"Hello, what's the matter?"
Jenkins asked again.
"I live in the next room. Just now... Did you make any noise here?"
The tall man asked hesitantly, and squinted into the room, but of course he couldn't find anything unusual.
"Sound? Oh, sorry, I just fell asleep at my desk..."
Jenkins muttered vaguely, smoothing the folds of his clothes as he spoke. The man who knocked on the door nodded, apologized in a low voice, then turned around and knocked on the number six room behind him.
Room 6 also had a guest, a fat woman with her hair wrapped in a turban. After the check was correct, the man knocked on the door of Room No. 4, just to be on the safe side.
A long time after the knock on the door, the man with the white cat opened the door. He looked impatient, carrying a black suitcase, as if he was about to go out.
"Damn, what are you going to do? I don't know you!"
The owner of Room No. 4 is not as polite as the two just now. In fact, judging from his appearance and clothes, it can be seen that he is an extremely rude person. But the tall man who knocked on the door didn't mind. He politely asked the question before turning and leaving.
"This unlucky place, damn it!"
Jenkins, who returned from Room 5 to Room 4 by using [Real Phantom], cursed again in a pretentious manner, turned around and closed the door, and then walked down the stairs with the box and the cat.
When he stepped out of the hotel, he looked up thoughtfully. At this time, room No. 7 on the third floor also happened to stick out its head and look down. It was the young Duke.
Jenkins raised his hand, took off his hat and waved at him, with a mocking smile on his lips, then turned and walked to the other side of the alley.
"Follow him!"
The foreign noble was stunned, and then shouted. But when a group of people came down from upstairs and dispersed to look around in the alley, the man with the cat just now had disappeared.
They couldn't make too much noise, otherwise the damn guy might not be the only one who knew about it. But the situation is still not good now, because no one knows how much he has heard.
Provence Lucar, now known as "Mr. Wilkavan", the bestower of the undead was the last to come out of the inn.
He was dressed in black like a guest going to a funeral. He walked thoughtfully to the position where Jenkins had just stood in the alley, and then looked up with the same movement as him.
Wilkawang suddenly stretched out his slightly rough right hand and twisted the neck of the Duke's guard standing aside. The left hand drew a complicated symbol in the air, and then the soul floated out of the corpse.
He was chanting whispers that no one could understand, and at the same time, a piercing wind blew from the entrance of the alley. Everyone, including the benefactor, couldn't help shivering, and subconsciously moved away from the young man who was playing with the soul in some panic.
He opened his right hand and kneaded the soul into a small ball, then suddenly pressed it to his forehead. The gust of wind immediately began to swirl around him, carrying the floating dust on the ground into the air, surrounding him like a tornado.
Obviously the weather did not change, but the light around suddenly became weaker. The foreign young duke beckoned his men to back off, squinted his eyes, and weighed in his heart whether it was the right choice to make a deal with such a dangerous guy.
But even with such a complicated set of movements, "Mr. Wilkawang" only got a mouthful of blood in the end.
His complexion was very ugly, but it was not because of his own injury, but because of the result of the evil divination just now:
"I can't see the past or the future. The twisted fate of that person just now... Oh, believer of the God of Lies! He really knows..."
"You mean those lunatics?"
The countenance of the foreign duke changed drastically. Even if he was not a native, he had heard of the outlaws who had been active since the end of last summer. It was a group of unknown but ruthless people with both wisdom and force. Last year's Fabry deception was one of the conspiracies they wove.
Some people believe that the real purpose of the deception is actually related to the change of the position of the God of Lies...
"How could you provoke such a madman!"
He immediately accused.
"I provoked?"
Will Kawan turned around and looked at him fiercely:
"You didn't tell me the truth, what exactly is [Performer (Red Fighter)] that you want from me?"
"It's just a rare ability!"
The Duke clenched on this point, then raised his neck and tightened his neckline, allowing the guards to surround him.
"Remember our deal, I don't want such an accident to happen again! Remember, those believers of the God of Lies must not be provoked. According to my investigation, they seem to have the ability to appear on key occasions. There are very good fortune tellers."
"Of course I know."
Wilkawang snorted coldly, not admitting defeat, even though the opponent's power was indeed amazing. But this is the Kingdom of Fidiktli, not the Kingdom of Cheslan. Those powers in this city are just a good-looking symbol.
"The next time we meet, we will follow our agreement."
"No problem, but you have to prepare a 'deposit'."
The two groups hurriedly said goodbye in front of the hotel, unwilling to stay in this leaked place. None of them knew how the believers of the God of Lies found this place, but there was no need to think about it at all. After all, it was understandable for those people to appear anywhere in the city.
The Duke and his party chose the East, and although Wilkawang wanted to go there, he couldn't accept following others, especially that arrogant nobleman. So I pulled down the brim of my hat and walked towards the west side of the alley against the wall. After walking out from here, I can directly leave the dock area. It seems that this direction is not bad.
The alley is not narrow, with various shops or hotels on both sides. But in fact, each of them operates some gray business, which is also the norm in the dock area. It seems that those smugglers have already negotiated with the Nolan City Hall. After staying away from the dock area, it is difficult to find a smooth way to ship smuggled goods within the city of Nolan.
From a distance, I saw a boy wearing rag shoes, playing with a hoop with a branch picked up somewhere in front of him in the direction he was walking. This reminded Will Kawan of his childhood. At that time, he was a carefree boy. He never thought that 20 years later, he would be on the road he is now...