After hearing Franka mention the promotion, Lumian suddenly felt that it was time to make some preparations.
It wasn't that he didn't want to become a Sequence 7 "arsonist" and really master enough mystical means, but the previous "Hunter" and "provocateur" potion formulas were all gifts from the "magician" lady, and they were too easy to get, so he was not in a hurry at all, just waiting for the "provocateur" potion to be completely digested, and then write to contact the "magician" lady to see what price he would have to pay in exchange for all the things needed for promotion. More importantly, Lumian knew clearly that the "magician" lady had a copy of the "arsonist" extraordinary characteristic, but now thinking about it carefully, he felt that he still had to make some extra preparations: The "magician" lady was most likely not a "hunter" path, and might not really have the "arsonist" potion formula, and she might have given the "arsonist" extraordinary characteristic to someone else.
After all, it is impossible that Lumian is the only one who got the Little Arcana card, and it is also unlikely that all of them got it through other means.
Of course, given the lady's status and ability, it wouldn't be too difficult for her to get the "Arsonist" potion formula and the corresponding main materials. But she might not be willing to do so, or she might delay for a long time.
Lumian glanced at the wooden box lying on Franka's lap as he thought about it, and after a moment of hesitation he said, "Sell it."
Although the evil sickle was extremely sharp and could absorb the enemy's life through blood, which was very suitable for his close combat style, it was too inconvenient to carry and could not be hidden. It had great limitations on the occasions of use. Most of the time, it could only be placed in the Breeze Ballroom or the Golden Rooster Hotel to be used when someone attacked him, or in an active raid, he would take it out in advance and cover it up with the night. In order to carry it with him all the time, the only way Lumian could think of was to carry a cello box on his back. For a gang leader, this was very suspicious.
In fact, if Franka hadn't mentioned that he needed to prepare for the promotion, Lumian began to feel that the four thousand Fergold on him was a bit far from enough, and he needed to raise more funds. He didn't mind keeping the evil sickle called "Harvest Festival", after all, it could still be useful in some occasions. If it really didn't work, Lumian could use the "Peeping Glasses" to disguise himself as a musician, carry a "cello" on his back, and assassinate the corresponding target.
Hearing this, Franca sighed and said, "I have no choice but to sell it. It's actually quite good, but it doesn't quite match my fighting style." She then pointed at Lumian's waist and said, "How about we each get a bottle of those potions?"
Franka was not too interested in the "Rage Potion" and "Bark Potion" and only wanted the "Scorpion Venom" and "Healing Potion". But considering that Lumian also needed to apply poison to his weapons and perform some treatment, she chose the most conventional solution.
"Okay." Lumian agreed.
In the dark night, outside No. 126 Market Avenue, several policemen in black uniforms set up a cordon to prevent passers-by from approaching the building behind them.
Inside the house, Angouleme de Francois, with his blond hair, golden eyebrows and golden beard, stood in front of the statue of a woman with soft features, staring at the bloody words on the wall. He had a row of gold buttons on his chest and remained silent, which made the surrounding "Purifiers" members and the police who assisted them feel suppressed.
After a while, the "Purifier" member with southern continental descent came out of the basement, walked to Angouleme, and said in a low voice: "Deacon, there are obvious traces of worshiping evil gods underground, and there are a number of dead and living sacrifices." The cell door had been opened, and some of the kidnapped people escaped. The rest told me that Black Scorpion Roger was indeed using evil magic. "Angouleme listened expressionlessly, looked around, and said to the surrounding police: "So many people are missing, didn't you notice? Who told me that there are only a few controllable Beyonders in the market area, and if they are arrested, it will lead to the entry of new gangs and bring greater chaos?"
The angry voice echoed in the living room of 126 Market Avenue, making every policeman bow his head. At this moment, Angouleme suddenly turned his head and looked at the female statue with soft features. He vaguely felt the anger there, which flashed away.
Angouleme's body was covered with a layer of gold. He stretched out his right hand and opened the belly of the statue. There was a space there that could accommodate a curled-up human.
There was a brown-green seed lying quietly inside the hole, which turned into powder when blown by the wind.
The second floor of Breeze Ballroom.
Lumian suddenly frowned.
"What's wrong?" Franca asked.
Lumian didn't know whether he should be happy or confused, and replied: "Just now, my Provocateur potion was completely digested."
"What we just did, did we provoke some important person?" Franca guessed: "That Ms. Yue or the official Beyonder?"
“It’s all possible.” Lumian didn’t want to think about it. It was a good thing anyway. It meant he could start to advance to Sequence 7 “Arsonist”!
This also made him intuitively realize a situation: it is not necessary to summarize all the role-playing rules in order to thoroughly digest the corresponding magic potion.
After summarizing some of your own role-playing rules, as long as you play properly and constantly receive feedback, you can completely use the accumulation of times or time to digest the potion.
Therefore, most extraordinary people, without knowing the "acting method", can also rely on time and chance to digest the potion...
Lumian murmured something in realization.
After distributing the potions and deciding to sell the other spoils for money, Lumian said goodbye to Franca and deliberately took a walk around the Breeze Ballroom before leaving Market Avenue and returning to the Golden Rooster Inn.
As soon as he reached the second floor, he saw the door of room 206 was open, and the light of the calcium carbide lamp shone into the dark corridor. When Lumian passed by, he looked inside and found Gabriel wearing his favorite black overalls, sitting on the bed, observing the corridor outside.
"You're finally back!" The playwright stood up happily.
Lumian raised his right eyebrow: "You haven't been arrested by the police yet?"
"..." Gabriel didn't know how to answer for a moment. After a few seconds, he couldn't hide his joy and said, "Mr. Nathan Lope didn't call the police. He signed a contract with me and bought my play. He said he wanted to give me a down payment of 1,500 Felkins, but considering that we scared him, he deducted 500. When the play is officially staged, I can get 2.5% of the ticket revenue for each show."
Lumian laughed. "I thought it was Revolver who made him agree, and he would definitely regret it later. I didn't expect that your script really touched him."
If you think so, why do you still do that? Gabriel instinctively complained. He explained: "Mr. Lope understands the eccentricity of artists and doesn't mind similar things. He said that his last mistress was a female painter who not only raised a sheep on his balcony, but also wanted to try to seduce a man. She prepared fake props for this and tried to convince him that they broke up because of this."
“You Trier people.” Lumian, the prank king of Cordu Village, couldn’t help but sigh.
Gabriel was from the provinces, not from Trier, and didn't care about Charles's ridicule. He said sincerely: "Thank you very much, although I don't quite agree with your method, but without you, my script would never have been seen by Mr. Lope."
At this point, Gabriel asked with some confusion: "Mr. Lop said that we writers were not careful at all and covered our faces only when we arrived at his door. After he chatted with the security guard in charge of the lobby, he knew what we looked like. Once the police are called, none of us can escape. Why didn't you cover your face in advance when you tied up the security guard?" Gabriel felt that as a gang leader, Charles should not be so careless.
Lumian calmly asked back: "Why do you want to lie?"
Gabriel asked blankly, "Why did you get confused again?"
Lumian replied calmly, "Because Janna was confused."
What kind of logic is this? Even as a playwright, Gabriel felt that he could not understand Charles's thoughts. He could feel that Charles was not in a normal state last night, but he did not know the specific reason and it was difficult to deduce.
The other party's mental state and the root causes of their behavior.
Gabriel sighed and said, "Fortunately, the result was good, otherwise we would all be caught by the police..." At this point, he paused, because he remembered that Charles was the leader of the Savoy Party, and every crime he had committed was more serious than last night.
Lumian laughed and patted Gabriel on the shoulder. "Even if you are caught, you are just an accomplice. You don't have any weapons. You can be bailed out with some money."
After saying that, he walked towards his room and opened the door of 207.
Gabriel looked at Charles' back, feeling a little confused and a little relieved.
In room 207, Lumian carefully examined the "Corrupted Mercury". He felt that if the dagger was not repaired, it could only last for three months.
"In fact, you can ask Franca. She might know a few people who can repair magical items and extraordinary weapons." Lumian half closed his eyes and started to "communicate" with "Corrupted Mercury". After a while, he knew what fate he had in return: the fate of Black Scorpion Roger drinking heavily.
Lumian immediately put away the Corrupted Mercury, stood up, left the room, and went up to the third floor. He walked to the door of Room 310 and heard the madman still shouting in panic: "I'm dying, I'm dying."
Lumian took out a piece of wire, opened the door, and saw the madman squatting on the moonlit ground, holding his head and shivering.
Lumian half leaned against the door frame and laughed: "You are lucky. The ghost of Montsouris has not come to kill you yet. I don't know if it is too busy or slacking off."