, alert eyes are always looking around. A mouse coming out of its hole will carefully observe its surroundings to prevent it from becoming breakfast for the eagle snake as soon as it appears.

Tent cloth opened, the small beggar slowly from the pacing out. He held the baby girl in his arms as if he hadn't let go all night.

The morning air burrows through the bridge, bringing a different kind of cold than a snowstorm. The little beggar could not help but shiver, arms more tightly embrace the arms of the baby, bowed his head.

Her face glowed with drops of water, reflecting colorful light in the morning sun. The faint breathing continued on the red cheeks. He touched it with his hand... It's still burning.

The beggar grabbed some fresh snow and put it in the kettle to boil, but the result was that he had no wood left to hold the tent down and could not withstand the next storm. He took a bite of the hard bread and swallowed it with saliva. Wait until the stomach feels a little more abundant, then tear the bread into small pieces, put them into the kettle and boil them together, stick your fingers on them, and feed them to the baby girl bit by bit.

"Blare... Whoa..."

Feeling the sweet smell of food, the little girl opened her mouth slightly, sucking the fingers of the little beggar. Perhaps because of hunger, her sucking was very strong. The little hands clasped the fingers of the little beggar and clung to them with her feeble grasp, refusing to let them go.

The little beggar was fed little by little. The breakfast took him too long. For an hour, he repeated the gesture of wetting his fingers and feeding the baby girl.

But if that's all it is, that's fine.

Suddenly, the little beggar's hand stopped. At the same time, the baby girl in her arms suddenly gave a little shiver. Then, with an easy expression, as if she had solved some problem, she exhaled, and fell asleep again...

The warm liquid passed through the swaddling clothes to the little beggar's hands. The liquid ran along the chain and into the wound in his still unhealed right arm, sending out a slight tingling pain. Blown by the cold morning wind, the warm liquid turns cold.

The little beggar silently looked at the baby girl in his arms, with a blank face and a pair of cold eyes. He had trouble, and this trouble was sure to take up much of his working time and add to his unpaid work.

The cold wind takes away the warmth of the liquid. Deep in the cold swaddling clothes, the baby girl's expression gradually became uncomfortable. Finally, she opened her mouth and announced her discomfort with the only weapon a baby could use -- crying.

"Human boy, according to you, how should solve?"

The tone was slightly mocking. Seems to be very interested in appreciating the little beggar next action.

"... Do your own thing."

The little beggar looked coldly at the baby girl crying in her arms --

"Your parents are dead, and in this world, no one comes to clean you up."

"Then the little beggar went back to the tent, threw the crying baby girl on the dead grass, and walked out of the tent...

...

............

...............

The morning hours are almost over. The noonday sun hung, radiating that rare warmth. The pedestrians on the road were all wrapped in heavy cotton-padded clothes and stepped on the snow with wide, thick and warm shoes. In the winter days, even if it is sunny, it is still so cold.

Next to the bridge, I do not know when to put up a simple shelf made of branches. On the shelf hung pieces of cloth dancing in the wind. It was the swaddling clothes of baby girls, wiped clean by the snow, hanging there to be dried.

Under the bridge, the beggar's upper body was naked. He shivered, his lips were purple, and his arms were clasped in his hands. After throwing bits of dead grass covered with debris into the river, he climbed into his tent and looked at the baby girl lying in the dead grass under his blanket.

"Boy, I don't understand what you're doing."

The beggar shook out his old coat, turned the inside side over, picked up the baby girl carefully, and put her into the old, clean and warm coat. He folded the clothes and picked her up again. Then he rolled up the blanket and wrapped it around the baby girl in his arms.

"She can have sulla."

The little beggar came out of the tent, feeling the biting cold of winter against his skin.

"If it's dirty and smelly, there won't be enough sulla to replace it."

With these words, the little beggar shivered once more and stepped into the midday winter.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

What is the last thing you need in a lawless, chaotic border city?

Take the streets.

It is the smouldering atmosphere that allows this ancient tradition to survive in squalor like cockroaches.

In the northeast corner of sennagh, the city's notorious haunt of venereal diseases, smoking, bandits and murderers. Even if covered with snow and ice, it will not be able to cover the chaos and chaos spreading through the region. This is the kind of place where the rich never come. They have money, they can enjoy the better women, and they don't come to places like this, and they pick the prostitutes who want to be pretty, who want to be tasteful, who are like lumps of fat waiting to be done.

But there is one thing that even the rich would admit, or rather disparagingly agree on. This is where the poor vent their anger, and where crime is rife.

The little beggars huddle in the alleys, and the mice, eager for survival, peer out from the dark corners. After making sure that no one was walking in the street at noon, he bowed his head and walked down the street with the baby girl in his arms.

"Where are you going? Dark in the mind laugh.

"Get her for money." The little beggar answered simply.

"Oh, interesting. Well, she's looking at you, look."

The beggar bent his head and slightly lifted the blanket to look inside. The baby girl had woken up, her eyes were like emeralds, she was afraid, but she was looking intently at the little beggar's face.

The little beggar's steps slowed down a little. He also looked at the baby girl in his arms, looking at the little red face. Her eyelashes are very long, small lips appear a little white, gently breathing, floating out of the bursts of milk fragrance... It's sweet. It smells good.

The little beggar's hand suddenly shook slightly. He looked away from the innocent eyes. No, she shouldn't have looked at him like that, and she shouldn't have looked at him like that. For it was not long before those who looked at the emeralds would replace her with sulla, and then throw her into the kiln and destroy herself.

"Blare... Ah... Beep... Blare..."

Meaningless grunt from the beggar's arms, her spirits seemed to improve a lot. In response, the beggar quickened his pace and ran to his destination.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Pink lady.

The largest tavern in the lane of flower street, specializing in low-quality wine and cheap prostitutes, has such a vulgar name. This is the place where the whoremongers gather and where the thugs and thieves fight.

It is noon and the pink lady is not yet open for business. After taking a look at the front door of the pub, the beggar immediately went round to the back of the pub to take out the rubbish. Then he knocked on the door.

...

............

...............

"Cough up!"

The peep-window of the door was opened, and a sinister and Philistine face emerged from it.

"Who is it?

"Me".

The man looked down and sneered when he saw the little beggar. Then he pulled the peep window shut, and two minutes later the door was opened.