Mystery: The Ancient God is Actually Me

"Sherlock Moriarty?" Chewing on the unfamiliar name, Caspars glanced at Ian beside him in surprise, a little playful, "When did you change your boss?"

Although he drank a lot today, Caspers still clearly remembered that the big boy who called himself "Old Man" had been serving a tall private investigator, at least the last time he came to the party.

The ridiculed Ian first glanced at Klein, then adjusted his expression, and took out a few coins from his pocket and placed them on the bar.

"One more beer, isn't it normal for someone like me to change bosses?"

Hearing the explanation from the big boy on the opposite side, Caspars, who always believed in the identities of customers who were not necessary or not, groaned, poured another beer, and pushed along the not-so-smooth bar. Ian.

Seeing that he was speechless for a while, Klein, who was on the side, observed the expressions of the two, and took over the words in a timely manner, with a mellow voice:

"Heh, something happened to Detective Zeriel. I just came to Backlund, and I don't know much about the local situation. I just need Ian who is more familiar with this aspect."

"I heard that you can buy firearms that will not be officially registered here?"

Hearing this, Caspars, who was originally lacking in interest, suddenly became sober. He stood up and looked around for a week. After realizing that no one was paying attention, he frowned slightly and said to Klein and Klein in a low voice:

"follow me."

After all, this old man in a linen shirt and his legs and feet didn't seem to be very neat, supported his body with his hands, limped away from the bar, and walked slowly to the side of the bar.

Klein and Ian looked at each other and saw his assistant nodded before he followed slowly and followed to a wooden door with oil stained bottom.

Caspars, dressed in scruffy clothes and with the sound of metal bumping all the time when he walked up, reached into his trousers pocket with his sharply articulated right hand. The wooden door opened with a bang.

creak creak.

The thin, low-quality wooden door was opened, and a billiard room with a dark yellow tone gradually appeared in everyone's field of vision. The faded wooden cues at the top were randomly placed, and the choking smell of smoke could not surround the small room. .

"Close the door when you come in." The hideous scars on his face overlapped with the mouth movement when he spoke. Kaspert turned his head and warned, his cloudy eyes swept Klein up and down, and then slowly moved towards the billiards. Walk to the side of the room.

Klein, who was swept by the other party, didn't care, smiled gently, nodded, and closed the wooden door behind him, which always felt sturdy, and took it hard.

"I thought it was possible to talk about this kind of business outside?"

He looked at the environment inside the billiard room, and his eyes kept passing over the objects in it, the chairs neatly arranged at the base of the wall, the specially placed wine racks, the glass wine glasses that had been washed but were still somewhat yellow... Everything indicated that this not-so-small room was supposed to be dedicated to similar business.

Caspars, who was wiping the wine bottle on the wine rack and preparing to pour himself a glass of Relangzi, snorted disdainfully, his big red nose trembled.

"How do I know if there will be some little **** outside? If they tip off to the police station, I think I can just prepare to sell the bar and run away."

"But it's your lack of strength in essence." Klein, who played Sherlock Moriarty, pushed the black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose at will, and his icy blue plain eyes reflected the figure of the half-hundred-year-old man in front of him. Ignoring Ian's surprised eyes, he said with a smile: "As the person in charge of an underground channel, you don't have your own backing. This is a big joke."

Slowly, Caspars turned his body, half-squinted eyes with hidden anger, silently stared at this middle-aged man he had never seen before, stared for a long time before slowly exhaling a turbid breath, speaking slowly. road:

"What exactly are you buying, tell me the model."

It seems that he really has no backer...

As a "clown", Klein not only has the ability to control his own expressions, but to a certain extent, he can also interpret more content through the micro-expressions of others.

"A powerful revolver with 50 rounds of bullets and 20 rounds of normal specifications."

Among them, the powerful revolver was prepared for Klein himself, and the other 20 rounds of normal bullets were because he was going to use the gun he got from Detective Zeriel as a backup to prepare two different types of bullets for himself. bullet marks.

"4 pounds 3 soles." Caspars breathed a sigh of relief, and quickly quoted the price, "This is definitely more expensive than a normal weapons store, you don't want a registered gun, huh, it needs to bear a certain amount risks of."

"Very reasonable." Klein smiled lightly, took out five 1-pound bills he had prepared, counted four and handed them to the other party.

Caspars, who had just been offended and still had some heartache, didn't say anything, just mechanically took the banknotes handed over, checked the authenticity of two of the banknotes, and nodded slightly.

"Wait here, I'll get the goods for you."

While stuffing the banknotes into his pockets, he moved his legs that were not very neat, and limped to open the door.

"Wait." Klein, who had a mature temperament and a prudent appearance, stopped him, his ice blue eyes hidden behind black-rimmed glasses, and he said after consideration, "Do you know Beyonders?"

His right hand was resting on the brass handle of the wooden door. Caspers, who was holding his round head, frowned slightly. The hideous scars and deep wrinkles were intertwined, and he said hoarsely:

"What do you want to do?"

"I advise you not to pay attention to that, not everyone has a good life."

Although his words were full of scolding and warning, Klein read out a kind of advice, a kind of advice similar to elders' advice to addicts who want to try drugs.

"Please don't be nervous, I'm not trying to cause trouble." Klein shook his head slightly, glanced sideways at Ian, who had not said a word since entering the room, and snapped his fingers flexibly with his right hand. The spiritual flame was fleeting, "I just came to Backlund and wanted to find some similar gatherings. Ian said you have channels for this."

Caspars, who was originally full of momentum, was suddenly startled when he saw this, and then his arm quickly retracted, and there was a hint of alertness and fear in his cloudy eyeballs.

"I do know a party of that kind of people, but I'm not the convener there. I can only help introduce it, and I can't guarantee success."

"No problem, I just need someone to introduce me." Klein replied casually, seemingly confident.

This time, the experienced Caspars did not speak, but turned the handle directly, walked out of the door, and returned here with a box after ten minutes.

"Unfortunately, the assistant of the old gentleman who presided over the party is not here today." As soon as he entered the door, Caspers said to Klein, who had finished drinking a glass of Southwell beer, "This is the weapon you want. "

"But I'll take you there at my next meeting. Of course, it doesn't guarantee success." Seeing Klein's questioning look, Caspers immediately added, and then glanced at the man who was drinking beer silently. Ian, went on to say, "'Old Man' should know where that old gentleman's party time will be written."

He had been there for nearly ten minutes just now. Maybe the so-called assistant was nearby, but he might be afraid that I was an official Beyonder, so he did not show up directly, but used this roundabout method?

Klein nodded slightly, took the box in Caspers' hand, lifted the lid, and roughly inspected the quality revolver and a total of 70 bullets in it.

"It's not a problem, I'll be here on time next week."

After he finished speaking, he waved back, and Ian, who was originally holding a wine glass, quickly got up and followed Klein out of the billiards room.

Behind them, Caspars was still standing in the billiards room, leaning against the door frame, until he watched the big and small people push the black wooden door open, he breathed a sigh of relief, turned and walked in.

......

So familiar feeling?

Klein, who had just bought the trait revolver, had already hidden it on his body. Just about to discuss with Ian how to solve dinner at night, Klein was inspired. Following the guidance of his spiritual intuition, he turned his gaze indistinctly to another direction.

Standing under the street sign on Tiemen Street, Klein, whose figure was mostly shrouded in shadows, looked at the door of the Brave Bar, his dull eyes slightly widened.

It's that "Rose Bishop"!

With the night vision ability brought by Spirit Vision, Klein could see clearly the young men and women who were about to open the heavy door.

I saw that the young man in charge of leading the way was full of displeasure, his eyes were drooping absentmindedly, and there was a circle of faint blackness around him. At first glance, he was the type who often stayed up late.

The other person beside him, although pale skinned, had an active expression and looked very curious about everything. It was the "Bishop Rose" who killed Detective Zeriel in front of Klein before!

Are they also regulars at this bar?

Klein quickly glanced at Ian, who was beside him with a bewildered face, and then got rid of the delusion in his mind, grabbed the thin big boy's wrist, and turned into a side alley in a panic without saying the reason. , go straight to the center of the street where there are more people and denser lights.

"Rose Bishop" has a greater advantage in the shadows!

At the door of the bar, Helen, whose blood-red eyes were constantly wandering around the tall and strong man beside the black wooden door, was suddenly startled, her eyes suddenly fixed on the other's chest, and her expression was a little dull.

Snapped!

Evan, who was beside her, patted the top of her head, grabbed her wrist, and dragged her into the bar before his friend scare the strong man at the door into tears.

"What were you doing just now?" Evan frowned, his fingers on Helen's wrist tightened, and he walked quickly to the bar that the bartender had just cleaned up and ordered two servings of beef.

Helen, whose wrist was still being held, raised her wrist slightly, pulled the scattered hair back to the back of her head, and said indistinctly:

"It's nothing, I just seemed to ask about the familiar taste."

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