After bidding farewell to Miss Sparrow, Gilan left the monastery.
The girl wearing the novice's robe followed to the door, her eyes following the silhouette until the other figure gradually disappeared at the end of the street, then she reluctantly withdrew her gaze and turned back.
Gilan is alone again.
No, his friends are actually by his side and never leave. In addition, there is also his familiar Vivi by his side.
But he knew it very well in his heart.
Only by advancing to level 2 "Foundation" as soon as possible can we completely save our friends and give them a truly stable shelter.
The indescribable sense of urgency and pressure, like an invisible weight, was pressing on his back all the time, making him breathless.
Gilan walked silently along Saint Maud Street to the depths of South Muse.
On the business card of the black market merchant given to him by old Charles, the mailing address was No. Corona Street 74, which was still two blocks away from here.
But he found that the further inside he went, the more crowded the surrounding environment became.
Not only the residences, but also the shops and stores are all row buildings. Often you can't even see an alley after walking a hundred meters.
The buildings here seem to be tightly embedded into one body, leaving no gaps, just to make more living space and accommodate more people.
Therefore, the population density here is quite high.
Occasionally when passing by an alley, with a casual glance, you can see dozens or hundreds of strings hanging inside. Like a spider named "poverty", it has spun a large web called "despair" here, which is airtight.
Densely packed clothes were dried on strings, including old people's clothes, children's clothes, men's and women's clothes, all kinds of cheap and worn-out inner and outer clothes. Starching barrels, chamber pots, all kinds of moldy leather shoes, small benches and other sundries almost filled the alley.
It's like a cramped garbage dump.
Through the gap, you can even see many women in simple clothes and turbans, sitting in a group, holding children with numb faces, chatting for a few words, or in a daze.
Gilan withdrew his gaze and quickened his pace.
About half an hour later, he finally arrived at Corona Street.
This street is filled with a kind of indifference and chaos.
Gilan Not a single patrolling police officer was seen, and few horse-drawn carriages passed by. There were only men smoking in groups on the roadside corners, and passers-by who were in a hurry and left quickly.
The men who gathered together to smoke were wearing smocks or worn-out leather jackets and bonnet berets. They looked evil and glanced around from time to time.
'Poverty and chaos are breeding grounds for gangs.'
Gilan secretly said.
Wearing a high-end black coat and a short top hat, he walked into Corona Street with a swagger and quickly attracted the attention of these guys.
But they didn't come forward to find fault, they just watched indifferently and communicated in low voices.
Gilan When he reached the end of the street, he found that he was being followed from a distance by those guys, but he didn't care.
If these people are not discerning, Gilan wouldn't mind teaching them a lesson.
"Corona Street, No. 74."
Gilan stopped in front of a store named "Granny Ganna Grocery Store" and Whisperer said.
He opened the old and blackened curtain and walked in.
Suddenly, a musty smell of rotting wood and paper hit my nose.
In a dim environment, there is a small store layout, with rusty metal shelves lined up on three sides, leaving two aisles less than half a meter apart.
An old-fashioned counter is on the right, and behind it sits a hunchbacked old woman wearing a red flower tie and a pilled red woolen vest.
"Sir, what do you need?"
The old woman closed the adult magazine in her hand, raised her cloudy eyes, glanced at Gilan, and spoke slowly.
Gilan noticed that the cover of the magazine in her hand showed a burly man with a bright smile, wearing only briefs and posing in a pose showing off his biceps.
"Big Goose." He said the password lightly.
The old woman looked at him for a few seconds, then lowered her head and continued to flip through the magazine.
"Enter from the right aisle. There is a telephone in the room. You must know the number, but please transfer it to Corona Street 47, Mr. Baruch's Photo Studio. The call fee is 1 Melang for 1 minute. Remember to pay when you come out."
She said without looking up.
Gilan frowned slightly.
We are in the same neighborhood and have such complicated contact details.
But he also guessed that even if he went to the photo studio on No. 47 in person, he might not be able to find the black marketeer named "Bondo·Rio".
Only by following their procedures can you contact them and trade with them.
Thinking of this, he nodded to the old woman, then took a step forward and moved sideways through the container aisle.
Pushing open the innermost wooden door, Gilan walked into the cramped room.
Although the house is simple, it is quite neat and tidy. It seems to be the old woman's bedroom. However, the walls are covered with naked posters of various handsome men and beauties, and are also hung with all kinds of sexy clothes, props, stockings and other sundries.
Gilan ignored these, walked straight to the corner, picked up the microphone and receiver, and turned it on the dial.
Click, click, click...
He first dialed 666-144 according to the number on the business card, and then dialed 000 to the local telephone station.
Soon, after the operator transferred the call, an old and deep male voice came from the receiver in Gilan's hand:
"Hey, this is Mr. Baruch's Photo Studio, who are you looking for?"
"I'm looking for Bondo·Rio. I have business to discuss with him."
Gilan raised the microphone and said.
"Whatever you want, you can tell me directly."
"Does Mercury Battery have it?"
"..." There was silence on the other side of the receiver.
But soon, the other party said again:
"Have you brought enough money?"
"Of course." Gilan said lightly. "I want as much as I want."
"I can see that you are very sincere."
The old man over there spoke in a gentle tone.
"Guest, are you interested in learning about our special product 'Record Society'?"
Gilan's eyes narrowed.
Record Society?
These black market businessmen are actually members of the secret society Record Society?
Mr. Stork once said that Record Society is a large secret society with branches located all over the empire. The current situation is not impossible.
"What special product?" Gilan asked in a deep voice.
"A very mysterious work of art, presented in the form of a video tape, which records fascinating and profound content."
"Well, I'm very interested in what you said."
Gilan's eyes flashed.
"Can I have an interview?"
"..." There was silence for a few seconds again. "Just wait a moment, someone will come to find you."
"Okay."
Click.
Toot toot...
Gilan hung up the phone, looking thoughtful.
If these people are really members of Record Society, then they must have True Film Reel in their hands. Maybe I can use this to watch new stories again and get Mystery Points and benefits from it.
'I just don't know if they have any mysterious materials?'
He walked out of the bedroom with anticipation.
But the person who greeted him was the old lady wearing a red woolen vest.
It's just that the look on the other person's face looked a little sinister, and he was holding an old-fashioned single-shot long-barreled shotgun in his hand.
The old lady was standing at the door, and six strong men gathered behind her, each holding a Borchardt Pistol in their hands. These men were the same guys who had gathered on the roadside to smoke, suspected of being gang members, and followed Gilan all the way.
"Sir, don't be nervous."
The grocery store owner, Granny Ganna laughed.
"These people are all subordinates of 'Big Goose', and we will escort you to see him... You know, the environment here is dangerous, and as a guest, we have to take care of your safety, right?"