As evening fell, the shadows of the carriages and horses were stretched long by the setting sun.
Klein, who had already spoken to Benson and Melissa, had dinner at Blackthorn Security Company and was now traveling by public carriage to the Dock Borough with Old Neil.
He wore his usual inexpensive suit because he was worried that a conflict might occur in similar situations—it would be more than just a pity to damage his carefully maintained tuxedo.
As the sunlight took on a fiery glow, the carriage came to a stop. Old Neil, still dressed in his classic black robe and matching round-brimmed felt hat, walked oblivious to the stares of others towards the " Evil Dragon Bar " diagonally opposite.
Even though the bar was a bit far away, and even though the doors were heavily closed, Klein could still hear waves of cheers coming from inside, seemingly cheering for some "hero."
As he approached, he suddenly sensed something, turned his head and looked at the warehouse opposite the bar, where he saw a burly man in formal attire standing in a secluded spot on the roof.
The man carried a large, grayish-white mechanical case on his back and a long, complex-looking rifle in his hand.
There was a clear pipe connection between the gray-white metal box and the rifle of the same color.
"A high-pressure Steam rifle?" Klein murmured in astonishment, turning to look at Old Neil. "This bar can get its hands on a weapon like that?"
This is a military-controlled item!
Although it uses extracted phlogiston, the size and weight of the high-pressure Steam backpack are still astonishing, requiring a true Warrior to carry it, and the bullets propelled by it have extremely high speeds and considerable destructive power.
With proper aiming, it's almost equivalent to a low-quality sniper rifle.
"What?" Old Neil squinted and looked over, equally puzzled. "Something happened here?"
Something happened? Klein looked around and, sure enough, saw several men carrying automatic rifles searching for something.
"What's wrong?" Old Neil asked the burly man guarding the door as he approached the bar.
The burly man clearly recognized Old Neil, and his facial muscles twitched as he gave a wry smile:
"The bar was almost demolished just now."
"I heard some wanted guy came to buy materials, got recognized, and that's how this happened... My God, what did he do? How dangerous was he that he deserved to be treated like this? Seeing those guns made my legs go weak, weaker than after a whole night with redhead Shanny!"
He had no idea who the wanted person was, nor did he know that the people who came here to buy materials included Beyonder.
"The wanted guy? Do you know his name?" Old Neil asked with considerable interest.
"Call him... call Tris?" the burly man answered uncertainly.
" Instigator " Tris Klein nodded in realization, understanding what was going on.
Tris was unaware that Joyce Meyer had already suspected him, so he brazenly went to the underground market to buy materials, only to be recognized by informants from the " Machinery Hivemind," " The Mandated Punishers," or " Nighthawks " teams, which led to a fierce conflict.
"Has he been caught?" Klein tapped his black cane inlaid with silver.
Judging from the surrounding situation, it seems that...
The burly man shook his head slightly and pointed with his chin to the top of the warehouse opposite, saying:
"He broke free before those terrifying guys arrived! Wow, I've never seen anyone run faster than him!"
Actually, you haven't seen the " Assassin's" true skills yet, otherwise you would have been taken to an indescribable place for re-education... Klein muttered to himself.
"Is the trading market still open?" Old Neil asked, getting to the point.
"Just recovered," the burly man answered confidently.
"That's good." Old Neil took two quick steps, stretched out his right hand, and pushed open the heavy door.
Klein followed closely behind and went inside, almost overwhelmed by the sweltering heat and the smell of alcohol.
In the center of the " Evil Dragon Bar " stands a boxing ring where two shirtless men are fiercely fighting, while dozens of patrons around them cheer loudly for their respective opponents, some of them uttering vulgarities.
Old Neil ignored them and led Klein around the boxing ring to a billiards room at the back.
Inside the billiards room, two men were chatting and laughing with cues in hand. They fell silent for a few seconds when Old Neil pushed the door open and walked in.
Upon confirming who was approaching, they quietly stepped aside, allowing Old Neil and Klein to pass through the secret door behind them.
After walking through several rooms, Klein suddenly saw a place the size of a lecture hall from his previous life.
Here, some people set up stalls piled high with bottles and jars, while others walk among them, examining, exchanging ideas, or comparing prices.
"All the profits go to Swain, one-twentieth. Ah, he's the owner of the Evil Dragon Bar, the former captain of the ' Mandated Punishers ' squad, older than me, and an old guy who wants to die from alcoholism," Old Neil muttered as he introduced him.
Klein thought for a moment and then gave a sincere evaluation:
"A very profitable business."
Because the cost is only to provide the space and shelter.
"If you see something you like but don't have enough money, you can borrow it from Swain, but of course, he'll charge very high interest..." Old Neil said through gritted teeth.
Sure enough, just like a casino, they offer loan sharking services... Klein, holding his cane, looked around and asked curiously:
"Is Mr. Swain a ' Navigator '?"
The leader of the " Mandated Punishers " squad should be in position Sequence 7.
"No, just the ' Raging Folk.' Tingen isn't on the coast; here, the Church of the Goddess is more powerful than the Lord of Storms." Old Neil chuckled. "Actually, Swain had the opportunity to become a ' Navigator,' but he was afraid of losing control and chose to give it up."
Just as Klein was about to ask the bar owner if he had ever almost lost control, he suddenly sensed something strange on his left.
Something seemed to be lurking there, whispering and telling its story.
Klein turned his head and saw a pale-faced young man wearing a tattered linen shirt and blue-gray trousers typical of the working class. His eyes were unfocused yet filled with madness as he muttered something incessantly.
"His Spirit Intuition is so high... or Distortion?" Klein frowned and muttered.
What just sparked my " Spirit Intuition " was actually the other person's " Spirit Intuition "!
Normally, the perception brought about by " Spirit Intuition " will definitely generate some interaction and is almost impossible to hide from others. However, "others" refers to " Spirit Medium " who have used their abilities, as well as powerful figures with similar special skills. It is actually difficult for Beyonder like Klein to identify them in this way. Only when the other party's " Spirit Intuition " is high enough or exhibits abnormal Distortion can he detect it.
As their eyes met, the pale-faced, disheveled young man strode over, his expression a mixture of sleepwalking and madness.
He stopped in front of Klein, staring blankly at him.
Suddenly, he laughed loudly:
"Ha ha, the taste of death, the smell of death... ah!"
Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly screamed in agony, his eyes snapped shut, and bloody liquid oozed out.
"Ah!" "Damn it!"... The young man covered his eyes, clutched his head, and struggled and rolled on the ground for a while before calming down and lying there panting.
Throughout the entire process, not a single customer or vendor glanced at the scene.
Klein pressed down on his top hat, staring dumbfounded at Old Neil beside him, expressing his astonishment and desire for guidance through his actions.
"Don't worry about him. His name is Admisol, an orphan nicknamed ' The Monster.' He has a natural high level of Spirit Intuition and often sees things he shouldn't see and hears things he shouldn't hear, so he often talks nonsense and gets hurt," Old Neil explained, shaking his head.
"He can tell that this body of mine has died once?" Klein frowned, lowered his voice, and asked suspiciously.
" Nighthawks, the Mandated Punishers, or the Machinery Hivemind have considered recruiting him into their teams?"
"No, none of us have a suitable Sequence Potion for him," Old Neil sighed.
Yes, this is equivalent to having half of the Sequence initiation fixed from the start... Klein asked curiously again:
Which Sequence Pathway is best suited for him?
"His suitable Sequence 9 is called ' Monster,' which is where his nickname comes from. Unfortunately, only the School of Life has mastered the origin of this Sequence Pathway," Old Neil replied in a low voice.
He and Klein kept their conversations discreet, avoiding anyone around them to prevent information from leaking to occult enthusiasts.
The School of Life? Klein recalled the materials he had read earlier.
This Concealment organization emerged at the beginning of this era, its exact origins are unknown, and it primarily operates through a master-disciple system.
Their specific theories and beliefs were rarely revealed to outsiders. Klein only knew that they divided the world into three layers: the World of Absolute Rationality, also known as the world of absolute truth; the world of spirit; and the world of matter.
It's said that this Concealment organization has even produced a " Prophet "... Shouldn't this correspond to the Sequence Pathway of a " Seer "...? I don't understand, I don't understand... Klein shook his head repeatedly, watching Admisol struggle to get up and wander to another corner.
He composed himself and followed Old Neil through the stalls, where he found plants such as the Moon, citronella, and night-blooming jasmine, as well as minerals such as sterling silver, citrine, and ruby.
"It is indeed quite complete..." Klein muttered to himself.
The mystical enthusiasts around him, whether old or young, male or female, would sometimes pause, sometimes try to understand, and sometimes exchange ideas, making the place quite lively.
"You can look around by yourself, I'll go pay the bill." Old Neil pointed to one of the two rooms at the far end.
"Okay." Klein nodded nonchalantly.
He carried a black cane and strolled slowly to a stall selling homemade amulets, examining them carefully for a while.
Just as Klein was about to speak, he suddenly heard someone from the stall behind him ask:
"Is this powder made from Ox Teeth Peony?"
Ox Teeth Peony? Isn't that an auxiliary ingredient for the " Spectator " Potion? Klein turned around thoughtfully and looked at the person who asked the question.
Because the word " Justice " was repeated several times at the time, he, who was already trying to memorize it, was deeply impressed by this material.