Street Musician, a Vanished Old Friend

"Purururururu... purururu..."

A Transponder Snail painted with facial markings sat alone on the slanted roof of a tavern, ringing at regular intervals.

Below lay one of Whiskey Peak's narrower streets.

There were not many residents on the street at the moment.

Yet all of them had stopped what they were doing and stared toward the street corner in surprise.

Walking beneath the shadows were a woman carrying a child and a gloomy young man with pointed horns.

Following behind them were seven or eight... pitch-black shadows.

Each shadow carried a bulging sack over its shoulder.

They moved in silence, their footsteps perfectly synchronized.

"Tch."

Moria clicked his tongue in displeasure and glanced at the porters behind him.

"Back in Tenpan City, I cut these shadows off those gang trash. I thought they could make a decent shadow soldier legion."

"Turns out Lin Nuo called them over to do manual labor."

Alice stroked Teach, who was curiously looking around in her arms, and smiled.

"But they've saved us a lot of effort."

"And Moria, your ability is quite convenient in daily life too."

"Convenient..." Moria turned his face away. "Compared to convenience, I'd rather use shadows for fighting."

"Yes, yes, yes." Alice went along with him as her gaze swept across both sides of the street.

"But first, we need to find the market... The roads on this island twist and turn, and I have no idea which direction it is."

At that, Moria's eyes sharpened.

"Gathering information? Just do what Lin Nuo does."

"Grab someone and interrogate them."

The villager targeted by his gaze went pale and retreated behind his companions.

Alice laughed. "No need to interrogate anyone, right? We're only asking for directions..."

Before she could finish, a cheerful guitar melody with a Latin flair flowed out from beneath a nearby eave.

"Strum~ strum-strum~ strum~ strum-strum-strum~~"

Then, a figure slid out with gliding steps, spun once, and stopped in front of Alice.

The newcomer was a man around thirty, with bronze skin and a neatly trimmed short beard on his chin.

He removed his hat with his left hand, pressed it to his chest, and gave Alice a gentlemanly bow.

"My lady, as dazzling as a desert rose." His voice was magnetic.

"I am Carlos, a wandering poet of melody."

"Just now, within the dream of my afternoon nap, I heard destiny's call. May I ask what I can do for you?"

A vein throbbed on Moria's forehead as he looked at this guy who had suddenly appeared.

"Hey! Who the hell are you?!"

Only then did Carlos notice Moria. He tilted his head slightly, his tone flat.

"I am engaging this lady in an exchange on the artistic and fateful planes."

"And you are... who?"

Moria: "..." (His fists clenched.)

Alice gently patted Moria, who looked ready to explode, then nodded at Carlos.

"We have some materials acquired from the sea that we want to sell, but we can't find the market."

"Could you point us in the right direction?"

"Oh! The market!" Carlos swung his guitar onto his back and pointed toward the other end of the street.

"Follow this road straight ahead."

"At the second intersection, turn right, then pass through a cactus garden. You'll see the marketplace."

"Thank you very much."

Alice nodded her thanks, then naturally turned around and gestured to Moria.

"Let's go."

"My lady," Carlos stepped forward, "if you do not mind, would you allow me to guide you there?"

"In exchange, I only ask that you tell me your name."

"And..."

He spoke eagerly, only to discover that Alice and Moria had already walked away without looking back.

Carlos's hand, still holding up his hat, froze in midair.

He watched Alice's receding back thoughtfully.

"Warm on the outside, cold within... Interesting."

He put his hat back on and lightly plucked a guitar string with his fingertips.

"Still, I like it."

Meanwhile.

On the eastern side of Whiskey Peak, in a quiet area near the foot of the mountain.

Lin Nuo and Stockton stopped in front of a low mud-brick house.

Lin Nuo looked around at the desolate surroundings and could not help commenting.

"It feels like a secret meeting spot for underground agents."

"Maybe... he prefers a quiet environment."

Stockton awkwardly adjusted his glasses, stepped forward, and knocked on the door.

"Milan? It's me, Stockton."

There was no response.

Stockton knocked again, harder this time. He pressed his ear close to listen, but the inside remained deathly silent.

He tried pushing the door, but it would not budge. It seemed to be bolted from within.

"Strange..."

Stockton circled the mud house once.

The house had only a front door and a rear window, and the rear window was locked from the inside as well.

"I'll do it."

Lin Nuo stepped forward and motioned for Stockton to move back.

Bang!

The door and its frame flew inward together, smashing into the floor and kicking up a cloud of dust.

Lin Nuo entered first. Flames ignited behind him, illuminating the room.

The room was small, only around ten square meters.

"Milan?" Stockton covered his mouth and nose as he entered, calling his old friend's name while quickly scanning the room.

There was no one there.

Lin Nuo moved closer, and the light of his flames clearly illuminated every corner of the room.

On the table sat a lamp with less than half its oil remaining and several open books.

"Something's wrong..." Stockton frowned deeply.

"The book is open to this page, and the pen was left here. He must have left only recently, or..."

He crouched down and looked at the floor.

"There are no footprints leading out."

Stockton's voice turned grave.

Lin Nuo crouched as well and examined the area carefully.

Then he looked at the door bolt. It had been fastened from the inside, tightly enough that it had only broken when they kicked down the door.

"The doors and windows were all locked from the inside." Lin Nuo stood up. "There are no signs that he left, but the man is gone."

He looked at Stockton and slowly voiced his conclusion.

"It's as if he vanished from this room into thin air."

Stockton's face turned pale. He thought of those precious rubbings, but he was even more worried about his old friend's safety.

Just then, a noisy argument suddenly came from outside, drawing closer.

"What gives you the right?! That's my last emergency food supply! I was saving it for a rainy day!"

"Don't be so stingy! The festival concerns everyone! Everyone else has contributed, so why should you be the exception?"

"Exactly! They're only some dried meats! Once the festival is successful and more tourists come, are you afraid you won't earn it back?"

"You... you're robbing me!"

The argument grew more heated, mixed with shoving and the sound of things falling to the ground.

Lin Nuo and Stockton exchanged a look and walked out of the house.

Not far away, three rough-looking men were surrounding an old man, shoving and shouting at him.

The old man clutched something to his chest while one of the men tried to snatch it away.

The old man staggered from a shove, and the bag in his arms flew from his hands, scattering dried meat all over the ground.

Seeing this, Stockton immediately rushed forward.

"Stop! How can you be so barbaric!"

One of the men looked up, saw Stockton, and shouted angrily.

"Where did this bookworm come from? Mind your own business and get lost!"

Without hesitation, he swung the wooden club in his hand and viciously brought it down toward Stockton's head!

Stockton had not expected the man to be so unreasonable and froze for a moment.

The next instant—

A hand shot out from the side and seized the whistling club.

Crack!

The club instantly shattered into splinters that scattered across the ground.

"Who were you planning to knock with that toothpick?"

Lin Nuo turned his head.

The expressions on the men's faces froze. Their bodies remained locked in the posture of swinging the club, rigid where they stood...