In the evening, the shadows of the carriage and the horses were stretched out long by the setting sun.

Klein, who had already informed Benson and Melissa, had dinner at the Blackthorn Security Company and was heading to the dock area with Old Neil in a public carriage.

He wore his original cheap formal suit because he was worried about conflicts in similar occasions. If he ruined the tuxedo that he had taken so careful care of, it would be more than just a pity.

When the sunlight took on a burning feeling, the carriage stopped. Old Neil, still wearing the classic black robe and round-brimmed felt hat of the same color, walked towards the "Dragon Bar" diagonally opposite without paying attention to other people's eyes.

Even though the bar was a little far away, and even though the door was heavily closed, Klein could still hear the shouts from inside, one louder than the other, as if they were cheering for some "hero."

Just as he was approaching, he suddenly felt something and turned his head to look at the cargo warehouse opposite the bar. He saw a burly man in uniform standing in a hidden place on the roof.

The man was carrying a large gray-white mechanical box on his back and holding a long, complex rifle in his hand.

There is an obvious pipe connecting the gray-white metal box and the rifle of the same color.

"High-pressure steam rifle?" Klein whispered in astonishment. He turned to look at Old Neil and asked, "Can this bar get this kind of weapon?"

This is a military controlled item!

Although extracted phlogiston is used, the size and weight of the high-pressure steam backpack are still astonishing, and only a true iron-blooded warrior can afford it. The bullets launched by it have extremely high speed and amazing destructive power.

With proper aiming, it is almost equivalent to a low-quality sniper rifle.

"What?" Old Neil squinted his eyes and looked over, also with a puzzled look on his face, "Something went wrong here?"

Something happened? Klein looked around and saw several men with rifles searching for something.

"What's wrong?" Old Neil approached the bar and asked the burly man guarding the door.

The burly man obviously knew Old Neil, and he smiled bitterly with his facial muscles twitching:

"The bar was almost demolished just now."

"It is said that a wanted guy came to buy materials and was recognized, so he became like this. My Lord, what did he do? How dangerous is he to be treated like this? Seeing those guns made my legs go weak, even weaker than when I was fooling around with red-haired Sunny for a whole night!"

He had no idea of ​​the identity of the wanted man, and he had no idea that the guys who came here to buy materials were mixed with Extraordinary People.

"A wanted guy? Do you know his name?" Old Neil asked with interest.

"Tris?" the burly man answered uncertainly.

The instigator Tris? Klein nodded suddenly, understanding what was going on.

Tris had no idea that he had been suspected by Joyce Meyer, so he went to the underground market to buy materials. As a result, he was recognized by informants from the "Mechanical Heart" or "The Mandated Punisher" or "Nighthawks", which triggered a fierce conflict.

"Has he been caught?" Klein pointed at his black cane inlaid with silver.

Judging from the surrounding situation, it seems that there is no

The burly man shook his head slightly, pointed his chin at the top of the cargo warehouse opposite and said:

"He rushed out before those scary guys arrived. Wow, I've never seen anyone run faster than him!"

In fact, you haven't seen the true ability of the "Assassin", otherwise you will be taken to an indescribable place for re-education, Klein muttered in his heart.

"Is the trading market still open?" Old Neil asked the main point.

"Just recovered." The burly man answered affirmatively.

"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 walked in. He was almost overwhelmed by the stuffy heat and smell of alcohol.

In the center of the Dragon Bar stood a boxing ring where two shirtless men were fighting fiercely. Dozens of drinkers around them were cheering for their respective opponents, some of whom used vulgar language.

Old Neil ignored them and led Klein around the boxing ring and toward a billiard room in the back.

There were two people in the billiard room holding cues, chatting and laughing. When they saw Old Neil push the door in, they suddenly became quiet for a few seconds.

After confirming who was coming, they quietly made way and allowed Old Neil and Klein to pass through the secret door behind them.

After walking through several rooms, Klein's eyes suddenly opened up and he saw a place as big as a lecture hall in his previous life.

There are people setting up stalls here, which are piled with bottles and jars, and there are people walking among them, examining, communicating, or comparing prices.

"One twentieth of all the profits should be given to Swain. Ah, he is the owner of the Dragon Bar, the former captain of the 'Manufactured Punishers' team, older than me, and an old guy who hopes to die of alcoholism." Old Neil introduced.

Klein thought for a moment and commented sincerely:

“A very profitable business.”

Because the cost is just to provide the venue and shelter.

“If you like an item but don’t have enough money, you can go to Swain to borrow it. Of course, he will charge a very high interest rate.” When he said this, Old Neil gritted his teeth for a moment.

As expected, just like a casino, it provides loan sharking services. Klein held his cane and looked around while asking curiously:

"Mr. Swain is a 'navigator'?"

The captain of the "Manufactured Punishers" team should be at this position in the sequence.

"No, they are just the 'Raging People'. Tingen does not belong to the coastal areas. Here, the Church of the Goddess is more powerful than the Lord of Storms." Old Neil sneered, "In fact, Swain had the opportunity to become a 'Navigator', but he was afraid of losing control and chose to give up."

Klein was about to ask the bar owner if he had ever nearly lost control when he suddenly sensed something strange on his left.

There seemed to be something lurking there, whispering and telling stories.

Klein turned his head and saw a pale young man wearing a worn linen shirt and blue-gray trousers unique to the working class. His eyes were very distracted but revealed madness, and he kept muttering something.

“Is his inspiration too high or distorted?” Klein frowned and whispered.

What just triggered my "inspiration" was the other party's "inspiration"!

Normally, the perception brought about by "inspiration" will definitely produce a certain interaction, and it is almost impossible to hide it from others, but this "others" refers to the "psychic" who has exerted his abilities, and powerful people with similar specialties. It is actually difficult for extraordinary people like Klein to distinguish them in this way. He can only discover it when the other party's "inspiration" reaches a certain level, or there is an abnormal distortion.

As their eyes made contact, the pale-faced young man with messy black hair took a step and walked over with an expression that was half sleepwalking and half crazy.

He stopped in front of Klein and stared at him blankly.

Suddenly, he laughed loudly:

"Haha, the smell of death, the smell of death!"

Before he could finish his words, he suddenly screamed, his eyes tightly closed, and bloody tears flowed out.

"Ah!" "Damn it!" The young man covered his eyes, hugged his head, struggled and rolled on the ground. It took him a while to calm down and lie there gasping.

During the whole process, none of the customers or vendors looked at it.

Klein held his top hat halfway down and stared at Old Neil beside him in amazement, expressing his surprise and inquiry with his actions.

"Don't worry, his name is Admisor, an orphan, nicknamed 'Monster'. He is born with a high level of inspiration. He often sees things he shouldn't see and hears sounds he shouldn't hear. So he often talks nonsense and is often hurt." Old Neil shook his head and explained.

Can he tell that my body has died once? Klein frowned, lowered his voice, and asked in confusion:

"Nighthawk, Mandated Punisher, and Mechanical Heart, have never thought of recruiting him into the team?"

"No, we don't have a sequence potion suitable for him." Old Neil sighed.

Yes, this is equivalent to solidifying half of the sequence. Klein asked curiously:

"So which sequence pathway is suitable for him?"

"The sequence that suits him is called 'Monster'. That's where his nickname comes from. Unfortunately, only the School of Life has mastered the beginning of this sequence pathway." Old Neil replied in a low voice.

He and Klein tried their best to avoid talking to people around them to avoid leaking information to those occult enthusiasts.

Life School? Klein recalled the previous information.

This secret organization appeared in the early days of this era. Its exact origins are unknown, and it is mainly based on master-disciple inheritance.

Their specific theories and beliefs are also rarely passed on. Klein only knows that they divide the world into three layers: the world of absolute rationality, also known as the world of absolute truth; the spiritual world; and the material world.

It is said that this secret organization has also produced a "prophet". Shouldn't this correspond to the sequence path of the "fortune teller"? I don't understand. Klein shook his head repeatedly and watched Admisor struggle to get up and swim to another corner.

He collected his thoughts and followed Old Neil through the stalls, where he found plants such as moonflower, golden orange, and nightshade, as well as minerals such as sterling silver, citrine, and ruby.

“It’s indeed quite complete,” Klein muttered quietly.

The mysticism enthusiasts around him, young or old, male or female, sometimes stopped, sometimes analyzed, and sometimes communicated, making the place quite lively.

"You can look around by yourself, I'll pay the bill." Old Neil pointed to one of the two rooms at the end.

“Okay.” Klein nodded nonchalantly.

Holding a black cane, he slowly walked to a stall selling homemade amulets and looked at it carefully for a while.

Just as Klein was about to speak, he suddenly heard someone in the booth behind him ask:

"Is this the powder made from ox-tooth peony?"

Oxtooth peony? Isn't this the auxiliary material for the "audience" potion? Klein turned around thoughtfully and looked at the questioner.

As for this kind of material, because "justice" was repeated several times at that time, he had memorized it carefully and was deeply impressed.