Winter.
Snowflakes fluttered down.
The citizens of this continent, even the poorest among them, took out the last coin in their pockets to buy ribbons, food, sweet wine … to celebrate the arrival of the new year.
Time passed unknowingly, and it was 1603.
Kings City.
"Selling newspapers, selling newspapers!"
A red-faced newsboy in a ragged coat, a cap, and a green cloth bag ran across the street, shouting at the top of his lungs.
He saw frozen corpses being carried out from the alleys by corpse collectors and placed on carriages.
Some of the corpses were homeless people who had gone bankrupt, and some were wearing work clothes. They seemed to be unemployed workers.
At this moment, they had all become cold and stiff corpses, and were carried out of the city by corpse collectors to be cremated.
The factories that emitted black smoke were like a demonic abyss that devoured all life.
The sky was gray, and there was a murderous chill in it.
The paperboy shrunk his neck, shook off the snow on his body, and continued to grit his teeth as he walked through the snow with difficulty.
Thud!
The ground was too slippery, and he fell.
While losing his balance, the paperboy tried his best to raise his hand. He could not let the newspaper in his hand get stained, or else he would not be able to sell it.
"Young man … I want to buy a newspaper."
Fang Xian opened the door and saw a little kid holding a newspaper high in front of his door. He could not help but smile.
"Okay."
The paperboy quickly got up and patted the snow off his body.
Fang Xian handed over an iron coin and received a newspaper. He smiled and said, "Do you want to come in and have some hot tea?"
"I …"
Just as the paperboy was about to refuse, a cold wind blew past.
He shivered and bowed. "Thank you, kind sir!"
"You can call me Mr. Roca."
Fang Xian made an inviting gesture and went to the counter to make tea.
The paperboy raised his head and saw the signboard — Gothic Small Goods Shop.
Walking through the glass door, his vision was a little dim. There were rows of shelves in the shop, from confetti, sausages, sugar, toffees, hair clips, bows, and all kinds of cups, plates, and ornaments. They were all messily piled up on the shelves, giving the illusion that they would fall to the ground if one was not careful.
"Come, have a drink to warm your body."
Fang Xian smiled and handed over the teacup.
"Thank you … Mr. Roca, my name is Little Locke."
Locke held the cup with both hands and sipped from it, feeling his body warm up.
He let out a long breath and looked at the counter in front of Mr. Rocca.
This counter was separated by glass. Obviously, the goods inside were more expensive.
Mr. Roca had a smile on his face as he stood behind the counter. A weak light shone in through the window, giving off a sense of history and vicissitudes.
There seemed to be something wriggling in the shadows.
Locke quickly rubbed his eyes. He seemed to have seen a tentacle with suction cups just now.
However, when he looked again, there was nothing at all. It was just a mass of darkness.
"Little fella, you seem to be quite interested in my collection." At this moment, he heard Mr. Roca's words again.
"Yes."
Locke quickly lowered his head and pretended to look at the goods on the glass counter.
"Eh?"
He discovered that the products on the counter were indeed very different from those on the shelves.
There was a doll made of straw, a necklace strung together with an unknown beast's tooth, a black crystal ball, and a tray with a strange white bone claw base below …
In addition, there was a black cane made of unknown material and a few poorly-looking hard-shelled notebooks.
"This is a voodoo doll from the western nomads, a necklace of the king from the eastern land of sunrise, a divination crystal ball … The Nether Cane that can help people find money, but you have to be careful. A black spirit can appear at any time and scare you …"
Fang Xian introduced the items one by one. "Of course, my proudest items are still these books … One of them is my poetry collection!"
"Very … very good!" Locke instantly equated this Mr. Roca with the profiteers that he often saw peddling gadgets.
"How is it? Little fella … Today, my store's collection is on sale at a discount. "
Fang Xian looked at Little Locke and a strange smile appeared on his face.
…
Locke's head was a little dizzy. He only came back to his senses when he walked out of the store and was hit by the snowstorm.
"What … What did I do?"
He pressed his temples and felt a prickling pain.
As he kept pressing, some blurry memories surfaced.
He seemed, seemed, probably … to have been persuaded by Mr. Rocca to buy something?
He cried out in surprise and immediately touched his pocket.
When he found that only the iron coin he used to buy the newspaper was missing, he let out a long sigh of relief.
He could still afford to buy a newspaper.
"Eh?"
Little Locke touched his chest pocket and found that there was a notebook with a black cover that he didn't know when it had appeared.
He vaguely remembered that he bought the store owner's poetry collection at a super discounted price of one iron coin.
Locke opened the title page and wanted to see what the store owner had written. As a paperboy, he could still recognize some words.
However, he didn't expect a sense of dizziness to hit him as soon as he opened the notebook.
Hiss …
Rustle …
Locke's ears were ringing like a radio with a bad signal, receiving a lot of static.
His throat rolled and he felt like vomiting. He quickly closed the notebook.
Locke didn't dare to look at the notebook again, nor did he dare to look back. He quickly wrapped his body and rushed into the snowstorm.
…
"The choice of fate …"
Fang Xian crossed his arms. Watching this, the corner of his lips curled up into a smile.
He turned around, looked at the darkness, and casually opened a door.
The smell of blood assailed his nostrils.
In the center of the secret room was an iron dissection table. It was covered with solidified dark brown marks, as if it had a life of its own and was wailing.
This was a mutation that was born from being stained with the blood of too many mutated creatures.
On the surrounding wooden shelves, there were glass bottles with various organs in them.
For example, ghoul claws, scaly human lungs, hound eyes and so on …
This was some research based on Hopkin's records.
Until now, Fang Xian dared to say that he had completely understood all the knowledge left by Hopkin.
During this period of time, the church of the Lost God was also flourishing, but the believers' day and night calls had almost no effect on the silent robbery power.
This also made Fang Xian certain that if he continued to call slowly, he wouldn't be able to recover his strength within two years, let alone progress further.
When the end of the world came, the ancient rulers would descend or wake up. They might not pay attention to ordinary people, but with his status, there was a high chance that he would be noticed.
"Sure enough … that's the only way …"
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