An Exquisite Dinner

After receiving the revelation he wanted from the Fate Crystal Ball, Cyril directly pulled Owen toward the nearest wall. A burst of deep-blue light swept past, and the two vanished from the street.

Before long, lights came on one after another in the surrounding houses, followed by the homeowners' curses and shouts.

Clearly, traveling through walls had avoided some eyes and crowds, but not all of them.

However, the startled homeowners would at most think that thieves had broken into their homes. They would never imagine that someone had treated their houses like streets outside, passing through at will.

In a dim corner beyond the reach of the streetlamps, deep-blue radiance flashed past. Cyril and Owen stepped straight out of the nearby wall.

Both of them were slightly out of breath. That method of traveling in a straight line had not been easy for them.

"I'm exhausted. It felt like we were running for our lives."

"The East District is too densely populated. Aside from the washrooms, there isn't a single place they won't cram people into. There's no way to move through quickly without being seen."

Owen raised a hand and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, deeply agreeing. Thinking of those living rooms covered in floor bedding, bedrooms packed with bunk beds, and even corridors occupied by bedboards and pallets, there had been several times when they had not even had a place to set their feet.

For an ordinary person, the journey had been more than thrilling enough. Some of those who spotted them had only cursed, but others had immediately pulled out the knives they carried—and even firearms.

Once he caught his breath, he suddenly sighed. "No wonder you were so reluctant to use Beyonder Abilities for travel before. With a bit of bad luck, you'd end up right in front of someone else's gun."

Cyril fell silent for a moment. The only reason he had not used a Beyonder Ability to travel before was because South Bridge District was too far from the East District. If he knew Teleport, he definitely would not have chosen a carriage.

After pausing, he still followed Owen's words and casually sighed. "All I can say is that sometimes, even Beyonder Abilities lose to reality."

Owen nodded, then asked, "Where do we go next?"

Cyril raised a hand and pointed toward a house ahead whose glass windows still glowed faintly.

"We've already reached Blood Axe Gang territory. What comes next is simple: avoid their sentries as much as possible, then clean the place out."

"Be careful. We're here to loot valuables, not fight gangsters. Even if we're discovered, try not to confront them head-on. A fragile Apprentice like me can't take a Highlander's punch."

Owen reached down and touched his waist, saying in a low voice, "I brought a gun."

"You think they don't have any?" Cyril asked. After resting for two seconds, he added,

"Besides, guns are too loud. Once a shot is fired, everyone nearby will be alerted. Even if we can travel 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 sounds inside for a while, he pressed one hand against the bricks outside.

Deep-blue light rippled beneath his palm like water, forming a blurry door with no real substance. The two passed through it without the slightest obstruction.

The next second, they appeared in a pitch-black kitchen. It was a complete mess, greasy stains and food scraps everywhere, as though no one had ever cleaned it.

Owen quickly swept his gaze around, then frowned slightly. "This is way too messy. Aren't those Highlanders worried that food made in a kitchen like this will cause bacterial infections or food poisoning?"

Cyril frowned as well, though not because of the filthy environment. He felt something watching him—and something drawing him in. There seemed to be something highly enticing in this house, secretly watching him.

Was this an accident brought about by the Fate Crystal Ball? It seemed better to use this kind of divination with side effects less often. One of these accidents might eventually exceed what I can handle.

Collecting his thoughts, he looked around the kitchen and said thoughtfully, "The grease stains are still fresh, and there's no smell of decay in the air. This kitchen clearly only became such a mess within the past few days."

"The Fate Crystal Ball's revelation pointed to the upper floor of this house. It should be the Blood Axe Gang's storeroom, 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. "Don't worry, I came prepared. Sleeping or not, I can make them sleep like the dead."

As he spoke, he took a grayish-white bone talisman from his pocket.

"This is a Slumber Charm. It can make a single creature, or creatures within a certain area, fall into deep slumber."

"If you don't designate a target for Slumber, it can probably cover an entire room, though the effect will be weaker. Still, it's more than enough for ordinary people. Without outside interference, they can sleep peacefully until tomorrow morning—or even noon."

"Not bad."

Cyril gave Owen an approving look. Against ordinary people, talismans that created area-of-effect results like this were the most suitable. They also would not leave behind too many Beyonder traces and attract the attention of the official Beyonders.

As he thought, he reached into the left pocket of his coat. He had two Slumber Charms identical to the one Owen held, purchased at old Mr. Eye of Wisdom's gathering.

Unfortunately, he had not managed to buy a gun. Some of the people attending the gathering had ways to obtain firearms and even Beyonder bullets, but he would have to wait until the next gathering.

By the kitchen door, Cyril pressed his head against the door and listened to the sounds outside. Only after confirming that no one was out there did he grasp the handle and gently twist his wrist.

Click.

The locked door opened with ease. The so-called lock was practically nonexistent before him.

There were no lights in the dining room outside the kitchen, only a fireplace burning beside the wall. Its dim yellow flames barely illuminated half the room.

Someone had apparently thrown all sorts of junk into the fireplace. The entire dining room was filled with a scorched, foul smell.

Owen wore a mask over his face, but he still could not help frowning. "It stinks. Are gangsters' living conditions this terrible now?"

Cyril remained silent. He was feeling restless. The hidden sense of being watched made him uneasy for no reason, yet he did not want to leave. That thing was full of temptation, as though it was very important to him. Moreover, his spiritual intuition had not sensed any danger nearby.

Owen suddenly passed him and strode toward the middle of the dining room. "What a lavish dinner. Are these Highlanders expecting some important guest?"

"It doesn't look like anyone has touched it yet. Should we eat some? I'm getting a little hungry."

As he spoke, his throat suddenly moved, producing an audible gulp as he swallowed.

Following the sound, Cyril saw Owen standing before the long table in the center of the dining room, his eyes shining. Before him was an exquisite, abundant dinner: red wine, roast goose, roasted meat, toast, desserts...

As he looked, Cyril suddenly felt hunger rise from his stomach. It had only been about two hours since he ate dinner. Under normal circumstances, he should still have been full.

At that thought, his sudden appetite vanished at once, like a bubble being popped.

Though the sudden appetite had disappeared, Cyril did not feel relieved. No matter how slow he was, he realized that the hunger he had just felt was abnormal—and so was the food on the table.

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

It was still exquisite, but it gave him an intensely unreal feeling, as though... as though it had been painted there.

While he was thinking, Owen had already reached for the chicken leg in front of him. He was simply too hungry, and these were all premium ingredients. Even when his parents were still alive, he had rarely eaten such a lavish dinner.

I'll only eat a little. Just a little...

Anyway, this food belongs to the gangsters. They definitely bought it with money stolen from others. I'm confiscating their ill-gotten wealth.

As he justified it to himself, he took a huge bite at the chicken leg in his hand.

Smack!

The chicken leg was knocked flying from his hand. He bit down on his own thumb instead, the pain making him squint as even the unbearable hunger was thrown from his mind.

Cyril looked at him sternly. "Don't eat it. It's all fake."

"But I'm really hungry."

Owen looked resentfully at his empty hand, now marked with a row of teeth marks. Thinking of the texture from just now, he licked his lips... It actually tasted pretty good. Should I bite myself again?