Chapter 1250: Plotlines Found Only in Novels

Ian Prince left the intelligence merchant’s tent, feeling somewhat more at ease. With the lead from Newt Scamander, the possibility of returning home had greatly increased.

Now, he needed to patiently wait for three days, but he also couldn’t waste this opportunity—a completely unfamiliar Magic Market was like a Treasure Vault awaiting exploration.

“There must be some Magic Potion Materials and Alchemy Materials that can’t be found in Great Britain, and besides, in this era, many Magic Potion Materials and Alchemy Materials haven’t gone extinct yet.”

Ian held this expectation.

He rejoined the bustling crowd.

This time, he was no longer in a rush to find a specific target, but instead slowed his pace, observing this exotic Magic World with the interest of a true traveler.

The first thing that caught his attention was the local wizards’ ways of Casting. Unlike European Wizards who heavily rely on a Magic Wand, the wizards here had a more diverse approach.

In front of a stall selling woven items, an elderly Witch was showing a colorful shawl to a customer. Instead of using a Magic Wand, she used her hands adorned with several heavy Copper Bracelets, accompanied by a chant-like Spell, dancing over the shawl. With her movements, the patterns on the shawl seemed to come alive, the bird and beast motifs glowed faintly, and even emitted a slight chirping. This was a technique of directly weaving Magic into an item.

“More focused on the use of Alchemy Items, interesting.”

Ian continued to wander.

At another stall, a burly wizard was hammering a piece of heated metal. He was drenched in sweat, and each strike was accompanied by a powerful syllable, as if embedding a Spell directly into the metal. He was crafting a dagger, upon which intricate magical patterns had emerged.

Ian also saw some wizards using various Magical Artifacts: Wooden Staffs carved with totems, Arm Rings inlaid with Gemstones, and even Rattles made from animal skulls. Their Spells sounded more primitive and rhythmic, more like singing or chanting, unlike the precise Latin pronunciation of European Magic.

“Interesting…” Ian nodded to himself. Clearly, Africa’s Magic System followed a path different from Europe, emphasizing resonance with nature, totems, and personal spirit. While it may not match up to Wand Magic in some refined operations, in certain ways, it might have its own unique strengths.

While observing, Ian didn’t forget his instincts as a Master of Magic Potions and Alchemist—treasure hunting. His gaze was like the most precise detection Spell, scanning through stall after stall.

Most of the products were indeed as they appeared, some ordinary or low-quality Magic Items, but there were always times when gems lay dust-covered, testing the treasure hunter’s keen eye.

Just like collecting antiques.

Some unscrupulous wizards could also use counterfeit items, doing some fine processing to pass off as precious materials to deceive others, with careless buyers suffering great losses.

Of course.

This refers to ordinary wizards.

Ian certainly didn’t belong to that group.

His discernment was more precise than many professors.

In a corner of a stall filled with various dried herbs and animal organs, Ian discovered a few inconspicuous, dirt-covered black roots. The vendor clearly mistook them for ordinary Mandrake Roots—although Mandrake was also precious in the United Kingdom, it didn’t seem to be that rare here.

Therefore, the vendor, who lacked a discerning eye, simply treated them as regular Mandrake and carelessly piled them there. Just as some deceitful vendors existed, there were also those with no real skill, blending in with the mix.

Hmm.

The idiom used might not be quite appropriate, but anyway, just understand the meaning it conveys. Ian always liked to attribute meanings to idioms, so he wasn’t always able to use them correctly now.

After all, he had lived in Great Britain for a long time.

“This thing…”

Though the vendor hadn’t realized the issue, Ian recognized at a glance what it was—a tuber of the Dark Night Poppy! This was an extremely rare Magic Plant, growing only beneath ancient battlefields or places ravaged by powerful Dark Arts, and was a top-tier ingredient for making Advanced Sedatives and certain Memory Potions.

Its value far exceeded that of Mandrake.

The dirt on its surface and its unremarkable appearance perfectly concealed its value.

“How much is this?” Ian casually pointed at that pile of “Mandrake Roots.”

The vendor, an old lady with a face full of wrinkles, glanced over and named a price in heavily accented English. Ian didn’t even haggle, paid directly, fearing the vendor would change her mind. He carefully stored these precious tubers in a Money Bag enchanted with the Traceless Stretching Charm, unable to suppress his delight.

Unlike places with formal Magic Schools and systematic teaching, Africa didn’t have Wizard Schools, with most wizards relying on family or master-apprentice transmissions.

This made treasure hunting in this place quite easy—many wizards here had limited knowledge passed down over generations, with such a closed knowledge system that their overall ability might not even match Hogwarts’ senior students.

This is why many academy-trained wizards looked down on wizards from these remote places, primarily because the abilities of remote wizards were indeed limited.

Of course…

There were also exceptions.

Some individuals were truly exceptional.

But they were in the minority.

Soon.

Ian had another successful find.

At another stall selling scrap metal and minerals, Ian was attracted to a dark red, seemingly rust-covered iron lump.