After two consecutive days of snowfall, the brief sunny weather seemed to dispel the haze lingering over the city-state, and the frost awakened again as usual - snowplows and snowmelt equipment began to clear the snow on the main roads, the old high-pressure gas pipelines and power systems once again withstood the test, and factories and public transportation systems began to operate again.

The sounds of various vehicles and machines gradually became louder as the sun rose.

However, beneath the surface of this gradual awakening, a strange and tense atmosphere gradually spread in the city - even ordinary people in the city finally noticed this change in atmosphere.

Initially, it was news from newspapers. The urgent regulatory notice issued by the city hall made those who were more sensitive to news smell the atmosphere of uneasiness. Then various rumors came from the coastal streets. The news that the sea fog fleet appeared near the city-state spread like wildfire. Then, all kinds of true and false news spread on the streets.

The recent frequent deployment of the city-state's security forces, the guards gathering around several cemeteries, the terrifying news coming out of certain neighborhoods - mixed with the bizarre stories about the "return of the dead" that began to spread in the city a month ago, all these disturbing things seemed to suddenly come together and began to spread quietly in the city.

The city-states on the vast ocean are like crowded pigeon cages. There is a vast ocean between cities, but people can hear each other. Nothing is more difficult than delivering messages between city-states, and naturally nothing is easier than delivering messages within a city-state.

But even so, life still has to go on, and the uneasy news only spreads in the streets, but the citizens still go out and work as usual. At most, they talk about the strange atmosphere in the city when they squeeze onto the bus or meet in the pub - a little pressure is not enough to disturb the operation of a city-state.

In the final analysis, people living in this world have long been accustomed to the haze in life. To them, it is normal for some bizarre things to happen in the city. The sabotage activities of cultists and the occasional night freaks are all part of daily life - a city that can still be peaceful and harmonious after dark is abnormal to them.

At the intersection of Cemetery No. 4 and Oak Street, a tavern called "Golden Flute" is gradually becoming lively.

Most of the citizens going to work in the factory from the neighborhood will pass by this intersection in the early morning. As a cheap tavern for the public, "Golden Flute" is the best place for everyone to stop before going to work. It not only provides drinks, but also provides decent coffee and simple breakfast, which are perfect for filling the stomach and keeping away the cold. Chatting with people here during breakfast can be a little entertainment before starting a busy day of work.

The bartenders were busy shuttling between several round tables, the waiters were greeting customers behind the bar, and the warm yellow light from the roof dispelled the winter chill. A middle-aged man with a thin face and dry yellow hair was sitting on a chair not far behind the bar, casually flipping through the newspaper in his hand while paying attention to the situation in the store out of the corner of his eye.

The store seemed a bit noisy, with the occasional crude jokes or unbridled swear words - most of the people who came here to dine were not the so-called "upper class citizens", but ordinary people who went from the downtown to the industrial belt to work. They gathered here and took advantage of the breakfast time to discuss what happened in the downtown or factory area, or to comment on the recent changes in the city-state.

Most of their views are superficial and boring, and no one cares about their opinions on the city.

As long as they don't fight in the store, everything is fine.

The middle-aged store manager with dull yellow hair turned the newspaper to the next page and yawned with a bit of boredom.

Then, he felt that the surroundings seemed to become a little quieter - and then, it seemed that something blocked the light pouring down from above.

The store manager looked up and saw a burly figure standing in front of him.

The man was wearing a pitch-black windbreaker that reminded people of nightfall. The high stand-up collar covered most of his face, and his wide-brimmed hat pressed down like a dark cloud, blocking out any prying eyes from the outside world. In the few gaps between his clothes, all that could be seen were layers of bandages.

The majestic gaze is hidden in the shadow of the low-pressed top hat.

A sense of oppression that was hard to ignore visually came towards him. The middle-aged store manager with dry yellow hair felt his heart almost stop instantly, and panic appeared in his eyes involuntarily. His first reaction was to mistake the other party for a clergyman of the Death Cult - because those devout priests liked this "bandage outfit" that was a bit excessive for ordinary people. But then he realized that the man in black was not wearing the church's triangular mark, nor did he carry the special walking stick that was standard equipment for the guardian.

After a moment of panic, the middle-aged store manager forced himself to calm down. He saw that there were three people behind the burly figure, a young lady of equally astonishing height, an old man with kind eyes, and a blonde woman with a veil on her face and a noble and mysterious temperament. His thoughts raced.

The "guest" who came specifically for me, judging by his attire, he was definitely not a good person. The heavy aura he exuded could even make me breathless... Was he the secret sheriff of the central city? Or someone sent by other forces in the Leng Leng Sea? Why did they come to me? To threaten, to win over, or... to ask for something?

He put the newspaper aside, stood up calmly, and looked up at the man in black in front of him: "Who are you looking for?"

"Mr. Nemo Wilkins," Duncan noticed the panic and nervousness in the eyes of the middle-aged man in front of him. It was obviously due to his momentum, but he did it on purpose - he was observing the other party's reaction, which could expose the other party's most real emotional changes and help determine whether a person has been affected by cognitive interference or memory correction. "Is this your name?"

"Everyone here knows my name," Nemo Wilkins nodded, and waved gently to the clerk not far away, "Are you here to see me? But I'm just an honest businessman..."

"There has been a lot of fog on the sea lately, and the wind is cold," Duncan said slowly, reaching into his arms and taking out the map of the city-state prepared by Tirion himself. "We need a cup of good wine to warm our stomachs - preferably one that can warm the hearts of the dead."

The moment he heard the words "There is often fog on the sea and the wind is very cold", Nemo's breathing changed slightly, and then his eyes fell on the city-state map.

This "store manager" hid all his emotions and eye changes very well. In fact, apart from the momentary changes in his breathing and heartbeat, there was nothing unusual about him from the outside. But even such a small reaction did not escape Vanna's eyes.

"It looks like it's him." Vanna said softly.

Duncan nodded slightly and put away the folded map: "Is there a seat on the second floor?"

"The seats upstairs are full," Nemo shook his head, "Come with me."

As he spoke, he walked out from the counter and led the uninvited guests to a door next to the stairs.

The tavern was still noisy, and even if someone noticed the movement at the counter, no one paid much attention to what was happening.

Duncan and his group followed Manager Nemo. They passed through the slightly short wooden door and entered a passage that seemed to lead to the warehouse behind the store, but then they entered another door in the middle of the passage and walked down a long distance along an inclined ramp - until they felt that they were far away from the tavern on the surface, they stopped in front of a dark wooden door.

"This place is really deep." Morris couldn't help but mutter.

"It's better to be cautious. People who are related to the Sea Mist Fleet are not welcome in this city," Nemo Wilkins said as he walked towards the door. "The enemies are everywhere - even if half a century has passed."

"How did you dig out such a place under the noses of the city-state authorities?" Vanna's focus was different from others. As an inquisitor, she was more concerned about the skills of a "gray middleman" to hide in the city-state. "How do you dig such a long tunnel under a tavern, how do you transport the stones and soil? How do you hide the noise during the excavation?"

Nemo Wilkins turned his head slightly and glanced at the tall lady with white hair. He said with a smile, "It's very simple - there's no need to dig. This is part of the Frost Underground Waterway."

As soon as he finished speaking, the dark door opened with a creaking sound, and the glow of the gas lamp shone into the eyes of Duncan and his group.

Along with it, there was also the faint sound of flowing water coming from nowhere.

Duncan looked past the door and saw an extremely wide "hall" opposite. It seemed to be the intersection of ancient sewers. In the distance, he could see a corridor extending into the darkness. There were tables, chairs, beds and shelves placed in the corners of the hall, which looked habitable.

Even a lot of people can be stationed there.