Undercurrent

Renard exclaimed emotionally, "System! System! You're practically a cheat code!"

"Young Master, what did you say?" Although his voice was soft, the two lackeys heard him clearly, but they didn't understand what he was talking about.

Renard quickly laughed it off, "Nothing, you two get ready quickly. We're going on an adventure together in a while."

"Ah! You're really going on an adventure?" The two lackeys instantly deflated like punctured balloons, their energy completely gone.

Inside a villa not far from the castle, Gilbert sat at his desk with a dark expression, listening intently to a guard's report: "Old Walker gave the medal to Young Master Renard. This plan is likely..."

"Bang!" Before the guard could finish his report, Gilbert slammed the table hard, lowering his voice and roaring, "Damn bastard, ruining my plan. I'll kill him myself."

Seeing his ferocious expression, the reporting guard couldn't help but shiver. He cowered in the corner, awaiting orders.

Half an hour later, Wilson quietly entered the villa. He looked around, his face full of vigilance. "What does the Young Master want me for?"

Despite calling the other person Young Master, Wilson's face held no respect at all, a stark contrast to his behavior on the training grounds.

"Don't worry, everyone around here is my man." Gilbert waved his hand with a gloomy expression, and the guard in the corner, as if granted a great pardon, ran out of the office.

He took a deep breath and said in the most level tone he could manage, "The plan failed."

"Plan? What plan?" Wilson frowned slightly, as if he didn't know what the other person was talking about.

Gilbert felt a lump in his throat. After a long silence, he said helplessly, "It's about Old Walker's plan."

"Old Walker?" Wilson pondered for a long time before his eyes lit up in realization. "You mean that lowly adventurer?"

Immediately, his expression turned sharp. "What did you say? The plan failed? Then my medal..."

"Don't worry, it won't be lost." Gilbert took another deep breath, the flames of unwillingness flickering in his eyes. "It's in Renard's hands now."

"What?" Wilson exclaimed in shock, his expression suddenly turning cold. "I don't know why you went to such lengths to scheme against Old Walker, but if anything happens to my family's heirloom medal, I absolutely..."

"Give up your pointless threats." Gilbert gritted his teeth fiercely. "It's just a Medal of Merit, no big deal."

Before the other could retort, he added, "What you should be concerned about is whether I can inherit the title and territory. If I can't, do you think you'll get anything out of it?"

Wilson's expression froze, and then, like a defeated rooster, he lowered his proud head. "I really don't understand your purpose in targeting Old Walker. What use is he to us?"

"Naturally." Gilbert rubbed his forehead. The joy of defeating Renard had long been extinguished by this sudden turn of events.

He got up and walked to the window, looking in the direction of the slums, his gaze constantly shifting. "To us, Old Walker might be a pawn we can manipulate at will, but in certain matters, he can play a crucial role."

"Such as?" Wilson asked.

Gilbert gave him a meaningful look, then sighed and said, "For example, anything we can't do ourselves can be handed over to him."

Wilson frowned slightly. "If that's all, I know many capable adventurers who can also help us."

"What do you know?" Gilbert's expression twisted slightly. "Old Walker isn't an ordinary adventurer. He's a core member of the Blood Knight Mercenary Group, specifically in charge of managing the underground black market of Saint Brieuc Fortress."

The Blood Knight Mercenary Group was the strongest mercenary group in the Southern Great Plains, with over a thousand members. However, to the Duncan Family, they were still ants that could be crushed at any time.

Therefore, although Gilbert's words surprised Wilson, it was only surprise. "So what?"

He was the Captain of the Guard of Saint Brieuc Fortress, and his family had enjoyed the Duncan Family's stipends for generations. Why would he fear a bunch of commoners?

Gilbert was momentarily stunned by his question. After a long pause, he finally reacted and said with extreme annoyance, "Have you ever heard the name Regana Dawang?"

Wilson thought for a moment and shook his head. "No, I haven't. I haven't left Saint Brieuc Fortress in a long time."

"Fine!" Gilbert felt his patience wearing thin. "If you haven't heard of Regana Dawang, you must have heard of Ray Dawang, right?"

Ray Dawang? Wilson's expression finally changed, becoming solemn. "Are you talking about the man known as the strongest man in the Southern Great Plains?"

"Exactly!" Gilbert's eyes flickered with an inexplicable light. "Regana Dawang is his daughter."

"What does this have to do with you setting a trap for Old Walker?" Wilson asked again.

Hearing this, Gilbert clenched his fist fiercely. He felt like he had explained it very clearly. Why couldn't the other person use his pea-sized brain to connect the dots?

He glanced coldly at Wilson, a hidden mockery in his eyes: As expected, he's a brute with muscle for brains.

Communicating with an idiot requires the most direct method. He stopped beating around the bush and stated plainly, "Regana Dawang is the manager of the underground black market in the City of Abundance, and Old Walker is her direct subordinate. They have close dealings."

Gilbert sat back down, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. "My ultimate goal in scheming against Old Walker was to get in touch with Regana Dawang."

When he mentioned the name Regana Dawang, his eyes showed an inexplicable gleam. He then took out his personal vanity mirror and meticulously adjusted his hair.

After a while, he put away the mirror, a confident smile on his lips. "To compete for the inheritance and territory, our own strength isn't enough. I need people, I need money, and only she can give me that."

Wilson finally understood a little, and a strange look appeared on his face. To be so high-minded about being a gigolo, the other person's thick skin must be incredible.

For a rough fellow like him, associating with such a person was beneath him. But every time he thought of Miss Florence's alluring body, he couldn't maintain his integrity.

Wilson wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth and asked, "Now that the plan has failed, what do we do next?"

"What do we do?" Gilbert pondered for a moment, then leaned close to the other's ear. "We..."