805 Test

805 Test

Lez didn’t ask why. He went upstairs, found a piece of red cloth, and hung it at the entrance of the Carnivore bar.

Lumian then sat at the newly rebuilt bar, enjoying the spiced, marinated roast beef with soft, delicious bread.

As time passed, more and more customers entered the Carnivore bar.

Lez had put up a wooden stand outside with a new menu and corresponding prices.

Of course, this wasn’t the main reason for the influx of customers.

The primary reason was the incredibly low prices on the menu. After all, there was no owner to take a cut.

The customers came in with a sense of skepticism. They didn’t have much faith in the bar under new ownership, repeatedly checking if the prices were real, if there were any hidden costs, and if the portions and quality of the food were as advertised.

This skepticism stemmed from being frequently deceived by Morora’s unscrupulous merchants.

Those merchants had a point, though: “We’ve been exiled here for serious crimes. You can’t expect us to run honest businesses, can you? Besides, the Morora Resident Code doesn’t prohibit false pricing or inferior goods, and the enforcers won’t check the kitchen’s hygiene.”

Most customers were angry but helpless. Those merchants they could deal with had already been eliminated. The remaining ones were too powerful to confront.

They often regretted not keeping a few manageable merchants around to ensure food quality and fair pricing through regular supervision.

Sometimes, killing wasn’t the best solution.

“If I had understood that, I wouldn’t have been exiled to Morora!” A man in his forties voiced his opinion while holding a beer with white foam.

His gaze kept shifting to Julie, temporarily acting as the bartender, hoping to catch her attention with his words and demeanor.

Low prices drew them in, but the pretty bartender made them stay for another drink.

Lumian forked a piece of perfectly roasted beef, savoring the combination of Lez’s secret spices and the tender meat.

He wondered if, after leaving Morora, he should have Ludwig become a head chef.

Can’t waste a Chef’s talent!

After finishing lunch, Lumian took a glass of strong liquor and walked around the hall as the bar owner, piecing together the current situation in Morora from different customers.

Not long after the establishment of this City of Exiles, a class division emerged, mainly based on power.

Today, the Beyonders firmly controlled all key positions in Morora, holding the resources like food, meat, vegetables, dairy products, various minerals, factory goods, sales channels, and street shops. Ordinary criminals without supernatural powers could only serve them, working on farms, in mines, ranches, factories, etc. The better-off were employees; the worse-off were nearly slaves.

For these ordinary criminals, the ultimate dream was to gain the trust of a powerful Beyonder and receive unwanted Beyonder characteristics as rewards after a duel.

This is exactly what the Iron and Blood Cross Order dreamed of, Lumian mused with a chuckle after returning to his seat at the bar.

As a former member of the Iron and Blood Cross Order, he often mocked the awkward “preaching” and “rituals,” but it helped him grasp the core ideology of the Iron and Blood Cross Order:

They wanted to establish a world where Beyonders no longer hid but gained status through power.

Morora seemed to embody this vision.

Lumian was about to finish his drink and find a quiet place upstairs to study when he noticed Gusain, the gentleman, entering the bar.

You came quickly… Someone’s been watching this place? Lumian played with his glass.

Gusain sat beside him, removed his top hat, and addressed Julie, who wore a white blouse, black vest, and a dark tie with a unique charm, “A Lanti Proof.”

In Morora, the most popular drinks were rye beer, Lanti Proof, and red wine.

Lumian took out paper and pen from his Traveler’s Bag and started sketching on the bar counter.

Gusain waited until Julie handed him the Lanti Proof, took a sip, and then smiled ahead.

“You made your decision faster than I expected.”

“I don’t want to be tied down like this,” Lumian replied with a hidden meaning-his true intention was that he didn’t want to stay in Morora long, while Gusain interpreted it as him not wanting to remain under the Church of Knowledge’s rule.

“That’s a choice all strong people make. Eagles don’t mingle with sparrows,” Gusain praised.

Lumian, still sketching, laughed.

“Now, you need to convince me that you have a promising future. I won’t stand with losers.”

“I’ve incited dozens of riots and haven’t been caught by the Church of Knowledge. Isn’t that reason enough?” Gusain sipped his Lanti Proof.

Lumian shook his head.

“In my hometown, there’s a saying, ‘One swallow doesn’t make a summer.’ It means that a single event can’t predict a season. Making hasty judgments based on isolated incidents is unwise.”

“What do you need to be convinced?” Gusain tilted his head.

Lumian chuckled in response.

“Pass my test.”

Gusain paused for a moment, then laughed.

“Normally, wouldn’t it be our organization testing new members to see if they’re qualified. How did it become the other way around?”

“It depends on the new member’s strength and importance, not past experiences,” Lumian said, with an expression suggesting he didn’t need them to stir up trouble-he could form his own team.

Gusain drank his Lanti Proof, then said, “What do you want us to do?”

Lumian remained silent until he finished his sketch, then pushed the paper toward Gusain.

“Find this person.”

The drawing was of Albus Medici.

Although Lumian’s drawing skills weren’t high, his precise control as a Hunter, his deep memory of the subject, and mental reconstruction made Albus Medici’s likeness vivid, capturing his aggressive, unpleasant aura.

“Him?” Gusain asked, confirming as he held the drawing.

Lumian nodded slightly.

“His real name is Albus Medici. I don’t know if he’s using an alias in Morora.”

“Medici…” Gusain repeated the last name softly.

He folded the drawing, tucked it into his pocket, then picked up his drink.

“You can test us, but we need to test you too.

“You must prove your capabilities.”

“Killing the original owner of this bar isn’t enough?” Lumian smiled. “Or do you want to duel me?”

Gusain, maintaining his gentlemanly demeanor, shook his head.

“We acknowledge your strength. Now we need to test other aspects.”

Lumian, holding his glass, turned to Gusain, waiting for him to elaborate.

Gusain glanced around, his eyes resting on the irresistibly charming Julie for a moment.

Lowering his voice, he said, “The Church of Knowledge’s control over Morora relies on something in the underground mausoleum of the cemetery. Our ultimate goal is to break in and take control of it.

“It’s very dangerous. We found a similar place to train our members. Your test is to enter that fog-covered underground area, overcome the challenges, and reach the marked location.”

The goal is still 0-01? Lumian thought for a few seconds and said, “Alright, when do we start?”

“Tonight,” Gussin finished his Lanti Proof, paid, and left the Carnivore bar.

Lumian glanced at Julie, noticing she was dealing with customers politely and reservedly, seemingly unaware of his conversation with Gusain.

Heh… Lumian smirked inwardly, set down his glass, and headed upstairs.

…

Trier, Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative, Apartment 702, 9 Rue Orosai.

“Jenna should be back the day after tomorrow, right?” Franca murmured, standing by the living room window, a bit wistful and fearful.

Her face alternated between light and shadow against the deep night and streetlights, like an enchanting dream.

Suddenly, she saw Penitent Baynfel, dressed in black clerical robes and looking like a charred corpse, emerge from the void, holding a letter.

A letter? Who’s writing to Lumian? Hmm, Baynfel’s appearance here means messengers can’t locate Morora, even those with special contracts… Franca accepted the letter with a polite smile.

“Thank you.”

Baynfel nodded, turned, and vanished into the night outside the window. Franca sighed and mumbled, “l wanted to build a relationship and ask you to introduce me to a messenger…”

She raised her right hand, catching a mixed scent of powder, perfume, grass, flowers, and spices from the letter.

A letter from a woman? Franca, entrusted by Lumian, muttered as she opened the letter and read it.

“Not sure if I should call you Monsieur Louis Berry or Monsieur Lumian Lee.

“Through Rhea, I’ve delved into Matani’s mysticism circle, learning much about the mysticism and realizing I’m not weak-just inexperienced and unable to show it. For real.

“Of course, I’ve also realized the gap between us and how vast the world is beyond Matani.

“I’m willing to help your friend and hope you’ll keep your promise.

“Amandina.”

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