Mystery: The Ancient God is Actually Me

Different from the noisy and crowded first and second floors, the third floor, which is specially set up for the editor-in-chief and the newspaper president of the Daily Observer, was relatively quiet at this time.

Accompanied by the new Prime Minister, Agusid Negan, the brother of the famous Duke Negan, took office and took the opportunity to accept the new president's office of the "Daily Observer". A mix of imitations and treasures almost constitutes a small museum.

Sitting behind the large mahogany desk, President Magath, who was playing with a bone scepter-shaped decoration with both hands, proudly showed off his trophies to Dunn, who was sitting in the guest seat.

"Mr. Evans, this is a treasure I obtained from a city-state leader of a Highland Kingdom when I was still serving in the Kingdom Army."

He rubbed the surface of the slightly yellowed bone product, his eyes were half-squinted, and there was almost only a slit left on his fat face.

"Don't look at it, it doesn't even have gem decorations, and it doesn't even have the gold that the people of the southern continent have always admired. Hehe, this is a ritual item used by the local city-state to sacrifice to the **** of death. When we interrogated the servant of the native leader, they told me this even It is a treasure handed down from generation to generation by a Bailang royal consul in the middle of the Bailang Empire and given to the leader at that time."

Dunn stared blankly at the bone ritual scepter in Magath's hand, and said indifferently:

"Perhaps this is just the claim of the natives of the colonies. After all, those scholars in the kingdom said that the colonists would only rhetoric and make up some illusory history for themselves."

"Oh, that's impossible. I found some professors from Backlund University later, and they also told me that this is at least an item from the Fourth Epoch, and it's a relatively rare thing." Magath shuddered suddenly, his expression exaggerated, and subconsciously refuted Dunn's doubts.

In this regard, Dunn didn't argue any more, just turned away his eyes that had become deep for some time, and shrugged his shoulders like a young man.

From the perspective of Spirit Vision, the short bone staff in Magath's hand did not contain substantial power, but there was also an invisible whiteness that lingered on the relief surface everywhere.

It is a long-term sacrifice of living people, and presides over ceremonies related to the necromancy field, and the accumulated death breath, although it is not like the real "death" path magical items and sealed items, which directly cause the weakness and death of living beings, but if it lasts for a long time Contact may still unknowingly eat away at the owner's life.

Heh... Wearing a burgundy coat, Dunn, who has been dressed relatively young recently, shook his head with a smile, and looked around casually, his eyes constantly passing over pale or dark blue colors.

In this office, which is no less than some private museums, most of the items are in a similar state to the bone short staff that Magath cherishes, and they are all stained with blood and despair.

"If there's nothing wrong, I think I'll disturb you." Dunn, who was forced to stay by the very adventurous president just now, got up and said calmly.

With a bloated body, Magath, whose movement was restricted by the long table and chairs, was stunned for a moment. He wanted to say something with his slightly open mouth, but along with the blankness of his eyes, his eyelids suddenly started to fight.

Suddenly, the president fell asleep in his comfortable chair.

Dunn, who had already sorted out the folds of his clothes, took a deep look at Magath, who was holding a short staff, then turned around and pushed open the door of the office.

Outside the double-opened office door, the editor-in-chief of "Daily Observer" is guarding the door at this time, and further away is the president's secretary who was sent away by him.

Seeing Louis Evans coming out, the editor-in-chief who had followed Magath to "fight" around the southern continent immediately came up.

"Mr. Magath is a little tired, I won't disturb you for now." Dunn took a step ahead, his tone contained an apology, he blocked the slightly opened mouth of the editor-in-chief, and walked quickly to the stairs, leaving a blank expression on his face. Chief Editor and Secretary.

It took about a second or two for the editor-in-chief to sort out Dunn's refusal just now. He gently pushed open the wooden door of the president's office with a suspicious look, and peeped through the gap less than a finger's width.

In the gap, the figure is fat, and the president of the year is not seen falling asleep with his head down, his hands still clinging to the center of the short bone stick, close to his chest.

"Strange, is it because the president's old problem has been committed again?" The editor-in-chief, who had an incredible look at his old boss, carefully closed the door with his feet and frowned.

............

"So this is the disguise you're talking about?" Klein, who had put on a dark blue half-old workman's uniform, still maintained the appearance of Sherlock Moriarty, but took off the black acetate glasses on the bridge of his nose and looked at him. Mike Joseph in front of him had a complicated tone.

The reporter, who was wearing a standard gentleman's attire just now, just put on an unclean coat and had a few clumps of fake mustache stuck on his face, and told Klein that he had disguised himself.

Looking at the questioning face of the employer in front of him, Klein, who thought there was nothing wrong with him, couldn't help twitching the corners of his mouth. It took a lot of effort to dispel the urge to raise his right hand to cover his face.

Is this the "ignorant" middle class?

This outfit is even better than when I was just "traveling", better than Benson's best clothes at the time... Klein, who has created some pigmentation on his face by using magic items, makes his skin look even more vicissitudes , at this time is no different from some workers who live better in the Eastside.

"Have you always investigated like this before?"

Mike, who was checking the fake press card in his pocket, nodded and said hesitantly:

"Is there anything wrong? This is how some tabloid reporters and trainee reporters usually dress."

"It's less likely to be noticed by the gangsters in the Eastside. They won't care about these reporters without background."

After all, from previous experience, every time he goes deep into the eastern district and goes deep into the lower level to investigate, he can always get more consultations by dressing like this. The gangsters in the general management area will not drive them away, but sometimes they will take the initiative to contact and help some small factories. The owner takes the line.

Klein, who slowly put the "substitute" glove in his pocket on his right hand, breathed a sigh of relief, and said in a low voice:

"But there are some places that reporters can't reach. This kind of dress is still too conspicuous in the East District."

As he spoke, he shook his head, but before Mike frowned in doubt, he turned his head and continued:

"Of course, this may also be a good way. I can play the role of the guide you hired. You will contact you in general places. I am only responsible for maintaining safety. If I encounter some difficult objects, I will come back."

As Klein explained, he picked up the cane that he had just put aside from beside him, and reached out to take the handbag that Mike used to hold the sundries.

As a guide, he can reasonably bring his weapon hidden in his cane, so that even if he encounters real danger, he can successfully resolve it.

"This may also be a good method, Sherlock, I think you are more and more professional." With the help of his usual experience, Mike, who quickly sorted out the logic, nodded and agreed with a smile.

After the final inspection, Klein followed Mike out of the temporarily rented hourly room.

Hesitating that the weather is good today. When the streets in the East District didn’t come to Klein a few times before, there was wet mud on the ground, but the dry and hard black mud was still everywhere. It was relatively clean in the Chowood District. The air, at this moment, also returned to Backlund's history, full of pale yellow, slightly choking look.

Mike and Klein shuttled through the pale, yellowish, mist-shrouded street, fighting the coldness of the air with only their firm clothes.

"I can't believe it. It's noon now. The air and weather in Backlund are getting worse and worse." Mike, who was covered in a coat, muttered and complained, his eyes constantly sweeping the streets with great effort. , looking for what you want.

"Oh, like this, I don't even know how to find a suitable interviewee."

It was just revealed this morning, but it was the tenth "devil" murder that occurred early yesterday morning at the junction of the Eastern District and the Backlund Bridge District. The deceased lived in the Eastern District, but worked at the dock near the Backlund Bridge. female staff.

Mike, who had already learned some of the information about the deceased through the internal channels of the newspaper, shared it with Klein more enthusiastically, speaking quickly.

"This woman who just died has also been a street girl, even not long ago, and according to our internal channels, she should belong to a better-looking group."

Noticing that Klein's eyes gradually became weird, Mike, who had always seemed unserious, hurriedly explained:

"Don't get me wrong, it was discovered by the forensic doctor when they cleaned up the body of the deceased. Even in a golden rose, this woman is a good looking type."

Golden rose? The kind that look good?

Klein's eyes were even more strange.

But this time Mike did not continue to explain what the golden rose is, just shook his head slightly, and continued:

"But it's a bit strange, Val, who was at the police station at the time, said that the forensic doctor found that the lady's body seemed to have strange sarcomas and growths, like, like, it grew out of nowhere, and the flesh was fresh. ."

After thinking for a while, Mike patted his head and found the adjective for when.

Suddenly grown, the meat is very fresh? Klein chewed on the weird words protruding from his employer's mouth, and shuddered subconsciously.

He knows why!

Although the Extraordinary of the church should have discovered the clue, the forensic doctor of the Siviras Field did not know that the deceased was an Extraordinary before his death.

And the Extraordinary who is good at the flesh and blood domain, can quickly heal wounds, and may grow malformed sarcoma on his body, is most likely the "Secret Prayer", the Extraordinary sequence that Aurora will master!

But that lady should be a low-rank Beyonder. I remember that the low-rank "Secret Prayer" doesn't seem to have the ability in the realm of flesh and blood magic... Klein suddenly felt a contradiction.

No, how did I judge that she was a low-sequence Beyonder?

Klein suddenly recalled that he himself hadn't really come into contact with the Beyonder characteristics that the lady had revealed, and he hadn't even really carefully observed the corpse with his spiritual vision.

Maybe I can ask Mr. Aigron in a side-by-side manner, I remember that he finally took away that Beyonder characteristic... Klein gradually restrained his thoughts and returned his attention to his work.

In just five minutes of his mind wandering, Mike had found the goal he wanted.

He set his sights on a bar that was still crowded with many customers even during the day.

Of course, this is not the one that Klein accepted as a bounty hunter.

However, the same thing is that there are still various notices posted everywhere in this small bar. There are many middle-aged men who are not tall and aged at the same time. They are squatting in the corner, waiting to accept the task. It happens that people who don't know the language come.

Mike, who wanted to get in touch with the potential connection behind the incident, did not care about these details, but went straight to the bar placed in the middle and rear of the bar, his mouth was already open.

But before he rashly asked, Klein, who had been following him, suddenly took a step forward, blocked in front of him in advance, and knocked on the table familiarly.

"A glass of 'half and half'."

The bartender, who was about to fall asleep, looked at him, pouted, put away the pennies on the table, and quickly made a cup of "half and half", which was not enough.

"Tell me, what do you want to ask?"

Klein pouted backwards, and pointed at Mike next to him, wanting the bartender to signal it.

Mike, who has experienced a lot, reacted almost immediately. He smiled politely, and also handed over a "half and half" price, and said in a low voice:

"I want to know who is most familiar with street girls in the neighborhood?"

The bartender who lacked interest suddenly cheered up~www.wuxiamtl.com~, but his eyes were rather strange.

After all, judging from the dress and the expression on Mike's face at this time, he doesn't look like a novice who doesn't have his own channels.

"Of course it's old Verdu. He knows these things best. What are you asking about these?"

The bartender glanced at Klein, who had retreated behind Mike, with some vigilance, and subconsciously stretched his hand under the table.

Recently because of the **** mad ripper, not just one reporter discovered the connection behind the victim, there are already some annoying flies that started getting in the way of the gangster behind him doing business!

Finding that the other party was more sensitive to this topic, the very sophisticated Mike continued to smile, the expression on his face was even more indescribable, and he spoke with a Dixi Bay accent without any trace.

"Hey, man, I just came to Backlund recently, and I'm not very familiar with it."

As he spoke, he glanced at Klein helplessly behind him, gritted his teeth, and said with an exaggerated hatred:

"This is the guide I hired. I've been busy with business for the past few days, and I finally wanted to relax. As a result, this guy couldn't say a few good places, so I didn't come here to ask."

The bartender sitting behind the bar glanced at Klein, who had been exercised and had a sturdy figure, and nodded suddenly. There was an indescribable smile on the corner of his mouth, and the smile was a bit wretched.

"I understand."

Behind Mike, the expressionless Klein was consuming his spirituality at this time. The clown's ability was running fast. His five fingers on the cane were slightly clenched, and he squinted at the employer in front of him. The emoji I saw.

A certain aspect of the group friend's knowledge, a certain aspect of the group friend's experience.

It's unfortunate that Klein is not tall in this era.

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