"God damn it, my dick is itching like crazy."

  This was the corpse collector's first thought upon waking up in the morning.

  When sunlight shone upon this city, the color it used to greet the dawn was a dingy purple, like the swollen nipple of a fat prostitute.

  Purple City, located in the southeastern delta region of the Continent of Divine Grace, was a small town at the border of several kingdoms, a vassal state of the "Golden Island," and its people worshipped the God of Wealth and Fortune, a deity outside the Seven Great Temple Gods.

  After simply gulping down the bean porridge cooked by his sallow-faced wife and relieving himself in a wooden bucket, the corpse collector pushed his handcart out onto the street.

  Today was considered a clear day; naturally, the more sunshine there was, the purple the city became. 2.As far as the corpse collector knew, this was because the city lord believed purple represented wealth and nobility, and the generous city lord wanted to share this honor with everyone in the city, allowing all to partake.

  As for why everyone so obediently followed the city lord's wishes? That was because this city lord was also the Vice-Envoy of the God of Wealth and Fortune. In this world, every god bestowed blessings upon many individuals, granting them power and a portion of divine strength. These people were called the Blessed, while the Envoy was the god's sole favorite left in the mortal realm, granted the right to directly communicate with the deity and terrifying power.

  And the Vice-Envoy was a subordinate of the Envoy, equally powerful, although the envoys of other faiths had several vice-envoys as advisors, while the Envoy of the God of Wealth and Fortune, the Golden King, only had the Purple City Lord, Purple Man, to command.

  Thus, this suffocating "purple swamp" was created. The streets were paved with purple bricks, the walls were dyed purple, and even the clothes worn by the residents were required to be purple. Damn it, of course, since you could get free clothes at the city gate if you couldn't afford them, the "damn it" factor was somewhat reduced.

  Anyway, everything here belonged to the city lord.The corpse collector thought to himself.

  "God damn it, this itch is killing me." He figured it was probably the terrible quality of these clothes that easily caused rashes. He could scratch other places, but this rash was in such an awkward spot; scratching it for too long could easily break the skin of his balls.

  Perhaps after selling today's corpses, he could go to the brothel and find a cleaner, younger prostitute. There was a rumor going around the taverns that if something looked wrong with your dick, or if you caught some venereal disease, sleeping with a virgin would cure it. Of course, he didn't have that much money, so he'd just have to find a thinner, fairer prostitute.

  He actually preferred the plump ones, to greedily suck on those fat breasts and even get a taste of human oil to satisfy his cravings. It was a pity he'd never asked those fat women to bring some salt to sprinkle on them – that would be even more flavorful.

  The streets today were as filthy as ever, with piles of garbage heaped on both sides. Stinking water was like pockmarks on the city's face, scattered all over this "face," disgustingly ugly.

  But there weren't many corpses. Although quite a few people died in this city every day, very few bodies ended up lying on the streets.

  These corpses, "produced" for various reasons, had a special value. Some black market workshops would buy them, perhaps as meat for the beasts in the arena, or to sell to those noble artists who created uniquely styled crafts. Of course, the corpse collector completely didn't want to understand that kind of art.4.Besides that, there was another terrifying use: as magical materials. Ordinary dead people, although not as good as the "Cursed Ones," could still be used somewhat (these were all rumors from inside the tavern).

  As for the Cursed Ones, that was blasphemy itself. Although magic was proclaimed by those Blessed who borrowed divine power to be thievery, who could really say how many mages were mixed into this city? But the Cursed Ones were different.

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  The Cursed Ones were born with supernatural abilities, said to be the reincarnation of demons, unforgivable beings wanted across the entire continent, and worth a lot of money.

  Sometimes, even the corpse collector, who wasn't very good at wielding a knife, often fantasized about catching a Cursed One. Then he could afford to keep a beautiful mistress and live in the cleaner inner city. As for his wife with the already sagging breasts, he'd give her some money to get lost.

  The corpse collector pushed his cart along while fantasizing. Fantasy was his tobacco; since he couldn't afford to smoke, he used fantasy to relieve his boredom.

  Corpses couldn't run over on their own. If they really did, the corpse collector would run even faster, after all, he couldn't handle zombies.

  "Need any goods? Three big, two small, all 'fresh'." A voice the corpse collector was waiting for came from the dark alleyway beside him, lowered, a bit hoarse yet still sounding somewhat inexperienced.

  The voice was familiar. The corpse collector turned around and saw a figure half-hidden in the shadows of the alleyway. It was a young figure wearing a purple cloak, somewhat thin and about 1.7 meters tall.

  Perhaps some might consider that a bit short for a person, but in Purple City, there were many malnourished children, so this was considered a normal to slightly above-average height.

  They had short, brownish-black hair and ruby eyes.

  Moreover, this young figure could always bring corpses to the corpse collector. They would meet every three or four days, making them a reliable source.

  "Let me take a look," the corpse collector said, then followed the young figure into the alley.

  Turning a corner, he followed the young figure into a room.

  The room was covered with dry soil and straw, with some salt sprinkled around for preservation.

  "Please, take a look, sir," the young figure said, then lifted the dry straw, as if uncorking a bottle in the dim room, releasing the smell of death.

  Several corpses were neatly laid out, their bloodless pale skin contorting as if these dead bodies possessed emotions – reluctance, pain, and despair.

  And what the corpse collector saw was worth three blue silver coins and six steel pennies, two blue silver coins and three steel pennies, three blue silver coins and two steel pennies...

  "Look at this corpse, its skull has a dent, it's incomplete. This female corpse clearly died of illness, unlucky. And those two children are too thin, you know there's not much meat on skinny ones... Anyway, I'll give you a total of five blue silver coins for all of these," the corpse collector said. It was impossible for him to say these corpses were in perfect condition. The gangs knew corpses could be sold for money, and if they were the ones who killed them, they wouldn't resell them to him. What he could get now were either those who died of illness or those who were murdered and their bodies dumped.

  But haggling over the price was still necessary; it was already a habit between the two of them.

  "But sir, this person has a very strong build. Apart from the slight flaw on its head, the rest is intact. This woman was pregnant and died in childbirth; that's not really an illness, is it? And these two children died of diarrhea; they are thin, yes, but their value lies in their completeness. As for that last person, you didn't find any fault with them, did you? So I think seven blue silver coins is a fair price. After all, some of these goods I also have to buy from others," the young figure bargained with the corpse collector like a seasoned merchant.

  After some back-and-forth price negotiations, the final price was set at six blue silver coins and three steel pennies, and both sides were quite satisfied.

  The young figure even helped the corpse collector carry the bodies onto the handcart and tie them down as an after-sales service. Then, with a strong lift, the corpse collector pushed the cart forward and walked away.

  "If I can get a few more of these, I can finish work early today..." The corpse collector started to think about what to do after work – whether to go to the bar for some food and drinks or head to the brothel. It was a slightly difficult decision.

  "Huh?" The corpse collector saw a group of people wearing linen-colored cloaks walking across the street. The fact that they weren't wearing purple indicated they were from out of town. If they were visiting merchants or tourists staying for a short time, they wouldn't need to change all their clothes to purple.

  Merchants and tourists were quite common here, but what puzzled the corpse collector was that, based on his many years of experience examining corpses, he could tell that several of the cloaked figures were very strong, and one of them had a frame and figure that he estimated was more perfect than the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life, yet there was also a faint, indescribable sense of danger about them.

  But the puzzlement only lasted for a moment. The corpse collector stopped looking at those people and pushed his cart away.

  "Indeed, I should go find a prostitute first."

  Because the corpse collector could barely endure it any longer.

  "God damn it, my dick is itching like crazy."