Mystery: The Ancient God is Actually Me

As dusk is approaching, only the yellowish mist that enveloped the eastern district is once again thick, the thin sun shines more and more turbid, and the unique fiery red of the evening is obstructed by industrial progress, and only a dim blood red is smeared on the canvas of the dome paved with mist. , making the already dirty sky even more cluttered.

When Klein and Mike got the news, they did not choose to go directly to the dock union. Instead, they returned to the house they had temporarily rented on the border of the Eastern District at noon, and changed to a more formal dress instead of disguising.

For today's trade unions, there is no essential difference between big and small reporters.

On the way here, Mike, who had experienced a lot, specifically explained to Klein the scandals that have occurred frequently in the labor union in recent years.

"Whether it's a purposeful strike, or the trade union leaders accepting sales and bribes from factory owners and chambers of commerce, these are nothing new in the civilian class." Mike lowered his voice, his lips barely moving.

Klein, who was next to him, nodded perfunctorily, but his attention had already shifted to the surroundings.

Under the reminder of spiritual intuition, he vaguely felt a few beams of eyes wandering around himself and Mike reporter, even from the moment he walked to the side of the road occupied by the trade union.

There really is a problem here... Klein pretended that he hadn't noticed any clues, and while still coping with Mike's enthusiastic introduction, he spread his spirituality.

Suddenly, another gloomy gaze came, and Klein, whose spiritual intuition suddenly alerted the police, raised his head, almost unable to control the expression on his face.

At the gate of the second-story building with the union logo on the front door, there is a tall man wearing linen clothes, with soft curly yellow hair, dark brown eyes like beasts, and a drooping mouth. As he opened the wooden door, he cast his gaze sharply towards where Mike and Klein were standing.

He was tall and tall, and there was a malicious light in his eyes.

"Hello, I'm a reporter from the Backlund Daily..." Seeing that the suspected trade union member had opened the door, Mike seized the opportunity to walk up and took the initiative to chat.

Klein, who was standing behind him, was a little sluggish, still motionless, his gloved hands soaked in cold sweat.

Intuition tells him that this man with the impression of a beast is definitely a powerful Beyonder, and the other party didn't even want to hide it!

If Klein directly activated the "substitute" just now to observe the other party's spiritual body line, although it might not be exposed on the spot, it might also trigger the other party's vigilance!

After all, "substitute" is not a real "puppet master". When some extraordinary items are used, if the user's own strength is not enough, it is very likely that their own existence will be exposed due to the surging of their own spirituality when using the ability.

At the beginning, Miss Bodyguard and I would have been directly controlled by Rosago, and there was also a reason why the other party made a neat move, and we relaxed our vigilance.

I can't rely on any item, after all, it's not my own power... Klein nodded secretly. With the help of the "Clown" ability, he returned to normal almost instantly, as if there was nothing just now. As if it happened, a few steps followed Mike who was talking to the man at the door.

Listening to Mike talking with the Beyonder in disguise, Klein found that the Beyonder's attitude was quite bad. Maybe it was just to maintain the most basic disguise and not reveal his identity, so he was patient and reluctantly communicated with Mike. .

But even so, the tall man became manic visibly, and looked out from time to time. Fortunately, another trade union member hurriedly came over, and barely anything happened.

The newly emerged members of the union wore coats with a lot of patches on the outer layer, some of which even showed dirty cotton wool at the corners, and only a linen shirt was worn on the inside.

He seemed to be kind, but he was still wary of Mike's journalistic status.

"Are you sure you're not going to report on some gibberish?"

The man confirmed it again and again, and it was not until Mike even swore to the goddess that he reluctantly believed the other party.

"Phew." After getting the janitor, Mike unabashedly sighed in relief, blinked at Klein behind him, and motioned to go in together.

Klein, who was holding the chain-blade cane tightly in his left hand, nodded slightly, but his left thumb had already climbed onto the hidden mechanism of the gold-encrusted cane head, and he could draw out the sharp blade at any time.

He followed closely behind Mike, and although he no longer played the role of a guide, he still placed himself in the position of a report.

As he walked away, he seemed to hear a muffled conversation coming from behind him.

"I've said it a few times...it's only been two or three months...you've almost caused unnecessary..."

Klein, who walked silently forward, frowned slightly, instinctively wanting to hear more clearly, but because of the distance, no matter how hard he tried, he could only hear a general humming sound, until there was a muffled sound, and the two seemed to be out of the door , there was no more conversation.

But fortunately, since walking into the house belonging to the union, the gaze that had been on him and Mr. Mike disappeared.

Dangdang.

Mike gently knocked on the closed door, and with a creak, a middle-aged man with sparse hair opened the door suspiciously.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you Mr. Rand? I'm Howell, a reporter from the Backlund newspaper. This is my press card. I want to interview the various activities related to worker protection hosted by the labor union recently." Serious Mike quickly returned to work, observing Mr. Rand's facial expressions and speaking at a faster rate.

The spiritual intuition in his mind has been silent, Klein turned on his spiritual vision again, and scanned around, but did not find any fluctuations in extraordinary power. The spiritual body of Mr. Rand in front of him was also relatively normal, and only seemed to freeze in his stomach. A mass of blood red, almost integrated with the color of the body.

Klein looked at the gentleman's mental state and sighed.

It doesn't seem like what Mike said, this Mr. Rand is similar to a normal worker in terms of mental state, clothing and physical health. Maybe he is really willing to concentrate on running the functions of the union.

"I'm Rand, but I don't believe that you reporters will report the positive news of the union fairly." The middle-aged man with dark circles was obviously not willing to answer the question, and said hesitantly.

He pondered his words, and swept his eyes to several rooms beside him. After stagnant for a second, he was no longer nervous.

Mr. Rand, whose clothes are also quite old, coughed and said without emotion:

"Sorry, I just remembered that today is the day of a routine investigation. Most of the workers in the trade union have already left. You may not be able to find anyone who can do relevant work and interview."

As he said that, he seemed to open the doors of other rooms in order to get rid of the unpopular reporters early. Only one room was left with a gentleman who was transcribing documents, and the other rooms were empty.

A bit surprised, Mike swept the interior of several rooms. After only two seconds of silence, he quickly adjusted his state and asked without giving up:

"Oh, it doesn't affect a lot. I have another content I want to interview here."

"Mr. Rand, does the union have any fresh blood to join recently?"

Mike immediately took out the notebook he carried with him, grasped the angle tightly, and carefully scanned the contents above.

"I recently looked into something similar at the docks union in Port Enmat, but it seems that the union there hasn't been in for a long time, um, I mean full member who can get involved in the work of the union."

Listening to his nonsense, Klein, who was standing behind, spent a lot of effort not to frown.

Not to mention the nonsense that the trade union does not absorb new blood, but he looked at it clearly. The page of notes that Mike was reading was clearly recording the program schedule of the recent theater play!

"How is this possible, what nonsense are you talking about." Mr. Rand, who has been working in the union for ten years, refuted subconsciously, with a rare seriousness on his face, "You must know that I recently heard about Enmat Harbor. The union mediates a conflict."

"Of course we have been developing new blood. Only by constantly reaching out to workers and making workers aware of their due rights can the union truly fulfill its mission. Patrick, who has recently joined, is a good example. He is understanding After the meaning of this job is reached, it will help our union to better make up for the shortage of clerical unions."

Hearing Mr. Rand's excited words, the corners of Mike's mouth twitched little by little, and he winked at Klein with a playful side glance.

This gentleman actually mentioned the newly added member of the union by himself~www.wuxiamtl.com~ and it may also happen to be the clerk!

"Oh, this is really a young man worthy of an interview. I don't know when I can interview him?" Mike asked in a timely manner, observing Mr. Rand's expression.

Unfortunately, it seems that the reporters who are usually interviewing have brought too many bad impressions to this gentleman. He obviously does not want to reveal the whereabouts of this Patrick, but only perfunctoryly said:

"He just went out. He often works outside from time to time, and he stays behind for a long time. We can't grasp his living habits."

However, because of a kind of enthusiasm in his bones, Mr. Rand symbolically took a roster. On the album, which was distributed like a table, the black and white photos that were not very clear were neatly arranged. He pointed to a roster. Brand new photos, perfunctory:

"This, this is Patrick. He usually goes out to investigate and is usually near the sewers on the west side of the dock. The living conditions of the workers there are even worse. If you want, maybe you can run into him there."

Mike, who has no talent for sketching, stared at the photo, as if trying to remember all of Patrick's general features.

After looking at it for about half a minute, it seemed that it was really difficult to remember the characteristics. He turned his head and looked at Klein hopelessly.

"Can you sketch what this gentleman looks like..."

Suddenly, he stopped asking, his eyes became a little surprised.

"Sherlock?"

Behind him, Sherlock Moriarty, who was standing quietly, was staring at the small photo on the roster, as if his eyes could pierce everything.

A voice full of anger echoed in Klein's mind, repeating a name in a deep voice.

"Lanlvus!"

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