Exquisite Dinner

After obtaining the desired revelation from the Fate Crystal Ball, Cyril pulled Owen directly toward the nearest wall. A flash of ghostly blue light rippled over them, and the two vanished from the street.

Soon, the houses all around began to light up row by row, accompanied by the angry curses and shouts of the homeowners inside.

Clearly, traveling through walls avoided some gazes and crowds, but it did not avoid them entirely.

However, these startled homeowners would at most assume a thief had visited their homes; they would never imagine that someone was using their houses like a public street to pass through at will.

In a dark corner untouched by streetlights, a flash of ghostly blue radiance flickered, and Cyril and Owen stepped directly out of the adjacent wall.

Both were panting slightly; the method of traveling in a straight line was not easy for them.

"Exhausted. It's like running for our lives."

"The population density in the East District is too high. Aside from the restrooms, there isn't a single place where people aren't living. It's impossible to move quickly without being noticed."

Owen, standing to the side, raised a hand to wipe the cold sweat from his temple, deeply agreeing. He thought of the living rooms packed with floor mats and bedrooms filled with bunk beds; even some hallways were occupied by bed boards and pallets, leaving them with nowhere to step several times.

For an ordinary person, this journey was harrowing enough. Some who discovered them merely cursed, but others pulled out knives or even firearms they carried on them.

Catching his breath, he suddenly sighed, "No wonder you were so reluctant to use Beyonder abilities to travel before. One bit of bad luck and you're staring down the barrel of a gun."

Cyril remained silent for a moment. His previous reluctance to use Beyonder abilities for travel was purely because the distance from the South Bridge District to the East District was too great; if he knew how to teleport, he certainly wouldn't have chosen a carriage.

After a pause, he followed the other's lead and sighed casually, "All I can say is, sometimes Beyonder abilities lose to reality."

Owen nodded, then asked, "Where do we go from here?"

Cyril raised a finger and pointed toward a house ahead where a faint light still shone through the glass windows:

"We've reached the territory of the Blood Axe Gang. The next part is simple: try to bypass their guards, then loot the place."

"Keep in mind, we are here to loot valuables, not to fight gangsters. Even if we are discovered, try not to engage head-on. A fragile Apprentice like me can't take a punch from a Highlander."

Owen reached out to touch his waist and said in a low voice, "I brought a gun."

"Do you think they don't have any?" Cyril countered. He paused for two seconds before adding:

"Besides, the commotion from a firearm is too great. Once a shot is fired, everyone in the vicinity will be alerted. Even if we can walk through walls, we might not be able to leave safely."

As he spoke, he walked straight to the corner of the house ahead. After listening intently to the movements inside for a moment, he pressed one hand against the bricks of the wall.

Under his palm, ghostly blue light rippled like water, forming a vague, intangible door. The two passed through without the slightest obstruction.

The next second, their figures appeared in a pitch-black kitchen. It was a mess, covered in grease and food scraps, as if no one had ever cleaned it.

Owen scanned the surroundings quickly, then furrowed his brows, "This is too filthy. Don't those Highlanders worry about bacterial infections or food poisoning from food made in a kitchen like this?"

Cyril frowned as well, though not because of the dirty environment, but because he felt a sense of being watched, along with an attraction. Something very tempting in this house seemed to be peeking at him.

An unexpected side effect of the Fate Crystal Ball? It seems it's best to use this kind of divination with side effects sparingly; one never knows when an accident might exceed one's ability to handle it.

Collecting his thoughts, he looked around the kitchen and mused, "The grease is still fresh, and there's no smell of rot in the air. This kitchen clearly only became this messy in the last few days."

"The revelation from the Fate Crystal Ball points to the floor above this house; it should be the storage room for the Blood Axe Gang. But be careful—judging by the lights and sounds, there are still people in this house who haven't gone to sleep."

Owen patted his chest and said, "Don't worry, I came prepared. Whether they're asleep or not, I can make them sleep like the dead."

As he spoke, he pulled a grayish-white bone charm from his pocket.

"This is a Slumber Charm. Its effect is to put a single creature or creatures within a certain range into a deep sleep."

"If you don't specify a target, the effect can cover about one room, though it will be weakened. Still, it's enough to deal with ordinary people. Without external interference, they can sleep soundly until tomorrow morning or noon."

"Not bad."

Cyril looked at Owen with appreciation. For dealing with ordinary people, this type of area-of-effect charm was the most suitable, and it wouldn't leave behind too many Beyonder traces that might attract the attention of official Beyonders.

While pondering, he reached into the outer pocket of his coat on the left, where there were two Slumber Charms identical to the one in Owen's hand, obtained from the gathering of the old gentleman known as the Eye of Wisdom.

The pity was that he hadn't managed to buy a firearm. Those who attended the gathering had ways to get guns and even Beyonder bullets, but he would have to wait for the next meeting.

By the kitchen door, Cyril pressed his head against the wood, listening to the sounds outside. Only after confirming no one was there did he reach out to grip the doorknob and turn his wrist with a gentle force.

Click.

The locked door opened with ease; the so-called lock was as if it didn't exist in front of him.

There were no lights in the dining room outside the kitchen, only the fireplace burning against the wall. The dim, yellowish firelight barely illuminated half of the room.

Someone had thrown all sorts of junk into the fireplace, and the air throughout the dining room was filled with a charred, foul stench.

Owen wore a mask, but he still couldn't help but frown, "It stinks. Are the living conditions of gangsters this miserable now?"

Cyril remained silent. He felt restless and agitated; the sense of being watched in the dark made him inexplicably uneasy, yet he didn't want to leave. That thing was full of temptation and seemed very important to him, and his spiritual intuition didn't sense any danger in the vicinity.

Owen suddenly brushed past him and walked quickly toward the center of the dining room, "What a sumptuous dinner. Are these Highlanders planning to host some distinguished guest?"

"It looks like it hasn't been touched yet. Should we eat some? I happen to be a bit hungry."

As he spoke, his throat suddenly bobbed, making a gulping sound.

Cyril followed the sound and looked over, seeing Owen standing before the long table in the center of the dining room with glowing eyes. Before him was an exquisite and rich dinner: red wine, roast goose, roasted meat, toast, desserts...

As he watched, Cyril suddenly felt a wave of hunger from his stomach, even though it had only been about two hours since he had enjoyed his own dinner. Normally, he should still be full.

Thinking of this, the appetite that had suddenly surged vanished instantly, like a bubble being pricked.

Although the sudden surge of appetite had vanished, Cyril felt no joy; even as slow as he was, he realized that the hunger from moments ago was abnormal, and the food on this table was abnormal as well.

As he focused his attention, the exquisite and abundant dinner on the table suddenly became thin—thin in the physical sense.

Though it remained exquisite, it gave him an extremely unreal feeling, as if... as if it were merely painted on.

While he was deep in thought, Owen had already reached out to grab the chicken leg in front of him; he was truly famished, and everything here consisted of high-end ingredients—even when his parents were still alive, he hadn't eaten such a sumptuous dinner more than a few times.

I'll just eat a little, just a little...

Besides, this food belongs to the gang anyway; they surely bought it with money stolen from others, so I'm just confiscating their ill-gotten gains.

As he built up his mental defenses, he took a large bite of the chicken leg in his hand.

Smack!

The chicken leg in his hand was knocked away, and he bit down hard on his own thumb, his eyes squinting in pain, casting even his unbearable hunger to the back of his mind.

Cyril looked at him with a stern gaze: "Don't eat it, this is all fake."

"But, I'm really hungry."

Owen looked resentfully at his empty hand, which now bore a row of teeth marks; thinking back to the texture from a moment ago, he licked his lips... it actually seemed quite good, should he bite himself again?