On a foggy morning, Klein sat at his dining table, breaking up the oatmeal bread he had bought and soaking it in milk, trying to improve the way he ate it.

Although his body had changed a long time ago, his pursuit and obsession with food were engraved in his soul. He was completely unable to adapt to the monotonous and repetitive breakfast style of the Kingdom of Loen, so he could only try as much as possible, not sticking to toast, bread, bacon, sausage, butter, and cream. He worked hard to expand the boundaries and enrich the way of eating. For example, he added popular southern pork pies, Fenapot noodles, and baked corn pancakes to his recipes.

“The caviar from the Feysac Empire is not bad, but it’s too expensive. It’s only suitable for formal banquets…” Klein scooped up a small piece of softened oatmeal bread with a spoon and stuffed it into his mouth. After just a little chewing, he could feel the wheat-scented milk flowing out, and the aftertaste of the bread became even sweeter.

After finishing breakfast, Klein put down his fork and spoon. He didn’t rush to clean up. He picked up the newspapers that had just been delivered and started reading leisurely.

I'll do a divination later. If nothing else, I'll go visit Mr. Leppard on Sage Street in St. George's District to see if his new means of transportation is worth investing in... Backlund is really big. Each district is almost equivalent to Tingen City. The East District is especially exaggerated, at least twice as large... The most convenient and cost-effective way to travel is to walk to the steam subway and then walk again, but it's a bit of a waste of time... Klein's thoughts were wandering aimlessly.

——Backlund's public carriage system is similar to Tingen's, and the pricing is similar. The only problem is that most of them are limited to a single district. If you want to go from Cherwood to St. George, you need to transfer several times along the way, so the price will naturally go up.

This situation makes the prospect of new forms of transportation very attractive.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

At this moment, a loud knock on the door like a hammer echoed back and entered Klein's ears.

Who is it... He didn't even know to ring the doorbell... He muttered a few words, straightened his collar, walked to the door, and reached out to open it.

The person who appeared before him was an acquaintance, the plateau man who had chased little Ian on the steam subway before, the plateau man with dark skin, deep eye sockets, and a thin and strong build.

According to Klein's "spiritual communication", his name is Meursault, the "executioner" of the Zmanger Party, a leader of a high position.

"Excuse me, who are you looking for? Do you want to entrust me with something?" Klein deliberately showed some confusion.

Meursault wears a black coat and a ostentatious silk hat, but he does not look like a gentleman at all.

He looked at Klein coldly and asked in Loenese with a strong plateau accent:

"Are you Sherlock Moriarty?"

"Yes." Klein answered simply.

Meursault nodded stiffly:

"I want to ask you to find someone."

“Come inside and tell me the details.” Klein didn’t let himself show any abnormality.

Meursault shook his head indifferently:

"unnecessary."

After saying this, his eyes suddenly became sharp:

"The person I'm looking for is called Ian, Ian Wright. He has bright red eyes, is about fifteen or sixteen years old, likes to wear brown, old coats and round hats of the same color. I think you should know him."

Klein laughed and said:

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

Meursault seemed not to hear the other party's denial: "He is a thief who stole a very important item from me. If you can find him, you can get a reward of at least 10 pounds."

"You provided too few clues." Klein made up an excuse.

"30 pounds." Meursault gave a new offer.

Klein glanced at him and said:

"No, that goes against my confidentiality."

"Fifty pounds," Meursault responded coldly.

“…I’m sorry, I won’t take this mission.” Klein was stunned for two seconds, and finally chose to refuse.

Meursault looked at him slowly and deeply for several seconds, his eyes gradually becoming colder and more fierce.

He didn't make any new offers, nor did he say goodbye politely. He turned around abruptly and walked quickly to the end of the street.

This gang's intelligence capabilities are pretty good... They even knew that Ian had come to see me before... Klein sighed inwardly, but he didn't feel too worried or afraid.

After all, I have faced the offspring of the evil god head-on, even though there was a layer of skin between us… As he thought about it, his smile suddenly became bright, and he began to toss a coin to decide whether to go out today.

The answer is yes.

…………

Saatchi Street, St George's.

After taking a horse-drawn tram, a steam subway, and a trackless tram, Klein finally arrived at his destination, spending a total of 11 pence.

As soon as he stepped out of the car, he found it was drizzling outside, and he didn't bring an umbrella.

"According to newspapers and magazines, this is a daily routine in Backlund. The reason why hats are popular is because ladies and gentlemen don't carry umbrellas all the time..." Klein pressed down his half-high silk hat and ran to the outside of House No. 9. He used the eaves to block the rain.

He brushed off the obvious drops of water on his body and rang the doorbell.

But he did not hear the cuckoo-cuckoo sound, nor did he notice any tinkling noises.

"Is the doorbell broken?" Klein was about to raise his hand to knock on the door when he suddenly heard footsteps approaching from afar.

The figure of the visitor naturally emerged in his mind: a tall, thin man in his thirties with black hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a gray-blue worker's uniform, but he looked gentle and refined.

The door creaked open, and the gentleman rubbed his forehead and said:

"Excuse me, who are you looking for? What's the matter?"

Klein took off his hat and bowed slightly.

"I'm here to see Mr. Leppard. I'm interested in his new mode of transportation."

The gentleman's eyes suddenly lit up:

"I am Leppard, please come in."

He turned sideways to let Klein in, but there was no coat rack in the hallway.

Crane could only rely on his cane and follow Leppard to the living room without taking off his coat.

It has to be said that this gentleman's home is very messy. There are many mechanical-related items on the coffee table in the living room alone, such as wrenches, bearings and screwdrivers.

"How much do you want to invest? Oh, by the way, do you want coffee or black tea? Um... it seems we're out of black tea..." Leppard blurted out.

This gentleman is a bit straightforward. He doesn't seem to be very good at interpersonal communication... Klein thought for a moment and changed his planned words. He answered directly:

"I have to see your new mode of transportation before I can make a decision."

"I can't make promises without knowing anything."

As he spoke, he looked around and saw the triangular holy emblem hanging on the wall.

This is the symbol of the god of steam and machinery, with a solid triangle filled with symbols such as steam, gears and levers.

Leppard was not disgusted by Klein's direct approach and said immediately:

"I'll take you to see it."

As soon as he finished speaking, he slapped his head and said, "I almost forgot. We must sign a confidentiality agreement first to ensure that you do not steal my invention."

Mr. Leppard, your memory isn't that good either... Klein smiled and said:

"no problem."

After signing a simple contract, Leppard led Klein into the room that was suspected to be the living room. He connected it with the guest room and basement next door, making it much wider and more spacious.

There were many parts scattered on the ground, and a rough object half a person's height that looked like a carriage stood in the center.

In addition, the doorbell wire is also connected here and cleverly arranged. As long as someone pulls the rope, the mechanism will pop out a steel ball, allowing it to roll along a special track, hitting something in the center and producing a corresponding echo.

The sound was certainly not too loud, but it was enough to wake up Leppard, who was obsessed with machinery.

"Is that the new form of transportation you invented?" Klein pointed at the rough object in the center.

"Yes, I invented it based on the imagination of Emperor Roselle!" Leppard replied with fanatical eyes.

“Emperor Roselle’s imagination?” Klein asked in astonishment.

Leppard explains in an adoring tone:

"Emperor Roselle left behind a manuscript that depicts his imagination of various future mechanical devices. He is truly an outstanding genius, no, a master! Many things in it have become reality! Haha, this manuscript is kept in the Church of Steam and Machinery. If you are not a devout believer, you cannot borrow it."

...Emperor, are you going to leave any chance for others to survive?... Klein's mouth twitched, and he almost couldn't keep his smile.

"Please give me a detailed introduction." He changed the subject.

Leppard led Klein to the rough metal object, opened the door and said:

“It’s a form of transportation that doesn’t require horses.”

"The driver sits in the front left and keeps stepping on the pedals, connecting the four wheels through levers and chains to make them roll forward. On top of the wheels, I use rubber to inflate, which will make the ride smooth."

So, it's a human-powered car? Klein couldn't help but complain.

He considered and said:

"With such a large carriage and at least four passengers, it's probably impossible to travel very far relying solely on people."

"This is exactly my next goal, to reduce the weight and increase the leverage! But my financial situation is not optimistic and I can't afford more attempts." Leppard looked at Klein hopefully.

"Why not consider other methods? For example, using steam as power?" Klein said slowly while organizing his words.

Leppard shook his head. “This has already been invented, but it’s very large and has difficulty driving on many streets.”

This is what Klein was waiting for:

"Then why don't you make a simpler one, for example, one with only two wheels, that can only carry one person, and without a shell."

"You mean the bicycle type?" Leppard asked as if he was thinking.

It's in Roselle's manuscript? Klein nodded heavily:

"Yes."

"The bicycles invented by others are not very practical... simplifying this one... seems to be a good idea, and it is indeed different... but who will buy it?" Leppard said to himself.

Klein gave the direction without hesitation:

"Postmen, working class people with some savings, businessmen who don't need much respect but can save money... There are many of them in Backlund."

Leppard thought for a while, nodded slightly and said:

"...I can try, but I don't have the money to buy the parts..."

"I will invest 100 gold pounds in you. Together with my suggestion just now, I will own..." Klein hesitated, whether to say 10% or 15%. After all, 100 pounds is not too much, strictly speaking.

"You can own 35% of the shares! But it is limited to the bicycle project you described!" Leppard said first, fearing that the other party would make too high a request.

"Deal!" Klein said with a smile. "Let's draft a simple contract first to finalize this matter. I will then find a lawyer to make a formal contract and add some detailed clauses. For example, if anyone else wants to invest, they must get my consent first."

"No problem," Leppard replied eagerly, wanting only to buy the parts quickly.

…………

In the darkness brought by the continuous rain, Klein returned to Minsk Street in Cherwood District.

He entered the house and went straight to the bathroom on the first floor, where he comfortably solved the problem of his bloated abdomen.

Crash.

The sound of running water echoed back into the room, and Klein bent down to wash his hands.

At this moment, a picture suddenly appeared in his mind:

The wash mirror reflected him with his head lowered, the dim environment, and a pair of eyes on the side.

A pair of eyes!