I will be crowned king

In the outer city of Clovis, the Golden Cup Tavern.

Looking out the window at the bright sky, the yawning bartender slumped lazily on the bar waiting for his shift to change, no longer paying attention to the guy in the corner of the hall who was sipping rum from night to day.

It's not that he doesn't want to. Although the other person is wearing ordinary clothes, he looks like a young man who has just been kicked out of the factory and has a lot of money. There is a vicious resentment from head to toe, and he is completely "No strangers allowed" posture.

Throughout the night, this guy drank nearly two dozen rums. The bartender deliberately doubled the price and drank the same amount. He also gave you the price of a bottle for every drink and never owed any credit... Such a good customer can It can be called very rare.

After more than half an hour, the young man who quietly drank the last bottle of rum stood up tremblingly, walked unsteadily, and left the tavern without saying a word.

The bartender, who was so sleepy that he could hardly open his eyes, did not stop him, nor did he have any intention of greeting her warmly, because he felt that he had guessed the other person's experience and identity - a young man who was kicked out of the factory, was shocked and had nowhere to go. People who spend all their money to get drunk will have no second outcome other than freezing to death on the streets and having their bodies picked up by the police in Whitehall Street.

It was just a corpse that you would encounter accidentally on the roadside a day or a few days later... The bartender didn't even bother to remember his appearance.

Staggeringly walking on the streets of the outer city, Anson, who smelled of alcohol, deliberately pressed against the wall on one side and moved slowly along the edge of the street. He looked around with blurred vision, ready to attack at any time if he was stared at. He immediately threw himself forward and pretended to be dead.

As for how to contact and investigate "Whisper" and his gang, his original plan was to conduct a high-profile investigation first, and then wait until the other party became unbearable due to the inquisitor's relentless pursuit and began to lose control or take some "violent actions" to demonstrate. Then grab the opponent's tail and find a way to sneak in, and then explode inside, just like the last time when the "old pocket watch" was taken away and the "rifling" people and their gangsters were killed.

But this very good idea has been completely turned into a waste case due to the negligence of a certain chief inquisitor, which led to the informant being silenced and the subject of the investigation to be alert in advance - compared with the old God gangsters of Clovis, " "Whisper" may not be stronger, but it is obviously better in terms of caution; it must be the first time in Anson's memory that he can successfully catch the ambush tongue of the Truth Society and avoid the pursuit of the inquisitor.

He also made careful preparations for this—asking a seamstress to do a complete set of makeup for him, putting on the uniform he just borrowed from the factory, tearing off his name tag, erasing all logos and traces, and went to a tavern in the outer city to get drunk... Strive to create an image of workers who have just been kicked out and have given up on themselves.

It must be admitted that the seamstress' skills are indeed excellent: messy reddish-brown hair, unruly beard, deep-set eye sockets with a bluish-black tint, cracked marks on the corners of the mouth, thin cheeks, and a mixture of greasy and oily skin visible to the naked eye. dust.

The image of a worker who was sleep-deprived, malnourished, and didn't pay much attention to personal hygiene was born.

Even so, the seamstress was still dissatisfied. She was still covered by the hat and drew several vivid scars on her scalp that could not be seen at all. The most common factory in Clovis City was the textile factory, and workers worked in front of steam spinning machines. It is easy to accidentally raise your head subconsciously, or be injured by a machine when you are trying to stretch. The scalp may be torn off and blood will flow all over your face. In the worst case, you may be directly strangled by the machine and die immediately before being rescued by the people around you. No whole body.

In addition, although he wears the "anonymous glasses", Anson has no intention of using them unless the worst happens - although this magic prop allows people around him to ignore himself, it does not make the prop itself invisible. ; An ordinary worker was wearing a gold-rimmed monocle. Even if he didn't react at the time, it was only a matter of time before he was exposed.

After such a long period of time, with Thalia's knowledge, the evolution of the Blasphemous Mage, and the memory of "City of Boridim", Anson finally had some understanding of the existence of "magic items" .

Simply put, just like creatures will be affected by magic and mutate, the same thing will also happen to "items"; each "magic prop" will mutate and have what effect, and the idea of ​​the owner who "made" it Even the will itself has little to do with it, but it often has a lot to do with the evolution path of the caster.

For example, Anson is a conjurer, and his domain and laws are "plans", so he can easily create magic props related to time and rules. As for the ability of the prop itself, how long it will take, and which thing on him will be the most powerful? Being affected first, this is beyond his control.

Even using the word "manufactured" to describe it is not appropriate, because essentially it is not something he created, but something he influenced; just like all mutant organisms, the changes in them are neither themselves nor the things that caused this. The result is the subjective will of the person - or some kind of being - but it just happens.

Of course, there is an absolute exception to this, and that is Boridim: the City of Hope that the spellcasters spent countless efforts to build, but finally disappeared. It or the apostles who control the city and the Original Tower, obviously He has the ability to create magic items out of thin air, an ability that not even the three old gods have.

So as long as you don't use it, or don't take it out easily, it will just look like an ordinary monocle, and it won't arouse much suspicion; even if you are really blocked for questioning or investigation, you can still use the "family heirloom" "Treasure", "I'm going to pawn it for rum", "Well, actually I stole it from the foreman's room before he was kicked out of the factory" to prevaricate with syllogisms.

After walking along the street for a long time, Anson pretended to be walking aimlessly, always approaching the "slums" mentioned by Cole Dorian, but always circling around the outside; he was not aware of the current "whispers" "What is the size and strength of his gang, but the other party already knows everything about the trial of Clovis, his biggest "backer", so everything should be done with caution to avoid any possibility of discovery.

Looking at the lively but shabby streets in the distance, Anson, who continued to pretend to be drunk, leaned against the wall and glanced around with the corner of his eyes. After confirming again and again that no eyes were observing him, he staggered toward the area. We walked to what Dorian called the "Public Market."

This so-called market almost occupies the entire street - the facades on both sides, the open space on both sides of the street and even the middle area are all crowded with stalls of various sizes, leaving a little space for people to eat. The walking aisle has already been completely blocked by the tide of people. If you want to cross the street, the only way is to join the crowd and move with it.

Glancing at the gangsters on both sides who didn't take a second look at him, Anson stumbled and pretended to be carried by the crowd and squeezed into the market, pretending to casually look at the stalls and facades of the vendors on both sides.

There are roughly two types of large markets. Among them, the majority are those who set up stalls casually on the street, or even just stand there holding things in their arms; they are the same as the guests who come to "go to the market" and are cleaner. Some of them are wearing "suits" that look like factory uniforms, and most of the clothes are in tatters; the rest, to put it more euphemistically, you can't tell what the material of the clothes they are wearing is and what their original purpose is. What is it.

As for the remaining shops with storefronts, most of them are surrounded by at least two or three gangsters. They wear more complete work clothes than the "customers", and basically have shoes. They are vigilant about the surroundings with homemade metal weapons. A few can have one. Most of the thugs wearing top hats had guns on their waists, holding a pamphlet, and looking seriously at the approaching customers. It was obvious that in addition to security, they also performed accounting work.

But no matter which one they are, the items sold are the same - potatoes as big as the palm of your hand, onions as big as ping pong balls, bread cut into countless pieces, and... scraps with no discernible shape.

"Potatoes, the freshest potatoes, just came in, guaranteed not to sprout!"

"The bread is baked, come on, come on, come on, it'll be late and there will be only crumbs!"

"The good wooden boards can be taken back to repair the eaves. It also comes with a copper pot that can cook rice and soup!"

"There are ten pieces of clean and neat linen cloth with printed purple patterns on it. Each piece only costs half a dozen potatoes. Half a dozen potatoes will be sold!"

...Although it looks poor and the variety of goods can only be described as mediocre, the market still looks very lively. At a glance, including the vendors, there are at least two to three thousand people crowded in the not-so-spacious street.

This is just a market... If there are no deviations in the intelligence provided by Cole Dorian, there are at least six places of similar size in the entire outer city. If some deviations are eliminated, the public benefit from the "Whisper" gang organization The number of people in the market will not be less than one hundred thousand.

Compared with the population of nearly a million in the entire outer city, one tenth does not seem to be an exaggerated number, but these people can all be under the control of an organization; placed in the New World or any other remote place , this scale is more than enough even for the founding of the People's Republic of China.

But now this population seems to have been completely controlled by a gang, but the real ruler of Clovis City is still unaware of this "state within a state"... He complained inwardly, pretending to be drunk Anson was deliberately coerced by the crowd keep going.

Just when he was considering whether to just follow and sneak into the gang's territory, the crowd around him suddenly burst into fierce cheers.

Anson, who didn't care about disguise, could only pretend to be frightened, and subconsciously looked in the direction that made the crowd suddenly excited. He saw a dozen gangsters driving several four-wheeled carriages slowly towards the market.

The carriage slowly stopped outside the crowd. A few thugs skillfully climbed onto the carriage and pulled off the canvas covering it, revealing a mountain of crates.

"Praise the Three Old Gods——!!!!"

Following this action, the crowd instantly burst into cheers that were ten times louder than before. Everyone's face was filled with smiles of joy and excitement, as if they had witnessed a miracle: "May the true God live forever and bless all living beings -!" !!!"

In the center of the fanatical crowd, Anson's pupils shrank slightly.

Although the traces on it have been wiped away, both the shape and size of the box are exactly the same as the Clovis Army's supply box!

Refer to the "Whispers" gangsters who were able to obtain a large amount of supplies quietly without being noticed by anyone, and a few clerks from the Army Department were able to quietly place former gangsters in Beigang to lurk...Answer In fact, it is already obvious.

Reselling military supplies, colluding with the old god gangs... If this kind of thing comes out, it may not be as simple as the dismissal of several senior officials of the Army Ministry. Some wealthy Clovis families who have close ties with the Army may also be affected by this.

And just when he was still evaluating the value and consequences of the exposure of this matter, a hand suddenly pressed on Anson's shoulder.

……………………

"boom--"

He slammed his right hand against the door panel with great force. Yu Lian, commander of the 5th Infantry Regiment, who was extremely complicated in his heart, pursed his lips tightly and closed his eyes as if waiting for something.

Not long after, an extremely hoarse voice sounded from behind the door:

"You're already here, why are you standing outside the door?"

Hearing that familiar voice, Lieutenant Colonel Julien's body suddenly trembled slightly.

He hesitated for a moment, straightened his waist, gently opened the door and stepped in, and closed the door again as quickly as possible. He stared at the figure paralyzed on the bed without looking back, and shouted softly in a slightly frightened voice. cried out:

"……Father."

"it's me."

The figure lying on his back nodded slightly and stared at Julien with an indifferent expression: "Yes, he is still alive; I disappoint you, my good son."

Swallowing hard, the young commander of the 5th Infantry Regiment used all his courage not to take a step back.

"You abandoned your family, abandoned your surname, and used the capital the family gave you to get the opportunity to fly far away. I always felt that with your courage, you should never come back." The man glanced slightly sideways:

"Tell me about the purpose of your trip. It won't be to visit your father or your dead mother."

Julien's tense cheeks trembled again.

"I...I need your help." The young infantry commander's voice was low and hoarse, trying his best to suppress the anger bubbling in his heart: "It's about the Army Department. I know you have a lot of information about them..."

"etc."

The "father" on the bed suddenly changed his expression: "Before you speak, I hope you are aware of the stupidity of what you are doing."

"I know."

Julien nodded slightly, and his eyes that stared at the other person finally stopped shaking: "So I am not asking, but...ordering."

After he finished speaking, he finally pointed the left hand hidden behind his back...more precisely, the revolver in his hand at his "father" on the bed, and gently pulled the trigger.