Chapter 17 - 17

Chapter 161 WarningTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2211 wordsUpdate time: 2024-11-15 17:30:05

The knock on the door interrupted Ryan's thoughts. He shook his head, put aside his thoughts for the time being, stood up and walked to the door. He sensed it with his spiritual sense and confirmed that there was nothing unusual before opening the door.

The cold wind mixed with the voices coming from the distant street corner, and with a hint of mechanical roar, it rushed towards him. The dim light and the diffuse mist outside the door intertwined, outlining the typical dusk scene in Backlund - the gray sky and the weak light of the street lamps intertwined, as if an endless haze swallowed everything.

The man standing at the door was thin and wore a patched black coat. The surface was rough, but it could not hide his unique temperament. His eyes were sharp, like the deep night sky, as if they could penetrate everything in Ryan.

He smiled slightly, and said calmly but with a hint of threat: "I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Ryan, but we have something to talk about."

Ryan frowned slightly, and his eyes quickly swept across the shadow behind him, catching the looming fluctuations. On the surface, he was still calm, but in his heart he was more alert: "What's the matter?"

The man did not answer immediately, but took a step forward, approaching Ryan's sight, as if he was going to start an unspoken conversation in this small space. Ryan's spiritual perception has always been sharp, and he can easily sense the abnormal fluctuations around him, but the person in front of him can block his perception, which undoubtedly makes him feel apprehensive.

He slowly retracted his slightly tense hand, trying to get more information from the other party's words and actions. The other party's deliberately concealed aura revealed an unusual background and purpose.

Ryan spoke calmly, his tone cold but inquiring: "It seems that you don't intend to let me see through it easily. In this case, why not get straight to the point and say it directly. What do you want?"

The other party did not seem surprised, but showed a meaningful smile, with a flash of approval in his eyes. His tone was low and powerful: "You are very smart, Mr. Ryan. We do have something to discuss, which is related to the difficulties you may face in the future."

The man tilted his head slightly, his eyes falling on Ryan's shoulder, as if he could see through his inner doubts: "You may not realize that you have been involved in a more complicated situation than you imagined."

Ryan thought for a moment and realized that the person in front of him was not just an ordinary person with special abilities, but there might be a powerful force hidden behind him. The other party's words were vague, but they seemed to contain profound meanings and involved a more complicated mystery.

He did not rush to respond, but took a step back, opened the door, and motioned for the other party to come in: "In that case, why not come in and talk it out."

The man nodded slightly and stepped into the house with an aura that could not be ignored. Ryan followed closely behind him, full of vigilance and curiosity.

The man walked to the sofa and sat down without restraint, as if he knew the layout of the room by heart. His confident and steady attitude made Ryan feel that he was the one who had intruded into his territory. In order to avoid appearing too passive, Ryan also sat down, kept a proper distance, and remained calm.

"Since you are so confident, just say it." Ryan curled his lips slightly and spoke in a cold tone, but in his heart he was carefully analyzing every move of the other party.

The man smiled slightly, as if he had expected Ryan's reaction. His deep voice was like an undercurrent: "We know that you are involved in a lot of relationships in this city, and these relationships are much more complicated than you think. You may not know it yet, but some people and forces have already put you on their watch list."

Ryan quietly observed his expression and tone, and felt that these words were not bluffing, and there must be a deeper mystery behind them. He realized that the man in front of him was not an ordinary powerful person, but a figure lurking in the shadows.

"You mean," Ryan raised his eyebrows, his eyes sharp, "I have been involved in some kind of plan or game? Which side are you representing to warn me?"

The man chuckled, his eyes revealing something meaningful. "Control? No, I don't like to use this word. You are a smart person. You know that the power in this city is intertwined. There are 'extraordinary' people both in the open and in the dark. You are already deeply involved. The storm is coming. Whether you like it or not, you will be involved in the end. As for the power behind it, I can't reveal it for the time being, but you will know it at the right time."

He stood up, walked to the window, looked out at the mist that was gradually engulfing the sky, and said in a low but firm voice: "Remember, your future is not in your control. It is dominated by forces that you cannot foresee."

The man turned around and walked towards the door, leaving his last words: "Some people are best not to contact."

Before he finished speaking, his figure quickly disappeared in the fog outside, as if blending into the shadow of the city.

Ryan stared at the slowly closing door, and his heart was filled with turmoil. This uninvited guest brought not only a warning, but also a declaration: he had been drawn into an unknown abyss, perhaps an extraordinary world, or a more complicated power struggle.

"Some people are best not to contact..." Ryan repeated in a low voice, a hint of guess gradually emerging in his mind.

Recalling the conversation with Bernadette last night, Ryan suddenly realized that although Ms. Emma thought she was abandoned by the royal family, her every move was still under their control.

He walked back into the house, closed the door, sat back on the sofa, and stared at the light that was still on. Bernadette's words echoed in his mind again and again: "Cultivating extraordinary families is the method used by the church and the royal family. The difference is that one relies on the power of gods, while the other uses human souls."

Ryan couldn't help but laugh at himself. He didn't expect that he would be drawn into the royal family's vision. Although he carefully concealed his whereabouts and tried to avoid the complicated power vortex of this city, fate seemed to have destined him to be unable to stay out of it.

Thinking of Emma, ​​Ryan fell into deep thought. She might think she was abandoned by the royal family, but she was just an important piece on the chessboard, ready to be used at any time.

He shook his head gently, withdrawing his complicated thoughts from the situation. Since now was not the time to make contact, he could only wait and see, patiently waiting for that moment to come, and only when the critical moment came would he take action.

Ryan stared at the thickening fog outside the window, and an unprecedented determination rose in his heart. Since he had been targeted by the royal family, he might as well let go and go with the flow, going further and more crazy. A gleam of light flashed in his eyes, as if he was conceiving a new adventure - since he couldn't escape the competition for power, he might as well take the initiative to join it.

"Now that we are in their sight, let them see that Ryan Ashburn is not a pawn that goes with the flow." He whispered to himself, with a sneer on his face. Perhaps only by giving up caution and welcoming the storm can one truly control the power.

He stood up and walked to the desk, and had already begun to sketch out a series of bold plans in his mind. Whether it was borrowing the power of the royal family or using the secrets behind it, Ryan was no longer satisfied with the status quo. Since there was no turning back, he would place all his bets on this crazy future - no matter what the result was, at least he would not be swallowed up silently.

"If they think I'm under control, let them see how I control the situation." Ryan's eyes were challenging, his fingers tapping lightly on the table, thinking about every next step.Chapter 162 FactoryTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2133 wordsUpdate time: 2024-11-16 17:30:02

Shrouded in thick fog, the East District of Backlund seemed particularly quiet. The sparse street lamps emitted a dim light, and the halo of light was blurred and dark against the fog. The cobblestones on the street looked smooth due to moisture, occasionally reflecting weak lights, but all this could not cover up the hustle and bustle of the industrial area. The roar of machinery came from the factory in the distance, intermittently, but like an industrial elegy that never ended.

The air was filled with the smell of coal smoke and metal, so thick that it was suffocating. Drunken workers stumbled through the alleys, their footsteps and whispered curses blending into the noise of the night. Under the dim street lights, shadows twisted and swayed, as if they would be swallowed up in the darkness at any time. There was no silence in the city late at night, only roars, panting, and peepers lurking in the shadows.

Ryan's footsteps echoed on the cobblestone road, light but clear, as if whispering the secrets of the city. He kept replaying every detail he discussed with Bernadette in his mind, trying to make sure there were no omissions in his plan. In this city full of extraordinary people, any loophole could lead to a catastrophic disaster.

His fingertips lightly touched the Russell Transformation Belt around his waist, feeling the mysterious aura that was faintly revealed. The power of this extraordinary item provided him with a strong cover, but he knew that the real danger was never far away. Thinking of the incident in Ilfracombe, his eyes turned cold, and regret and vigilance surged in his heart. Lady Emma's insight forced him to admit that his actions were not flawless.

Although the flames and smoke covered up most of the clues, they still left enough traces for the keen peepers... In Ilfracombe, he actually changed the captured nobles into his own appearance, trying to deceive his opponent with the transformation belt. Although he successfully deceived the extraordinary person lurking in the dark, he also inadvertently exposed his true appearance.

He looked down at his own shadow, which, under the projection of the light, was sometimes long and sometimes short with his steps, as if it was chasing him in the night, or as if some lurking existence was following him silently. The air was filled with chill and a faint smell of motor oil, which made him speed up his pace involuntarily.

No matter what, the problem already exists, and there is no point in running away. Ryan exhaled slowly, and his eyes withdrew from the memories emerging from the shadows. He clenched his fists, and his eyes gradually became firm - since things can't be reversed, just face it directly.

Rather than passively responding to those peepers hiding in the darkness, it is better to take the initiative and take control of the situation. He has always been like this, never retreating due to fear, no matter what is waiting for him ahead is the abyss or the fog, he will take his own steps.

At this moment, Ryan stopped, took a deep breath, pulled his attention back from his memories, and stared at the slightly shabby factory in front of him.

The rusty iron door was half-closed, occasionally swaying in the wind, making a sharp and piercing metallic sound. The towering chimney pierced the sky, with wisps of dark gray smoke rising from the top, slowly spreading in the haze of the night.

The factory's outer wall was full of traces of time, with mottled mosses crawling around the corners, and the wet water stains seeping out of the cracks vaguely reflecting a faint light under the dim light. The dim light shone through the window onto the open space in front of the door, and the blurred shadows swayed, but could not dispel the chill and burnt oil smell in the air.

Ryan did not stay for too long. He scanned the outline of the factory, identified several possible infiltration routes, and quietly approached the side door. The shadows and thick fog covered his figure tightly, and every step he took was cautious and steady, and the friction between the soles of his shoes and the wet stone slabs made almost no sound.

As he gradually approached the factory, the tingling sensation in his spiritual perception became more and more obvious, like a poisonous snake lurking in the darkness, its cold eyes fixed on his every move. The air seemed to be getting more and more dull, and he held his breath, his eyes quickly searching for any abnormalities in the darkness.

There was no sound or movement, it was too quiet.

Ryan murmured to himself, "What a bad omen."

He stopped and stared at the factory in front of him. The thick fog twisted and rolled under the dim light, like a living barrier, shrouding the entire building in shadow. His eyes swept across the slightly open side door, and his brows furrowed slightly.

"It seems to be the most hidden path, but it may not be the safest choice." Ryan whispered in his heart, his eyes gradually turning to the dilapidated gate of the factory.

As someone who had been dealing with Beyonders for a long time, he knew that any obvious weakness often concealed a deeper trap. If he were the owner of this factory, he would definitely set up a deadly defense line at those infiltration points that were most likely to be chosen subconsciously. Beyonder items, traps, or even some hidden perception mechanism... No matter which possibility it was, the side door seemed too dangerous.

"Perhaps it is precisely because of its conspicuousness that people would be afraid to go through the main door." A calm and sharp light flashed in Ryan's eyes.

He knew that although the main entrance would increase the risk of being discovered, in front of a careless security guard, this risk would seem relatively controllable. Rather than risk stepping into the side door that might hide extraordinary items and traps, he would rather choose a path that seemed straightforward but could control the initiative.

While thinking, Ryan took a deep breath and buried all his uneasiness in his heart. He straightened his collar, and his whole aura changed subtly in an instant - from a lurking shadow to a "master" who walked here as a matter of course.

He walked straight to the gate, the dim light elongated his figure, casting it on the cracked stone floor. Next to the gate, a security guard in an old uniform was leaning on a chair, his head slightly lowered, as if he was dozing off. His posture was slack, and the wooden stick in his hand was hanging down weakly, looking careless.

Ryan did not try to hide, nor did he reveal any flaws. Instead, he walked into the gate naturally like a factory owner who knew the place well.

The moment he passed through the door, he once again scanned the layout of the porch. The ticking of the old mechanical clock formed a strange resonance with the faint roar of the machine in the distance. His eyes paused briefly at the corner of the porch, keenly observing that there were some scattered tools and dusty boxes piled there, but he did not find anything unusual.

The footsteps echoed in the empty factory corridor, as if ringing an inaudible alarm bell in the darkness.

"It seems that this move was the right one." Ryan secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Although the sense of danger was still around him, at least he avoided a trap that might be more deadly.

"I hope they can keep up." Ryan thought silently before stepping into the factory, with an ambiguous smile on his lips.

The thick fog surged quietly, and the vague shadow behind him lengthened slightly in the dim light, like a poisonous snake on the hunt, silently entwining the trajectory of his footsteps, ready to strike at any time.Chapter 163 AltarTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2128 wordsUpdate time: 2024-11-17 17:30:01

Ryan stepped into the depths of the factory, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor, each one as if captured by invisible ears. He looked around and slowed down slightly after confirming that there were no potential threats.

Dim lights lined the ceiling, occasionally flickering and making faint "sizzling" sounds, adding a bit of an eerie atmosphere to the factory. The air was filled with the smell of burnt oil, mixed with a damp and moldy smell, as if every inch of this place had been eroded by time. Deep inside, there was a low mechanical roar, vaguely mixed with some kind of vague whisper, like an absurd prayer.

The rune marks on the wall caught Ryan's attention. The complex patterns were emitting a faint glow, indicating that the extraordinary power was working. He frowned and was secretly alert. This was the place Bernadette told him - one of the important strongholds of the Spiritual Cult. She had clearly warned that only those with sufficient sequence and preparation could enter this place, because the strongest combat power here was a Sequence 5 "Gatekeeper". This level of extraordinary person, even if he stood there motionless, would be suffocating.

For Ryan, who was at Sequence 7, a direct confrontation with such a being was tantamount to suicide. Especially for the gatekeepers of the Spiritual Cult, whose extraordinary abilities were known for being weird, even those with higher sequences had to be extremely cautious.

Bernadette had repeatedly reminded that Extraordinary items were not omnipotent. Although high-sequence Extraordinary items were powerful, their side effects were equally unbearable. Each Extraordinary item was a test of the Extraordinary's will and body, and the lower the sequence, the more severe the side effects. A Sequence 7 Extraordinary using a high-sequence item, even if its side effect was simply "thirst", could drive him crazy and make him drink water non-stop until he died of edema. Ryan had heard and seen too many such examples.

"I hope it doesn't come to that this time." Ryan said to himself, turned his eyes away from the rune and continued forward.

At the end of the corridor was a heavy iron door, rusty and covered with scratches of varying depths. The edge of the iron door was covered with fine rune carvings, which faintly exuded an ominous aura.

Ryan whispered: "It seems that the welcoming ceremony has begun."

As he was carefully observing the runes, he heard a very light breathing sound behind him. The sound was almost imperceptible, but Ryan remained alert at all times, sneering in his heart: "Finally caught up."

On the surface, he showed no reaction, his fingertips slowly slid over the rune marks, testing the structure of the door. He focused on the touch of the rune while waiting for the spy in the dark to be exposed. Sure enough, when he triggered the rune, a faint blue light quickly spread out, covering the entire door.

Ryan quickly stepped back, gripping the weapon at his waist, and said in a cold tone: "Welcome."

His voice echoed in the empty corridor, and the cold oppressive feeling made the existence in the darkness hesitate slightly. However, Ryan did not relax. He looked around sharply, waiting for the enemy's move.

The iron door opened slowly with a heavy "click", and the world behind the door was as dark as the abyss. The air was filled with the smell of blood and some indescribable strange smell, which made people feel nauseous.

What came into view was a huge underground space, like a strange temple that combined machinery and ritual. Steel beams and giant gears intertwined, the mechanical devices kept running, and the gushing steam and the sound of gears biting intertwined, creating a suffocating sense of oppression. There was a faint smell of blood in the air, as well as a strange smell mixed with engine oil and corruption.

In the center of the space stood a mechanical altar, which looked like a fusion of steampunk and ancient rituals: metal gears kept turning, steam pipes spewed out intermittent air, and in one place, scarlet liquid was faintly flowing.

Ryan suppressed a dizzy feeling and looked at the altar. Five members of the Spiritual Cult were wearing black robes, holding lit candles, and chanting obscure prayers around the altar. Their voices seemed to be out of this world, and seemed to directly affect people's spirits, making people dizzy. At the top of the altar, a slender figure with a face hidden in a black hood stood. He held a long black staff in both hands, and the staff was wrapped with fine runes, wriggling like a living thing.

Above the tip of the staff, an illusory shadow of a door loomed. Ryan couldn't help but look away in disgust. The threat brought by this extraordinary power made him alert.

"It seems that their goal is to wake up something." He thought to himself and slowly approached the bunker.

At this moment, the hooded man slowly raised his head, revealing a pale face. He said in a low and cold voice: "A low-sequence Beyonder dared to step into this place... Is it stupid, or is it seeking death?"

Ryan sneered: "Maybe it's both."

The gatekeeper snorted coldly, raised his staff, and slashed at Ryan with dark red energy like a sickle. The sound of air being torn apart was horrifying. Ryan rolled and dodged, narrowly avoiding the attack. A deep crack was cut into the ground, and gravel flew everywhere.

After he hid in the bunker, he quickly scanned the entire room. He could not see the core of the altar at a glance, but in the chaotic mechanical structure, the place where the scarlet liquid flowed exuded an abnormal "vitality" that made him instinctively feel disgusted.

"Maybe it's not the core, but it's definitely related to the energy supply of the ritual." Ryan made a quick judgment and reached for the extraordinary object in his arms.

It was a slightly warm metal plate that Bernadette had given him before she left. Although her purpose was not clearly stated, her solemn expression showed its extraordinary nature.

"It's time to end it." Ryan sneered, and the metal plate in his hand drew an arc of light and went straight to the mechanical altar. The moment the metal plate touched the altar, a strong light burst out, accompanied by a deafening roar, and the scarlet liquid in the core of the altar shattered, like blood gushing out, the entire mechanical structure shook violently, and the gears collapsed one after another.

However, the expected chaos did not completely occur. The five black-robed extraordinary people around the altar not only did not show any panic, but appeared extremely calm. The black-robed man in the lead slowly raised his long staff and thrust it hard into the center of the damaged altar. With this action, the bloody smell in the air instantly became stronger, and at the same time, a sickening feeling of disgust enveloped the entire space.

After Ryan hid in the bunker, he clearly felt the unnatural sense of oppression. He looked through the gap in the bunker and watched the scene on the altar. The illusory shadow of the door should have disappeared due to the destruction of the altar, but it became clearer at this moment, as if it had received some extra push.

"It seems that this thing is more complicated than I expected." Ryan gritted his teeth secretly and quickly assessed the situation in his mind.

"However, the one who will have a headache next may not be me." Ryan hid behind the bunker with a sneer on his face.Chapter 164 ConfrontationTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2172 wordsUpdate time: 2024-11-18 17:30:08

Ryan felt the disgust gradually spreading in the air, and gradually realized that his plan was working.

The extraordinary people of the Spiritual Cult had obviously realized that the problem was not simple. The black-robed man in the lead looked around with a cold gaze. The runes wrapped around his staff became more active, and the illusory shadow of the door behind him became clearer and clearer, as if some terrifying existence would descend at any time.

At the same time, the black-robed people near the altar exchanged glances with each other, then raised their rune staffs together and began to chant again. The obscure prayer echoed in the space, with an irresistible sense of erosion, as if every syllable was tearing apart the cover of the hidden person and exposing all the secrets before their eyes.

Ryan held his breath and quietly felt the changes around him. He knew that all this was beyond his ability to directly fight. Even the attack of the Spiritual Cult was beyond his ability to bear head-on. However, he did not need to do more, just wait - wait for the Spiritual Cult's attention to be completely diverted to the stalker.

The black fog in the air became thicker and thicker, gradually spreading deeper into the factory, as if countless invisible hands were searching for prey in the darkness. Suddenly, the chanting of the man in black robes was interrupted for a moment, and the leading member of the Spiritual Cult sneered, with a mocking tone:

"Found it."

Ryan's eyes shone. He didn't look up, but from the reaction of the Spirit Cult, he knew that the stalker who had been lurking in the dark had finally been exposed.

"Interesting." He chuckled in his heart, slowly adjusting his position and hiding his body deeper behind the cover.

At this time, the black-robed man raised his staff and swung it in a certain direction. A dark red energy cut through the air, making a sharp whistle, as if the entire space was shaking. At the same time, the thick black fog instantly gathered in the same direction, like countless poisonous snakes coiling around and rushing towards the target.

"Next... it's your turn." Ryan thought silently in his heart. He knew very well that no matter what the stalker's origin was, it would be impossible for him to escape easily in front of the power of the Spiritual Cult. And he could take this opportunity to wait and see and find a better opportunity to break the deadlock.

The air became more agitated, and the disgusting feeling of oppression became stronger, almost making it hard to breathe. But Ryan remained calm, his eyes fixed on the direction of the battlefield, waiting for what was to come.

"But the next home court is not mine." Ryan leaned behind the bunker, muttered in a low voice as if mocking himself, with a playful smile on his lips. He had completed his task - all the roles of an opening actor, and the next performance should naturally be handed over to a more suitable protagonist.

The extraordinary people of the Spiritual Cult around the altar were concentrating at this moment, the corners of their black robes fluttering gently in the diffuse black mist. The black-robed man in the lead suddenly inserted his long staff into the damaged altar, and scarlet liquid flowed out of the broken mechanical device, interweaving with the runes on the long staff, forming a strange resonance. The feeling of disgust instantly became several times stronger, as if the entire space was shrinking under a huge pressure.

"Enough - stop hiding." The leading black-robed man spoke in a cold tone, his eyes sweeping into the depths of space. His voice was deep and had an irresistible force, like a nail piercing directly into one's mind. The chanting of the Spirit Cult's Extraordinary gradually increased, and the tone became sharp and piercing, as if to completely tear apart everything hidden in the darkness.

Ryan held his breath and watched the situation change quietly. He knew that although the identity or purpose of the stalker was unknown, he was obviously not a simple person since he had been lurking until now. However, facing the full force of the Spiritual Cult, whether he could escape smoothly was another matter.

"Next, it depends on your performance." Ryan added silently in his heart, adjusted a more secretive posture, and hid himself under the cover of black fog.

Suddenly, there was a strange wave in the air, as if something was resisting the power of the Spiritual Cult. The wave was not strong, but it had an indescribable special rhythm that instantly attracted everyone's attention.

The black-robed leader's pupils shrank slightly, and he sneered, "It seems that today's guests are more interesting than expected."

He waved his staff lightly, and the scarlet rune light burst out instantly, like an invisible giant net, covering the source of the fluctuation. The black-robed man's movements were clean and neat, not giving his opponent any chance to breathe.

Ryan, hiding in the dark, felt a strange excitement. Although he couldn't see clearly what was happening, the full efforts of the Spiritual Cult showed that the protagonist of this scene had finally appeared.

"Very good, this is the climax of the drama." Ryan chuckled in his heart, tapping his fingers lightly on his waist, as if beating the rhythm for the next changes.

The main venue of this battle no longer belonged to him. His mission was to disrupt the situation, and now, he had completed all the roles as the opening actor - the rest would be left to these unexpected participants and the Spiritual Cult to solve.

"But I have to thank Russell." Ryan hid behind the shelter and looked down at the bracelet on his wrist. It was a chain made up of tiny metal pieces, and it looked inconspicuous, but at this moment, the pieces of metal on the chain were faintly emitting a faint blue light, as if responding to some unknown power.

Ryan pursed his lips, feeling complicated: "Seriously, why would the emperor make something like this?"

He didn't delve into it, but just complained subconsciously. This bracelet was an "extraordinary item" given to him by Bernadette. Its function was to shield induction, and even in extreme cases, it could make people "turn a blind eye" to it. In short, it could hide Ryan's existence and make the enemy inadvertently ignore him in battle.

After all, the emperor was famous for his "eccentricities" during his lifetime. Which of his anecdotes is not hilarious? It is said that while promoting the Industrial Revolution, he promoted a certain inexplicable festival all over the world; and he also filled his diary with strange words and phrases, such as "I am so smart" and "I will definitely be famous in the future".

"Who knows how his brain works." Ryan shook his head, and a slight smile appeared on the corner of his mouth. In this smile, there was a bit of helplessness towards Russell, but also a bit of relief.

He looked up at the increasingly tense situation in the distance, and his fingers unconsciously rubbed the metal plate on the bracelet. Although he sneered at the emperor's hobby, he had to admit that this thing did help him a lot - from protecting his mental defenses to interfering with the enemy's perception, the function of this bracelet far exceeded Ryan's original expectations.

At this moment, the home field no longer belonged to him, and he did not need to put on too much of a show. Right now, the most important thing was to wait - to wait for the Spiritual Cult and the stalker to have a thorough confrontation, and he only needed to be an observer hidden in the darkness, waiting for the opportunity to act.

"The best is yet to come." Ryan patted the bracelet gently, as if thanking the emperor for the gift, and then looked calmly towards the center of the battlefield.Chapter 165 DoorTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2280 wordsUpdate time: 2024-11-19 17:30:05

The battle finally began under Ryan's expectant gaze.

The black-robed members of the Spiritual Cult were the first to move. They pulled out pieces of parchment covered with runes from their sleeves, held them high in the air, and began to chant those twisted spells loudly. The harsh sound waves echoed in the underground space, as if they had penetrated the eardrums directly, bringing a numbing sense of oppression.

At the same time, the gatekeeper on the altar gently raised his staff, and the illusory door shadow trembled slightly. An indescribable pressure instantly filled the entire space, and even the air seemed to become sticky. The disgust and madness behind the door swept in like a tide, as if some existence was being summoned.

"It's finally started." Ryan's mouth curled up slightly, and he quietly adjusted his hiding position. Although it was not the first time he witnessed the struggle of extraordinary people, a confrontation of this scale still made him excited.

However, he was not the only spectator. Another figure hidden in the dark approached quietly - the gray-robed man who followed Ryan. He moved as fast as a ghost and approached the altar almost instantly. In his hand, he held a dagger emitting a faint blue light, which was obviously a prop specially used to destroy extraordinary rituals.

"There really is a rat in the Spiritual Cult." The gatekeeper on the altar sneered, his voice like a sharp steel needle piercing the eardrum. He swung his long staff violently, and a torrent of blood-red energy whizzed out, heading straight for the cloaked man. The cloaked man moved very quickly, his body disappeared as if blending into the darkness, but the blood-red energy suddenly exploded in mid-air, and the powerful impact forced him back several meters.

Ryan nodded secretly and murmured with interest: "Not bad, just as expected."

The other members of the Spiritual Cult also reacted quickly. Two of them tore the parchment scrolls in their hands, releasing beams of blazing white light, trying to lock the position of the cloaked man, while the other three took out small bottles filled with liquid from their arms and sprinkled them towards the center of the altar. The scarlet liquid evaporated quickly and turned into a strange red mist, covering the entire area.

In the red mist, the gray-robed man reappeared. He did not seem to be afraid of this extraordinary environment. His movements were still swift. The dagger drew a sharp arc in the air and rushed directly to the gatekeeper on the altar. However, all this was within the gatekeeper's expectations. He raised the long staff in his hand and gently pointed at the void. The illusory door suddenly expanded, and a low roar came from behind the door, as if some terrifying existence was about to break out of the door.

"Well, this is getting interesting." Ryan narrowed his eyes. His attention was completely drawn to the battlefield, and he was quickly speculating on the direction of the situation in his mind.

The Spirit Cult was powerful, but the skills and equipment of the Gray Robes were equally important. Their battle became increasingly intense, and the entire space seemed to have turned into a stage in a storm. Every confrontation created shock waves that creaked the surrounding mechanical structures.

"However, no matter who wins or loses, there will be bigger surprises waiting for the winner after this scene." Ryan glanced at the bracelet on his wrist, rubbed it gently, and then disappeared into the darkness again.

The battle became more intense, and the entire underground space seemed to be torn apart by the violent extraordinary force. The illusory door slowly opened, and a huge figure loomed behind the door. It was an indescribable existence, like the embodiment of chaos and madness, and any gaze seemed to tear apart reason.

Even with the protection of the extraordinary item made by Russell, Ryan still felt dizzy and had a dull pain in his chest. He clenched his teeth and quickly shifted his gaze, not daring to look at it for another second. He understood that this level of power was not something he could touch or deal with at the moment. Even if it was just a passing distance, it would be enough to cause his mental breakdown.

"What on earth is this summoning..." He muttered in a low voice, forcing himself to calm down and retract all overly dangerous curiosity.

However, just now, in that moment of gaze, he vaguely saw something - in that huge illusory figure, there seemed to be a real entity. It was not the whole picture of the thing behind the door, but a piece of... scales.

It was a piece of exaggerated scales with complex textures, flashing with a strange dark red luster, as if every line contained endless chaos and madness. Even a brief glance made Ryan feel a sense of oppression that was almost suffocating.

"Scales?" He repeated this in his heart and couldn't help but frown. The ritual of the Spirit Cult this time was not simply to summon a certain existence, but it seemed to be trying to awaken the thing behind the door. Thinking of this, he felt a chill in his heart and knew that he must not get any closer.

Feeling an unprecedented sense of oppression, he couldn't help but shudder and cursed in a low voice: "Crazy... This place is completely crazy."

Realizing that the situation was completely beyond his ability, Ryan decisively chose to retreat. He stuck to the wall, avoiding the surge of energy, and quickly distanced himself from the battlefield.

"No mortal can resist what the Spirit Cult summons." Ryan murmured in a low voice, with a hint of vigilance in his eyes. His heart was still beating faster because of the brief glimpse just now, and the strange pattern of the dark red scales seemed to still appear before his eyes.

He secretly thanked himself for not indulging in the attraction of the scales, and for not being driven by curiosity to approach the altar rashly. He knew very well that the things that were regarded as the core ritual materials by the gatekeepers must contain dangers beyond understanding, and even madness beyond reason.

"It's not worth it to die here." Ryan warned himself silently, gently stroking the bracelet on his wrist. This extraordinary item made by Roselle himself has been protecting his sanity, and even when facing incomprehensible madness, it can build a barrier for him. Although he often complained about Roselle's "strange habits", at this moment, he had to admit that the emperor's creation had saved him more than once.

"Let them fight it out," Ryan said to himself, with a hint of sarcasm in his tone, "I don't dare get involved in things of this level."

Then, he turned around decisively, his figure disappeared into deeper darkness, and he never looked back.

When he reached the exit of the underground space, Ryan stopped involuntarily and looked back at the chaotic battlefield. In the distance, the illusory door had been opened for the most part, surging with invisible madness and chaos, like a whirlpool in the deep sea, swallowing up the order of the entire space. The air was filled with an indescribable sense of oppression, almost suffocating.

The cloaked man still stood in the center of the battlefield, his movements becoming more frantic, like a completely ignited flame. Under the pressure of the red mist and the illusory gate, his figure was still as agile as a ghost, and every swing of the dagger was accurate and deadly, and the arc of light was like a flash of lightning in the darkness, constantly tearing the enemy's line. Every move he made was full of indomitable determination, as if he wanted to use his flesh and blood to fight against the Beyonder in front of him and the crazy vortex behind him.

"What a great 'friend'." Ryan murmured softly, staring at the cloaked man with a complex look, with a bit of respect and a bit of cold calculation. His usual nonchalant expression now had a little more depth, and the corners of his mouth slowly rose, outlining a meaningful smile.

Then he slowly raised his hand and saluted slightly in the direction of the cloaked man. His movements were elegant and calm, as if he was expressing his gratitude to an old friend he had not seen for a long time.Chapter 166 Nursery RhymesTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2355 wordsUpdate time: 2024-11-20 17:30:06

Ryan turned his eyes away from the chaotic battlefield and turned to walk into the passage where light and shadow intertwined. His figure gradually disappeared in the faint light, and behind him, the madness and chaos still silently tore at the remaining order.

"I hope you can hold on a little longer." He thought silently, his fingertips lightly stroking the shielding bracelet on his wrist. The cold touch made his thoughts clearer. A trace of cold self-mockery appeared at the corner of his mouth, "This way, I won't have risked my life to bring you here in vain."

The passage was dim, and the runes engraved on the wall glowed from time to time, casting mottled shadows. The air was filled with a faint burning smell, and the stone slabs under his feet seemed to record some indescribable stories. Ryan's steps were steady, but with a hint of caution. He listened attentively, and the aftermath of the battle surged like a tide, mixed with the low roar of the illusory door slowly opening. The frenzied power that came at him was like a biting cold current, forcing him to speed up his pace.

"The Spirit Cult spared no expense for this ritual. The thing they summoned..." His eyes swept across the energy fluctuations surging in the distance, and a chill rose in his heart. "It is definitely not something that mortals can deal with."

The face of the stalker flashed through his mind. Although the other party's ability was extraordinary, he was just a mortal after all, and he was too conceited. Ryan thought of the fleeting flashing scales, and even he himself was almost torn apart by reason, not to mention the spy who didn't know how to live or die.

"What a pity." He sighed softly, as if mourning for a chess piece destined to wither, but the indifference in his tone made people shudder. His fingers lightly tapped the runes on the wall, and a faint energy spread out, covering up the aura, and the hustle and bustle of the battlefield was completely left behind.

Stepping out of the passage, the cold wind with the smell of coal smoke hit him in the face. The night in Backlund was still dull, and the dim kerosene lamp swayed in the wind, casting a vague light. Ryan walked out of a dark alley, and the cloak on his body fluttered slightly with the wind. He looked up at the swaying lights, and a cold light flashed in his eyes.

"It's time to change your identity."

He lowered his head and stroked the rune patterns on his bracelet, quickly thinking about how to escape from the heavy pursuit. The fall of the royal spy was bound to attract complicated attention, and the activities of the Spiritual Cult were becoming more rampant. The conflict between these two forces might buy him enough time.

He stopped at the entrance of a remote alley and looked around. The smell of decay was carried by the cold wind through the streets. He took out a piece of bloodstained cloth from his bosom and carefully smeared it on the wall. He also threw down a short cloak with burn marks, disguising it as traces of a hasty escape. Then, he squatted down to check the footprints on the ground, deliberately adjusting a few messy positions, as if outlining an unfinished pursuit.

"These are enough to make the royal family set their sights on the Spiritual Cult." He sneered, clapped his hands in satisfaction, and quickly disappeared into the shadows.

After walking through several hidden alleys, Ryan appeared in front of an inconspicuous hotel. The old sign swayed in the wind, and the weak light shone through the dirty glass onto the stone road. This was the "Shadow Land", a secret base of Backlund's underground world, providing a safe haven for extraordinary people, but also a place of filth.

After opening the door, the short man behind the counter smiled professionally: "Sir, what kind of room do you need?"

Ryan threw a small bag of gold coins onto the counter: "Be quiet, no one will disturb you."

The short man weighed the gold coin quickly, and the smile on his face became more flattering: "At the end of the third floor, the key is here."

After entering the room, Ryan closed the door and drew down the curtains, plunging the entire space into darkness. He lit the kerosene lamp, and the shadows of the items on the table swayed with the dim light. He took out a pen and paper and wrote quickly at the table:

"To Duke Charles:

The activities of the Spiritual Cult are becoming more rampant, and this incident even involves spies from the royal family. The outcome is not optimistic..."

At this point, he paused for a moment, recalling the stunning glimpse he had during the sacrificial ceremony not long ago, and pressed the pen a little harder. Then he continued writing:

"...I suggest dispatching a higher-level Beyonder to conduct an in-depth investigation. This matter is of great importance. I have attached some intelligence clues, I hope they can be of help."

He sealed the envelope and sealed it with a forged royal envoy's seal. After confirming that the letter was complete, Ryan carefully arranged the room: a scorched cloak, a broken dagger, and several pieces of bloodstained cloth. Each item was placed just right, as if a thrilling fight had taken place here.

"The royal family will believe that this is the work of the Spiritual Cult, and the Spiritual Cult..." He sneered, "They are busy looking for me, so they probably don't have time to explain."

Finally, he carefully placed a tiny fire crystal on the table. The energy contained in the crystal was enough to burn the entire room, even the traces left by the rune formation.

Standing in front of the mirror, Ryan looked at his own face. The person in the mirror had a cold look and a hint of fatigue.

"Lion is dead," he whispered like the final act of a drama.

After confirming that nothing was left out, he blew out the kerosene lamp, opened the window, and jumped down. In the night, his figure was like a light feather, disappearing into the darkness of Backlund.

Soon after, in a room of the hotel, a blue flame suddenly rose, turning all traces into ashes. In the alley far away, Ryan's footsteps were steady, and his eyes seemed to penetrate the fog of the city and look into the unknown distance.

He hummed a low nursery rhyme, and the melody floated in the silent city:

"Row after row, lying in the graves,

Whoever knocks on whose door must lead the horse.

One can't see, two can't tell,

The third one waited quietly under the last light."

The end of the nursery rhyme gradually faded away, and Ryan raised a grim smile. His steps were steady, blending into the shadows of Backlund's night, as if he had become invisible.

After passing through several dark alleys, he stopped at a damp, cold, and dim street corner, leaning against a mossy brick wall. His breath seemed to make the whole world silent for a moment. The cold wind blew through the alley, rolling up the paper scraps and dust on the ground. Ryan reached out and touched an exquisite belt around his waist. The belt was engraved with ancient and complex runes, like an item that did not belong to this era, flashing a faint blue light in the weak light.

Along with the shameful movements and lines, the runes on the belt began to emit a soft blue light. A strange power spread out from the belt and covered his whole body. The air seemed to be distorted, rippling faintly, and the shadows on the wall also trembled, as if some kind of creature was lurking and spying.

Ryan closed his eyes and quietly felt the flow of power. His body changed under the blue light. The contours of his face became more angular, his hair color gradually changed from dark brown to dazzling gold, and even the color of his pupils quietly changed to cold gray-blue. His figure was slightly taller, his shoulders were more upright, and his finger joints and bones were longer. His originally casual clothes were slowly adjusted in the blue light, and finally became a well-cut black suit, with some inconspicuous dark patterns faintly embroidered on the lapel.

When the light completely faded and the ripples in the air gradually disappeared, Ryan slowly opened his eyes. He raised his hands and moved his joints with a bit of grace, and then tried to do a few simple stretches with his new body. The subtle discomfort was fleeting, and he raised the corners of his mouth slightly and whispered to himself:

"Perfect."

His voice was deeper and more charming than before, as if even the tone of his voice had changed slightly with this new look.

"A new identity," he said softly, as if reminding himself, "requires a new name. And a name is not only a cover, but also a key."Chapter 167 Abel KleinTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2347 wordsUpdate time: 2024-11-21 17:30:04

At the end of the dim alley, a kerosene lamp emitted a faint yellow light, outlining the vague outline of Backlund at night. The humid air was mixed with the smell of coal smoke, which filled the narrow streets, sticky and depressing. Ryan hid in the shadows, lowered his head and thought, his fingertips unconsciously tapping the rune belt around his waist, and the subtle impact sounded particularly clear in the silence.

He looked up, his deep gaze piercing through the night sky and looking into the distance. A name popped up in his mind, but he couldn't say it out loud.

"It has to be simple yet powerful, suitable for this face, and at the same time... cover up more things." He touched his chin and muttered to himself, his tone as steady as a deliberately suppressed tide.

A cat's cry came from a distance, short and distant, as if responding to his thoughts. The corners of his lips slightly raised, and a sneer flashed across his face.

"Abel Crane." He finally spoke, his voice was low, but it sounded like some kind of announcement, or a silent hint.

The name sounds ordinary, but it contains a kind of rhythm that is difficult to see through. He nodded with satisfaction, and the curve of his mouth deepened a little, with a bit of cold complacency.

"Abel Klein." He whispered again, engraving the name into his mind. From this moment on, Ryan was buried, and Abel Klein was born from the shadows and merged into Backlund's dark world.

Adjusting his collar, he glanced at the dim lights at the alley entrance and stepped into the night. He was no longer a green novice entering the underground world. He was very familiar with how to create a watertight identity.

After walking out of the alley, he took out the fake ID he had prepared in his arms. On the paper, the name "Abel Klein" was written clearly and neatly, with a perfectly forged background attached: a free trader from a small northern town, specializing in rare goods and special commissions, and skilled in negotiation. Between the lines, traces of meticulous scrutiny were revealed everywhere.

Ryan stroked the certificate, a faint smile on his face.

"This identity is more perfect than the last one." He murmured in a low voice, with a determined light in his eyes, "It is enough to cover my whereabouts and integrate into the underground world without any obstacles."

Then, he approached a dilapidated tower, moved his lips slightly, and chanted an obscure spell softly. As the last syllable fell, a faint light appeared in the air, condensing into a white crow with silver feathers. Its smart eyes stared at Ryan and chirped softly.

"Go find Bernadette." Ryan stuffed a folded note into the crow's beak. There were only a few words written on the note: "Tomorrow night, Old Tower Pier, midnight."

The white crow flapped its wings and flew up, transforming into a streak of silver light before disappearing into the shadows of Backlund's tall buildings.

After watching the white crow fly away, Ryan turned and disappeared into the darkness. His new identity was complete. Next, he needed Bernadette's help to lay out this complicated chess game.

At midnight the next day, the pier next to the old tower was shrouded in thick fog, and cold water vapor filled the Thames, adding a mysterious veil to this secret meeting. The occasional sound of flowing water and the ringing of bells in the distance further highlighted the tranquility and danger here.

Abel Crane stood by the wooden piles at the dock, his figure hidden in a dark long windbreaker. The brim of his hat was pulled down very low, covering most of his face, revealing only his cold eyes. The river breeze blew the corners of his clothes, and his fingertips gently stroked the rune belt, as if drawing some kind of power.

There were light footsteps in the distance. He did not turn around, but his hand quietly moved to his chest and clenched something. A figure gradually emerged in the mist.

She was wearing a dark blue cloak, and her steps were light and graceful. The shadow of the cloak covered most of her face, and only her sharp eyes flickered in the darkness, carrying a hint of invisible oppression.

"Bernadette," Abel said, his tone calm and firm, "Everything went better than expected."

"Don't be careless." Bernadette's tone was calm, but mixed with warnings, "They are much more difficult than you think."

Abel chuckled, his voice revealing a hint of self-mockery: "I know."

"You can create a new identity for yourself, but don't forget who you are." Bernadette looked at him with sharp eyes.

Abel was slightly startled. After a moment of silence, a faint smile appeared on the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were filled with complex emotions: "Forget your true self? Sometimes, I even doubt what my 'true self' is."

"The higher the sequence, the more humanity is needed." Bernadette's voice was firm.

Abel lowered his eyes in deep thought and said nothing more. He took the pocket watch from Bernadette, nodded in greeting, and watched her figure gradually disappear into the mist.

The night fog of the Thames River enveloped the dock, and the damp and cold air was filled with the smell of river water and coal smoke, as if a curtain was cast to conceal the truth. Abel Crane - or Ryan in the past, stared down at the pocket watch in his hand, and the metal case reflected a cold light under the weak light.

"Humanity... the last line of defense?" He murmured to himself, with an indescribable complex emotion in his tone.

He looked up at the river shrouded in mist. The dark water was like a broken mirror, vaguely reflecting his figure, but there seemed to be an invisible shadow, as if he had long since abandoned himself. His gaze lingered for a moment, then quickly retracted, as if he was resisting touching some hidden secret.

"Now is not the time to think about this." He closed his pocket watch with force, and the metal sound was particularly clear in the night. This brief sound seemed to inject a sense of calmness into him.

"The royal family and the Spiritual Cult will not be kept in the dark forever," Abel whispered, his tone steady but revealing a sense of urgency. "I must complete the layout before they notice."

He tightened his long windbreaker, turned around and strode away from the dock, his figure quickly disappearing into the night. The cold wind blew the corners of his coat, and his steps were light and swift, as secretive but unstoppable as the undercurrent under the Thames.

Abel stroked the rune belt around his waist, his fingers running over the cold indentations. A sneer appeared on the corner of his mouth: "The best way to hide is to leave just the right trace."

A clean and flawless identity will always arouse suspicion. On the contrary, those backgrounds that seem real but have gaps can most effectively lead the tracker astray. He has already thought of the next move - a small trading house on the edge of the East District.

"The East District is where the poor and laborers gather. The environment is complex but transportation is convenient. As a free trader, I deal in rare materials and special goods. This cover is ordinary enough and even has a hint of inspiration." He whispered to himself, calmly and confidently.

In his mind, he had almost constructed a complete and detailed identity background:

"Abel Klein, a free trader from a small town in the north, arrived in Backlund a few days ago for a rare goods transaction that needed to be discussed urgently. He originally planned to stay for a short time, but the prosperity and opportunities here gave him a new plan - to stay and develop more business."

Such a background made his identity more vivid and natural, and at the same time explained why he had not yet fully integrated into Backlund, and also left a vague space for possible background checks - a businessman who had just arrived in the city had not yet taken root, whether in terms of his scope of activities or interpersonal relationships, which would make it easier for him to make plans.

A faint smile appeared on his lips, and he whispered to himself: "No one will doubt a new businessman."

The next step is to raise start-up capital and find a store that can be abandoned at any time.

The night was deep, and the lights of the East End flickered in the fog. Abel took a deep breath, took a step, and walked towards there. His figure disappeared in the crowd, like a drop of water merging into the undercurrent of the Thames, silent but full of power.Chapter 168 ShopTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2417 wordsUpdate time: 2024-11-22 17:30:07

Abel shuttled through the narrow streets of Backlund's East District. The streets here were made even more cramped by low buildings, and the dim kerosene lamps made the slippery stone floors flicker. Most of the pedestrians were in a hurry, wearing worn-out hats and lowering their heads to avoid the cold wind and other people's gazes. The occasional shouts or footsteps added a touch of vitality to the silent night.

In such an environment, Abel walked calmly and secretly. His steps seemed casual, but in fact, he was observing his surroundings with every step, looking for a suitable target. He needed a middleman - someone who was familiar with Backlund's underground trading network and was greedy or in urgent need of money. They were the best information nodes in the city and could also raise the first round of funds for him.

Soon, his eyes fell on a shabby tavern on the corner. The paint on the sign had long since peeled off, and through the blurry glass windows, he could vaguely see a few sparse tables and chairs inside, as well as a few suspicious men talking in low voices. Standing at the door was a beggar in disheveled clothes, holding a bottle of wine, with a dazed look in his eyes, but he instinctively glanced at Abel when he passed by.

Abel stopped and smiled. He did not walk into the tavern directly, but went around to the alley across the street and leaned in the shadows to observe. Although this tavern looked ordinary, he knew that such places often hid a wealth of information, and even some special transactions. As long as he found a suitable entry point, he could further develop his plan.

After a while, he finally took action. He straightened his collar, pushed open the heavy wooden door of the tavern, and walked in steadily. The tavern was filled with the mixed smell of cheap tobacco and inferior alcohol. Several people sitting in the corner raised their heads, looked at the stranger, and then lowered their heads to continue their conversation.

Abel walked straight to the bar, his eyes calm but sharp. He knocked on the counter lightly and called the bartender who was cleaning the glasses.

"Do you have time to chat?" His tone was calm, but his eyes were fixed on the other person.

The bartender was slightly startled, then put down the cup in his hand and asked in a low voice: "Sir, what are you looking for? This is a place for honest people."

Abel showed a half-smile, took out a few banknotes from his pocket and placed them casually on the counter.

"I need some information." He paused and continued, "Or rather, a deal."

The bartender's eyes swept over the bills, and his expression suddenly became more enthusiastic. He moved closer and lowered his voice, "You have to ask George, he's in charge of the business in this area. He's in the private room at the back."

Abel nodded, picked up the glass of wine handed over by the bartender, and walked slowly to the private room. When he opened the door, he saw a middle-aged man wearing a golden monocle sitting on a worn sofa, smoking a pipe. The man looked up at him, with a playful smile on his face.

"Sit down, stranger," the man said in a low, hoarse voice, "and tell me what you want."

Abel sat down, placed his glass on the table, leaned forward slightly, and looked the other man in the eye.

"I need some money, quick and clean," he said, neither humble nor arrogant.

"Oh?" The man raised his eyebrows. "So, what you can offer is also worthy of this 'quick and clean'?"

Abel's mouth corners slightly raised, his fingers tapped lightly on the table, his voice steady and confident: "I can not only provide goods, but also provide the channels and opportunities that you are interested in."

The man's eyes became sharper. He lit his pipe, took a deep breath, slowly exhaled the smoke, and laughed softly, "Interesting, go on."

"I'm a businessman who just arrived in Backlund." Abel spoke slowly, his tone steady but with a hint of tension, "I brought some rare goods, and these goods... need a suitable buyer."

He paused and added, "In the meantime, I need a place to stay. If you help me, I can help you make more money."

The man's gaze lingered on Abel's face for a moment, and then he showed a meaningful smile: "You are really a bold newbie. However, I like dealing with smart people."

He stood up, took out a piece of paper from the cabinet next to him, and handed it to Abel: "Here are several suitable locations. You can choose one of them as a starting point. As for the funds..."

He smiled slightly and pointed his pipe at the other end of the table: "That depends on whether your goods are worth the price."

Abel smiled slightly, reached out and took out a small cloth bag from his arms and placed it on the table. There were a few slight collision sounds coming from the bag, like some kind of metal product.

The man opened the bag and his eyes immediately became serious. He took out a ring with a unique luster, looked at it carefully, and praised: "Good stuff, it seems you are not joking."

"Deal, then?" Abel raised his head and said with a firm tone.

The man chuckled, resealed the bag, and nodded: "Deal."

Their hands briefly shook on the table. Abel nodded slightly, picked up the paper, stood up, and turned to leave the private room. The noise and smoke of the tavern were still there, and his plan also took the first step forward at this moment.

Abel left the room with brisk but cautious steps. He lowered his head and unfolded the paper, taking a quick glance at it in the dim light of the pub. The three locations listed on the paper were an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the East District, a small shop hidden in the downtown area, and an unused boathouse near the port.

Abel frowned slightly. Each of these three locations has its own advantages and disadvantages. The warehouse is suitable for temporary storage of supplies, but it is too remote and easily exposes potential secret operations; the shop is the choice that is closest to the identity of a "merchant" and is convenient for contact with ordinary customers, but the risk is that the flow of people is too large and difficult to fully control; as for the houseboat, although it is well concealed, if it is discovered, the options for escape will be very limited.

"It's time to test my judgment." Abel whispered to himself, but a confident smile appeared on his lips. He quickly made a choice - a small shop. Although the risk was slightly higher, its geographical location was unique. It was not only located at the junction of the East District and the city center, but also close to several main streets. It was convenient for him to set up the store and could also attract customers who were interested in "rare goods".

"The more ordinary a place is, the easier it is to hide an extraordinary plan." Abel put away the paper and threw a coin to the beggar at the door when he left the tavern. The beggar took the coin and smiled toothlessly without even looking at him.

After walking out of the tavern, a cold wind and thick fog hit him in the face. Abel pulled up the collar of his windbreaker and took a deep breath of the damp and cold air. He had a clearer plan for the next step in his mind. He needed a small team, a group of people who were sensitive to money but not so picky about morality. Such people were not uncommon in the dark corners of Backlund's East District.

Late at night, Abel stood outside the selected shop and looked around. This was a narrow but not remote street, with ordinary houses and small workshops on both sides. The sign outside the shop had faded, and it was obvious that no one had used it for some time. Abel reached out and pushed open the door. With a creaking sound of the wooden door, he entered this future base.

The store was small, but well laid out. An old counter occupied the center, and there were several broken shelves hanging on the wall. Abel walked slowly, brushing his fingers across the counter, leaving traces of dust on his fingertips. He said softly, "Maybe it needs some care, but it's enough."

After looking around, he focused his attention on the wall clock on one side. The clock had stopped, but its location and the structure behind the wall made Abel keenly aware that there might be a secret compartment here. He knocked on the wall lightly a few times, and sure enough, he heard a hollow echo. The smile on his lips became even deeper.

"This is indeed a good start," he whispered, then turned to the door and locked it again.Chapter 169 OpeningTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2392 wordsUpdate time: 2024-11-23 17:30:06

A few days later, the shop was renovated. The old sign was replaced with a finely carved wooden sign with the golden characters "Klein Trading Company - Rare Materials Supply" engraved on it.

The shelves are filled with goods that Bernadette collected from all over the place. Most of them are ordinary goods, but a few seemingly inconspicuous gadgets inadvertently exude a mysterious atmosphere: a few bottles of potions filled with strange liquids, a few accessories from overseas, and even a crown made of feathers - they seem to be whispering the secret stories behind the store.

In order to maintain the mystery of the store and to free up more time to handle his own affairs, Albert hired a clerk. This man was in his early thirties, with ordinary looks and a medium build, but with a pair of sharp eagle eyes. He stood behind the counter, adjusted his cuffs, and smiled calmly. This calmness was out of tune with the atmosphere of the dilapidated streets in the surrounding East District, as if to imply that he was not an ordinary person.

At dusk, a wooden sign reading "Open" was hung on the door of "Klein Trading Company". Dull knocks were heard one after another, and several curious passers-by pushed the door open. Most of them were nearby residents or workers, and they were full of curiosity about the newly opened store. But when their eyes swept over the slightly ordinary goods on the shelves, their interest quickly faded. They casually flipped through them for a few seconds, shook their heads and left. However, a few special items - especially the feather crown, always made them look a few more times before leaving.

The clerk behind the counter seemed calm and composed. His tone was neither cold nor warm, neither distant nor overly enthusiastic. Occasionally, he stopped tidying up the shelves and scanned every customer who entered the store with his sharp eyes, as if observing their reactions.

Abel hid behind the secret window of the back compartment, silently watching everything in the store. He was not surprised by the quiet business today. The real meaning of a shop is not profit, but a carefully woven net, a trap to catch prey.

In the evening, after the last customer left, the clerk closed the door and turned to Abel and said, "Boss, this is the first day, nothing special."

Abel smiled slightly, as if he had expected this. He picked up the bill, which only recorded a few small transactions. He put the bill back on the table, took out a silver coin and handed it to the clerk: "It takes time for a store to be remembered. I believe in your ability. From the first time I saw you, I knew you had your own ambitions."

The clerk took the silver coin, smiled meaningfully, nodded, and left.

In the dead of night, the East District was shrouded in a thin mist. Abel closed the window of the compartment and returned to the table. He unfolded a rough map and marked several important locations on it with a feather pen: the base of underground gatherings, the route of secret transactions, and the area related to the rumors of the Spiritual Cult... Each mark was a piece of the puzzle, weaving a hunting net in his plan.

"Weaving a web requires patience." He whispered to himself, tapping the table with his fingertips. He took out a pocket watch from his waist - this was an extraordinary item, given to him by Bernadette. When he was helping her decipher Roselle's diary, he found the record of this pocket watch:

"This is a remarkable item that I made with my own hands, just in case I am ever deceived by those 'dear friends' again."

The function of this pocket watch is simple but deadly: it can remind the user whether the other person's words are deceptive. But as a price, the user must endure constant heartache, which will only be relieved when hearing lies.

A few days ago, Abel spread a rumor at the Backlund train station:

"In the northern town of Greenwell, there is an abandoned castle. A few years ago, someone found a feather headdress as black as night in a secret compartment of the castle. Those who came into contact with it all died in bizarre ways. Eventually, the headdress was taken away by a foreign merchant at a low price, and its whereabouts remain unknown to this day."

Such a story would naturally be exaggerated by the spreader. Thus, a new rumor began to spread in Backlund. Some people said that the businessman appeared in the East District and opened an inconspicuous shop. The feather ornaments displayed in the shop were likely related to the rumored "cursed headdress".

Abel knew that these rumors, filled with fear and desire, were the best bait for prey.

After closing the last door of the shop, Abel walked into the misty street. His long windbreaker fluttered in the night wind, and his fingers gently stroked the smooth surface of his pocket watch. His eyes swept through the dim alleys on both sides of the street, and his mind began to calculate the next step.

The next morning, Backlund was covered in thick fog, and the damp and cold air enveloped the streets. The wooden sign of Klein Trading Company was particularly eye-catching in the thin morning light. Abel stood in a small compartment at the back, observing everything in the store through a hidden window. His expression was calm, but his eyes were deep, as if he was waiting for a drama to be staged.

He knew that today would be a critical moment in the plan.

The silence of the morning was broken by several rapid knocks on the door. The clerk behind the counter stopped tidying up the shelves and walked over to open the door. There were two people standing outside the door - a middle-aged policeman in police uniform and a strange man in an unknown uniform with a stern expression. They were obviously not visiting by chance.

"We received a report," the policeman said straight to the point, his tone stiff and unquestionable, "someone said that your store displays illegal items, and may even involve dangerous heretical objects."

He glanced at the store shelves and his eyes quickly locked on the feather crown. He frowned slightly, obviously caring about this item very much.

The clerk's eyes flickered slightly, but he quickly regained his composure. He replied calmly, "Officer, this is just an ordinary ornament brought from the north. It is indeed somewhat unique, but it is not illegal, let alone dangerous."

The man next to him suddenly snorted. His voice was hoarse and oppressive, as if it could make people unable to breathe. He slowly walked towards the shelf, stretched out his slender fingers, and fiddled with the feather crown, his eyes focused, as if confirming some details. Then, he turned to look at the clerk and said coldly: "It is rumored that this kind of feather item can cause curses and even bring death. Can you guarantee that it is completely fine?"

The clerk's fingers trembled slightly, but he took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. He raised his head, looked at the man, and said firmly: "If there is really something wrong with this thing, why would I dare to display it on the shelf? We are in the business of rare items. You must have believed those rumors that were made up out of nothing."

The policeman didn't buy the clerk's explanation. He sneered and said in a more severe tone: "If you don't want to be charged with concealing dangerous goods, then cooperate and hand it over to us for inspection. If it is confirmed to be harmless, we will naturally clear you of all charges. Otherwise... obstructing law enforcement is not a wise choice."

The clerk's eyes flickered, as if he was assessing the situation.

At the same time, the man no longer waited, he took the feather crown from the shelf smoothly and wrapped it carefully with a handkerchief. Every move seemed calm and even a little provocative. His expression was indifferent, as if everything was under his control.

The clerk was about to open his mouth to argue, but was stopped by the policeman with a cold look. The policeman interrupted in a stern tone: "Don't say anything, this is a formal investigation procedure, just cooperate."

He paused, then turned around and added coldly, "We will take this item away for further inspection. If it is confirmed to be harmless, it will naturally be returned to you."

Abel watched all this through the secret window, and a sneer appeared on his lips. He flicked his pocket watch and whispered to himself, "The fish has taken the bait..."Chapter 170 OpportunityTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2207 wordsUpdate time: 2024-11-24 17:30:03

After the two left, the clerk quickly locked the door and almost rushed to the back compartment. He stood at the door and knocked twice before pushing the door open, with a hint of anxiety in his tone: "Boss, the police and the stranger took the feather crown away, saying they wanted to check it and mentioned reporting it. Their attitude was very tough...something is wrong."

Abel was calmly fiddling with his pocket watch when he heard this. He glanced at the clerk, then smiled meaningfully and flicked the pocket watch cover with his finger: "Sit down." His tone was low, but it had the power to calm people down unconsciously.

He closed his pocket watch, put it back into his windbreaker pocket, stood up, walked to the display shelf, and arranged a piece of jewelry. His movements seemed neither hurried nor slow, and even a little elegant.

"I understand. Don't panic." Abel's voice was steady, like a jumping fire in the winter night, dispelling the clerk's anxiety. "The feather crown was taken away, which means that our store has attracted the attention of some people. This may not be a bad thing for business."

The clerk was stunned for a moment, then his face relaxed a little, but his brows were still furrowed. "But if the report is true, will it affect the reputation of our store? We are just starting out, and our foundation is not stable yet."

Abel chuckled, turned around and looked at him, his eyes full of meaning: "Don't worry, our goods are from a clean source and can withstand any inspection. What you need to do is to run this store well and make it more attractive. The greater the reputation, the more stable the business. As for those troublesome matters..." He put his hand on the clerk's shoulder, his tone gentle but unquestionable, "I will take care of it."

He lowered his voice slightly and said, "You are ambitious and want to make this store the most unique one in the East District. I can see that and I support you. Believe me, this little disturbance will not become an obstacle for you."

The clerk took a deep breath, his eyes stayed on Abel's calm expression for a moment, and finally nodded: "I understand, boss. I will do my best and live up to your trust."

Abel nodded slightly, sat down again, and cast his eyes toward the thick fog outside the window. His pocket watch was hidden in his windbreaker pocket, as if a curtain had fallen. His fingers tapped the table lightly, and a thoughtful smile appeared on his face.

"The bigger the business, the safer the hidden things are." His thoughts were churning, but he never showed them.

Meanwhile, the man had taken the feather crown back to the secret room of the police station. He unwrapped it and placed the crown on the table, his eyes focused and his movements cautious. He touched the feathers on the crown with his fingers and frowned slightly: "It does have a faint supernatural aura, but it is too weak to be a real heretical item."

He turned to look at the policeman beside him and said in a low voice: "Continue to investigate this store, especially the owner Abel. He is definitely not a simple person."

The police nodded and left. The man pondered for a moment and took out a small device. Complex gears were slowly turning inside it, and a shimmering blue crystal was inlaid in the center. He put the feather crown into the groove and pressed the switch.

The blue light suddenly became brighter, and a ripple-shaped halo enveloped the crown. The man frowned even more and muttered to himself, "Its aura has been weakened... or, its true purpose has been hidden."

While the man was studying the feather crown, the police officer in charge of the case sorted out Abel's background information. The file was so thin that it almost made people doubt its authenticity. The content was very limited, only recording Abel's arrival in Backlund a few days ago and the simple information that he used a huge sum of money to open a trading company.

The policeman knocked on the table coldly and said to his assistant: "Dig out all the information about Abel, especially his source of funds and recent whereabouts. I don't believe he is just an ordinary businessman."

The assistant responded and left.

In the evening, Klein Trading Company

Abel sat leisurely by the window, his fingertips gently caressing the warm ceramic wall of the teacup, the aroma of tea wafting up. He looked at the outlines of the street through the misty glass. The hustle and bustle of the outside world was blocked by the thick fog, as if the whole city was hidden in some kind of quiet and dangerous cover.

The light in the store is warm and soft, shining on the displayed items, making each craft look exquisite. The tranquility of the room is further weighed down by an invisible tension.

Suddenly, a knock on the door broke the peace.

The knock on the door was not urgent, but the rhythm was clear and had some kind of secret meaning. Abel paused, then gently placed the teacup on the table, looked up at the clerk, and said in a calm but unquestionable voice: "Go open the door, our guests are here."

The clerk hesitated for a moment, as if he felt some kind of inexplicable pressure. He took a deep breath, walked quickly to the door, and unlocked it.

Three well-dressed men stood outside the door. The leader wore a dark hat and held an umbrella handle. His eyes were as sharp as an eagle under the brim of his hat. He glanced around the store, his eyes slashing through every corner like a knife.

"Mr. Abel." The leading man took off his hat and nodded slightly. His voice was steady but tentative. "I heard that your store has attracted some...special attention recently."

Abel slowly stood up, a faint smile on his face. He raised his hand and made a gesture of invitation, his movements calm and elegant: "That's why I invited you all to come."

The three of them walked into the store and the door closed gently behind the clerk, completely isolating them from the outside world.

Abel led the group to the tea table. His eyes fell on the leading man and he asked with a half-smile, "Tea? I bought this aged black tea from the north. It has a unique flavor."

Several people sat down, and the leading man sat upright, his face still stern. He glanced at Abel and said straight to the point, "Does the police's attention bother you?"

Abel chuckled, picked up the teapot slowly, and poured tea for the three people. As the spout of the teapot tilted, amber tea flowed down, and the fragrance of tea spread throughout the room. His movements were elegant and rhythmic, as if he was responding to a provocation.

"Trouble?" Abel repeated the word softly, then put down the teapot and picked up his own teacup. He spun the edge of the teacup between his fingers for a moment before he spoke calmly, "In the eyes of businessmen, trouble and opportunity always coexist."

Abel blew the hot steam on the tea surface, and the edge of the teacup tilted slightly, and the amber tea glowed softly under the light. His tone was calm and low, but it carried an unignorable certainty and suggestion, as if every word contained some unspoken deep meaning.

"Focus?" The man next to him raised his eyebrows slightly, his eyes swept across Abel's face, and his tone revealed a bit of suspicion and inquiry, "Mr. Abel, are you saying that this is not a warning to you, but just a test?"

Abel nodded gently, placed the teacup steadily on the table, and slid his fingertips along the edge of the cup, his movements were so leisurely that he seemed to be judging a work of art. His eyes slowly swept over the few people, and the smile on his face was like a light shrouded in mist, indifferent and unfathomable: "Yes, it is more likely to be a test. If it was a warning, they would not send only an ordinary policeman and an investigator who was not even good at covering up. If it was really a warning..."

He paused slightly, his eyes fell on the center of the teacup, his fingers tapped the table inadvertently, and then shrugged, with a hint of nonchalant ridicule in his tone: "The way of action will be much more direct, even more deterrent, instead of testing my attitude like now."