Mystery: The Ancient God is Actually Me

In the foggy morning, Klein, who had not yet completely escaped the crisis, still needed to do some disguise, got up from the bed ahead of time. After washing his face, he put a human-skin mask on his face, which was convenient for him.

In the mirror, the bookish young man with delicate skin suddenly turned into a mature man with a receding hairline, deep eyes, and dense wrinkles around the corners of his eyes. a feeling of.

When he's done, he's dressed in the only outfit he's brought out of the apartment, with a double-breasted coat and black formal suit making him more mature.

After coming to Backlund, Klein hadn't had a good meal yet, so he was going to take advantage of the still calm morning to mingle with the crowd and take Ian to find nearby delicacies.

There is definitely no similar restaurant in the East District. If you really want to eat good food, I guess you have to go to the Chorwood District and Hillston District to find it... With this thought in mind, Klein knocked on the floor. Next to the wooden door of Ian's room.

As for why not to consider restaurants with a lot of Intis dishes, because most of those restaurants with share capital are opened in the West Side and Queens, which are not within the scope of Klein's economic strength.

After Klein knocked on the door a few times, Ian, who seemed to be getting dressed, opened the door gently and steadily, looking surprised.

"Mr Moriarty, good morning."

"Good morning, Ian." Klein, wearing black-rimmed glasses, nodded, looked past the big boy in front of him, swept inside the room for a week, and said with a slight smile, "Do you want to have breakfast together?"

It seems that he woke up so early for his new employer, and was different from all the employers he had met before, and invited him to breakfast very abnormally. Ian was not able to react quickly, and after a second or two, he hurriedly said:

"No problem, I originally planned to go downstairs to find something to eat."

Seeing that the big boy was still a little wary and cramped, the smile on the corner of Klein's mouth became brighter and brighter. He blinked affectionately, turned his body sideways, and said in a mellow voice:

"Great, I still don't know much about Backlund. If you are willing to accompany me, I may be able to find food more easily. This is my little hobby."

Klein's half-truths made Ian a little surprised, but he obeyed instinctively, nodded seriously, and after thinking for a while, he said:

"I came to know of a restaurant. That's where Detective Zeriel frequents, and it specializes in Feysac dishes."

Fesac dishes...  

Klein, who was inexplicably obsessed with food, was slightly startled, and immediately recalled what he had read in magazines.

The Feysac Empire is most famous for the caviar and various seafood ingredients in the coastal areas, because most of the areas are located along the coast, and the number of other agricultural animals that can be used is not comparable to the two big countries of Ruen and Intis. , it is difficult to support the huge population demand of the Feysac Empire, so the local residents are more willing to study how to make gourmet food with more accessible seafood, and gradually derive a complete gourmet cuisine.

For example, the caviar of the Feysac Empire, although the price is very expensive because of the small production, but the taste is attractive enough. I only tasted it once at the party of the night watcher team in Tingen... Klein Controlling his desire to lick his lips, he swallowed his saliva indiscernibly, and while leaving, asked Ian beside him:

"Where is that restaurant?"

Ian, who was also recalling the taste of the food, paused for a while, and then quickly said:

"On the other side of the Backlund Bridge, on the edge of the Chorwood District."

"Okay." Knowing the exact location, Klein nodded and walked towards the stairs actively, turning his neck slightly, letting Ian lead the way, already imagining the taste of that restaurant in his mind.

They first walked down from the third floor, passed through the dirty and dark lobby on the first floor, and turned directly into the dilapidated alleys that are common in the East District. , a man with dark skin.

A minute after Klein and the others left, Meursault walked into the brick-red building by himself.

With sharp eyes and sunken eye sockets, Meursault scrutinized the dim and dirty hotel lobby in the small building, swept his eyes, locked on the boss who was lying on the counter, and strode over.

Dangdang!

The knuckles of his thick knuckles tapped the front desk full of wine glasses and magazines, roughly waking the boss.

"Who..." The boss, who had developed the habit of not making a big noise even if he was offended in the East District, raised his head drowsily, staring at the fierce Meursault with confused eyes for a few seconds, Immediately refreshed, he stood up suddenly, trembling when he spoke, "What's the matter with you?"

The "executioner" of the Zigman Party followed his height advantage and looked down at the submissive hotel owner with a low voice.

"Has there been a child with red eyes and a middle-aged man over 1.7 meters tall and wearing glasses who have come here to open a room recently?"

Since he became the "executor", he has tried to learn some people who are more in line with the upper class. Meursault, who is studying elegant rhetoric, tries his best to imitate Mr. Rosago, who is usually responsible for teaching his own extraordinary field knowledge, and try his best to be kind.

"This..." The innkeeper's dark brown eyes rolled dilly dilly, with an expression of difficulty to say on his face, embarrassed in capital letters.

He glanced at Meursault, whose anger was hidden in his eyes, swallowed, and immediately gave up his thoughts, and said with consideration:

"There are indeed two similar guests recently, but they have just left."

"You know, there are often people like this in the Eastern District. They may only rent for five days, but they will only stay there for three days, and they won't even bring their luggage."

"Already gone?" Meursault didn't listen to the chatter behind the innkeeper, his rough brows were wrinkled, his voice raised involuntarily, and he showed the momentum he usually used to deal with the **** in the gang.

"No, this, they just left. I remember they came downstairs just now, and then went out. You came in less than two minutes, and I didn't know you wanted to ask them?" The hotel owner was a little flustered, stubby His fingers were constantly churning, and his oil-stained lips were constantly tugging, his expression hurried.

Oh, sure enough, this guy just didn't fall asleep at all... Meursault looked at this ugly middle-aged man with the unique cleverness of Eastern District people, snorted, and immediately thought about it, took it out of his pocket Some gold coins were thrown out on the front desk, some were blocked by the gap between magazines and newspapers, and some were thrown directly into the cup still holding the black tea.

He looked at the innkeeper who was surprised, but didn't seem to have reacted. He sneered disdainfully, and said in a sullen voice:

"If those two people come back here again, you will send someone or come to me yourself, does the Zigman Party know?"

"Find a member of the Zigman party and say there is something important to tell the 'executor', and the money will be more."

The Zigman Party... The boss who was reaching out to pick up the gold coins in the teacup trembled, and the delicately crafted gold pounds swayed and slipped from his stubby fingertips, splashing a pool of reddish-brown water.

"Yes, yes, I understand!"

The sloppy middle-aged man couldn't help nodding his head, and fine cold sweat broke out on his fat cheeks, and the sweat beads kept falling down.

Meursault finally glanced at this spineless, but very smart ordinary person, and his pride in belonging to an "extraordinary" grew even higher.

This is the status that extraordinary power brings!

He knew very well that he was not selected as the "executor" because he was very good at fighting, but only because of his "hunter" status that he could get his current status. It was Mr. Ambassador who gave him the opportunity.

That's why I'm different from them... Meursault took one last glance and left the unremarkable dilapidated hotel in silence.

As for the later work, that's not something you should be concerned about.

Just like Mr. Rosago's teaching, people at different levels do different things, and the fight should be handed over to those who grow up underneath.

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

In the depths of the misty sea, layers of mountains-like dark blue waves are undulating, and the dense mist is only adsorbed on the strangely rising fluid peaks, hiding the blue Avengers who are struggling in the huge waves in the deep gray and white.

"Captain, where are we turning now, isn't it that the island is nearby?" The sailor in the cloth with waves and lightning patterns struggled and tugged on the thick hemp rope~www.wuxiamtl.com~ The tight muscles on his arms quickly burst, and the ability of the "Rage People" squeezed his sanity. Under the blessing of anger, one force after another poured into his body, helping him not to be swept into the water by the waves. .

With only his feet on the deck, his arms folded, and surrounded by invisible wind barriers, Alger calmly felt the direction of the wind and ocean currents, and used the ability of "Wind Blessed" to help himself stay steady. Keep your balance so you don't get wobbly like the rest of the crew.

"Soon, according to the clues I found when I investigated Qilingus in Backlund, the island should be nearby."

"You should still remember the out-of-control pirate. This treasure map is hidden deep, so it shouldn't be fake."

As he said that, Alger also glanced at the first mate who represented the crew's questioning about him. The dark blue eyes contained incomprehensible meanings.

Because he is not the same as an ordinary pirate captain, although he has extraordinary ability to suppress the riots of sailors, but because most of his crew members are members of the Church of the Storms like himself, he cannot use ordinary means to deal with it.

Therefore, before leaving Backlund, Alger deliberately used his achievements to exchange the characteristics of the out-of-control Beyonder who had been killed by them, and helped his first mate be promoted to Sequence Eight "Rage People".

Sometimes, blocking their mouths with visible benefits is far more important than illusory beliefs... Through the vision blessed by the "Wind Blessed" ability, Alger vaguely saw the hazy island on the edge in the distance, The corners of the stiff mouth finally showed a slight arc.

We are all fringe members exiled to the sea, and of course only in this way, we have the opportunity to obtain such an opportunity to be more free...

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