Al Hassan echoed:

"Indeed, it is hard to imagine that the sequel to 'The Fortune Teller' would be 'The Joker'. According to normal logic, no one would connect them together."

"Is this strange? I remember that many sequences of potions lacked the necessary connection between the two." The black-haired lady Lolota yawned with her hands covering her mouth. It was obvious that her injuries were quite serious, so that even the "Goddess's Gaze" could hardly keep her energetic.

"No, Lolota, this is completely different. Even if other sequence potions have no connection, we can still find certain common points from other aspects. But this is not the case with 'Fortune Teller' and 'Clown'. I totally cannot understand it." Al Hassan shook his head and sighed.

Klein listened to their discussion and laughed.

“No, there is still something in common.”

"What is it?" Al asked curiously, and Dunn's arm flexion and extension movements also slowed down significantly.

Klein answered seriously:

"Whether it's a 'fortune teller' or a 'clown', you can find them in the circus."

"Al, Dunn and Lolota were stunned for a moment.

"Pfft, that's a good answer. I like young people like you!" The black-haired lady Lolota was the first to come back to her senses and laughed out loud.

Al smiled, shook his head and said:

"In this day and age, there are fewer and fewer gentlemen who can laugh at themselves. Fortunately, we met another one today."

Do you think I like to make fun of myself? Didn’t I think of other common points? Klein muttered to himself and replied with a slightly bitter smile:

"I just hope that the names of 'Beast Tamer', 'Acrobat', 'Magician', etc. will no longer appear in the potions of this sequence. That would really form a circus."

And it's still a one-person group

"Haha." Dunn and others were immediately amused by his words, and the carriage was filled with a cheerful atmosphere.

The carriage moved forward all the way to Zouteland Street. Klein, who was not seriously injured, was the first to enter the Blackthorn Security Company.

"Goddess! What happened to you? How did you become like this?" Luo Shan took a casual look and exclaimed in surprise.

Klein looked down at his dirty and torn suit and replied with a still distressed look:

"There are always unexpected things during missions. Fortunately, with the goddess' blessing, the ending is happy."

"Praise the goddess!" Luo Shan devoutly drew a "scarlet moon" on her chest.

Without waiting for Klein to speak, she took the initiative to ask:

"Do we need to go to the third floor to hide again? Is that sealed object really that dangerous?"

“Believe me, it’s more dangerous than you think.” Klein replied with lingering fear.

If I didn’t have a more mysterious “lucky change ritual”, I would have died at “2-04” today!

"Goddess," Roshan's lips moved, as if she had a lot more to say and questions to ask, but considering that the captain was waiting downstairs, she finally resisted the urge and called Mrs. Orianna and others to go to the third floor - next to the Blackthorn Security Company. Upstairs and downstairs, either belonged to the church or were inhabited by devout priests who vaguely knew the situation.

After all the civilian staff had evacuated, Klein did not rush to the entertainment room to inform other night watchmen. He immediately returned to assist the captain and others in escorting the sealed object "2-04", the remains of the monster Biber, and the Antigonus family notes to the second floor.

Through the partition, Dunn pushed open the door of the entertainment room and said to the two night watchmen who were playing Gwent:

"Frye, Luo Yao, go to the Tyrell Warehouse in the dock area immediately and assist Leonard with the follow-up."

"Okay." Ms. Luo Yao, who had black hair and a cold expression, stood up first.

Fry, the "corpse collector" with black hair, blue eyes and pale skin, stood up straight.

They put down their Gwent cards and walked out of the recreation room, pausing noticeably as they passed through the partition.

"Wait." Dunn shouted in response to everyone's expectations.

"Is there anything else?" "The Insomniac" Luo Yao turned his head and asked without changing his expression.

“Remember to notify the police and have them block the road. Don’t let anyone get close until you have dealt with the scene and brought the body back.” Dunn tapped his forehead and said.

"Okay." Luo Yao turned around, took two steps forward, and paused again.

She turned around, blinked, and confirmed coldly:

"Captain, is there anything else?"

"No." Dunn answered firmly.

Luo Yao nodded imperceptibly and walked towards the door first.

However, Frye, the "corpse collector" with a cold and gloomy temperament, still maintained a moderate speed.

At this moment, Dunn spoke again:

"Remember, remember to tell Roxanne and Mrs. Aureliana that they can come down now."

"No problem." Frye replied calmly with almost no emotion.

After watching the two night watchmen walk out of the gate and climb to the third floor, Klein breathed a sigh of relief. He followed the captain, Al, and the others into the underground, and walked straight all the way to the Chanis Gate.

“Go to the armory and find Old Neil. We need his ritual magic for healing.” Dunn instructed Klein while signaling the Unsleeping One, Coenley, to open the Chanis Gate.

As the effect of the potion wore off, his spirit gradually weakened.

"Okay." Klein didn't wait for the captain to add anything. He said, "I will take over Old Neil's duty in guarding the armory. I will also apply for at least 20 more demon hunting bullets and wait for the approval of the Holy Temple. I will also resist my curiosity about the Antigonus family's notes."

"" Dunn couldn't find the words to respond for a moment.

“Captain, is there anything else?” Klein asked with a smile after he finished answering the question.

Dunn shook his head, still unable to speak.

After taking out his cane, he turned around, walked a distance, and headed to the armory. He told Old Neil, who was drinking water, what had happened.

“You turned into an out-of-control monster and killed a Beyonder?” Old Neil quickly cleaned up the table. “It felt like I was listening to a play script.”

He muttered as he walked around the table, heading straight for the corridor, without even waiting for Klein's answer.

Klein asked curiously:

"Mr. Neil, doesn't the church have any real healing potion? We actually need the help of ritual magic."

"Potions made with ordinary materials cannot solidify the healing effects of the ritual for a long time. Extraordinary materials are very rare, and most of them are not suitable for this kind of thing." Old Neil explained casually, "You should know about 'Goddess's Gaze'. When this potion was first made through the ritual, it was a standard, real healing potion, but after every minute, the effect evaporated until only a little bit was left."

“Is that so?” Klein nodded with a little disappointment.

As a former "keyboard adventurer", that is, a game enthusiast, my longing for healing potions is really a matter of habit.

After watching Old Neil leave, he sat down and felt the peace that he had not felt for a long time.

In such peace, he recalled the tragic death of the Tuxedo Clown, his own cold-blooded shooting, the hideous wound and the blood gushing out.

Klein's body began to tremble, and his heart was filled with discomfort. He first stood up, then sat down, and then slowly repeated the process, interspersed with walking back and forth.

"Huh," he let out a breath, planning to find something to do so that he wouldn't always think of those bad scenes.

Klein took off his hat and suit, took out his handkerchief and brush, and carefully cleaned the dirt and dust off his clothes.

After an unknown amount of time, he heard the familiar sound of Old Neil's footsteps - the special sound of the heel landing first.

"It's so exhausting," Old Neil complained as he walked into the room.

“Tell the others not to come here for an hour. I need some rest.” He glanced at Klein and gave a casual order.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and rest while I watch over here?” Klein suggested kindly.

Old Neil shook his head:

"It's too noisy up there. Little Roxanne is a girl who can't stop talking."

“Okay.” Klein didn’t insist. He put on his coat and hat, picked up his cane, returned to the corridor, and half-closed the door of the armory.

Tap, tap, tap, he walked slowly in the empty corridor, and suddenly saw a room next to him that he had never seen before.

"There is a secret door here." Klein stopped near the corner and looked towards the room.

He discovered that the "corpse collector" Frye had returned and was examining a completely stripped corpse in detail.

Corpse? Klein's heart moved, and he mustered up the courage to approach the room and knocked three times on the open door.

Boom, boom, boom.

Frye stopped moving, turned around, and looked over with his blue and cold eyes.

“Sorry to bother you. I just want to know if this is the body of the Beyonder?” Klein asked in a measured tone.

"Yes." Frye's thin lips opened and closed, but only one word came out.

Klein looked past him and towards the corpse. As expected, he found the familiar hideous wound on the forehead.

It was that clown in the tuxedo. Klein sighed secretly and said:

"Did you find anything?"

"No," Frye replied with unusual brevity.

The atmosphere suddenly became awkward. Just as Klein was thinking about leaving, Frye took the initiative to speak:

"If you feel sick, you can come in and see it, you will see it is just a dead body."

Are you afraid that I have a mental disorder? Klein nodded thoughtfully:

"OK."

He entered the room, walked to the long table covered with a white cloth, and looked at the body.

The red, yellow and white paint on the tuxedo clown's face had all been removed, revealing a nondescript unfamiliar face with black hair, a high nose bridge, and he was about thirty years old.

At this time, Fry walked to the square table in the corner and picked up a pencil and a piece of white paper.

He returned to the corpse, placed a piece of white paper, picked up a pencil, and started drawing.

Crane took a curious look and found that Frye was actually sketching the head of the Tuxedo Clown.

Not long after, Frye put down his pencil, and a lifelike portrait appeared on the white paper. Compared with the corpse, it only had no wounds and only had blue eyes.

What a talent! Klein exclaimed in amazement:

"I didn't expect that your sketching would be so good."

"Before becoming a Nighthawk, my dream was to be a painter." Frye's tone was flat.

"Then why don't you realize your dream?" Klein asked doubtfully.

Frye put down his pencil and held up the portrait of the clown in tuxedo.

"My father is a priest of the goddess and he wants me to become a priest, which is a respectable enough profession."

"Have you ever been a pastor?" Klein asked again in astonishment.

He found it hard to imagine a man of Fry's character and temperament being a pastor.

"Well, I did not do badly." Frye replied with a cold expression and a slight upward curve at the corners of his mouth. "Then I encountered some things and experienced some things, and then I became a Nighthawk."

Klein didn't bother to ask about other people's secrets in detail, but instead asked:

"You were once a priest of the goddess, so why didn't you choose the 'Unsleeping One'?"

"A personal reason," Frye answered calmly, "and Ms. Daly is a good role model."

Klein nodded and was about to change the subject when he heard Frye say:

"Help me watch this place. I need to hand the portrait over to the captain immediately. It's very troublesome to close the secret door."

“Okay.” Although Klein was a little afraid of facing the corpse alone, he still forced himself to agree.

As Frye left, the room became quiet. The body lay there, weighing heavily on Klein's heart.

He took a deep breath and approached the long table as if trying to overcome himself.

The clown in tuxedo lay quietly, his face pale, his eyes closed, and he had lost all breath. In addition to the hideous wounds on his body, he also exuded the unique coldness of a dead person.

Klein stared for a while, and his mood gradually settled down and seemed to calm down.

Glancing over, he noticed a strange brand on the wrist of the Tuxedo Clown, so he boldly reached out to touch it, wanting to turn it over to see it more clearly.

Just as the cold feeling entered Klein's brain from his fingertips, the pale, lifeless hand suddenly sprang up and grabbed his wrist.

Grasped his wrist tightly!

ps:/, first update, please vote for recommendation