abnormal mutation

Chapter 28 Ambition Can Be Cultivated
Star-patterned amber can be used to store spiritual glimmers, but only extraordinary individuals can retrieve it. There's no going back; whether it succeeds or not, it's a sunk cost.

This star-patterned amber pendant is now worth at least forty or fifty German dollars. Roland would be heartbroken if he threw it away or gave it away, and he didn't know how much value an ordinary person could bring him.

Pawning it is also not an option, because it might remain unsold for a long time, forcing the item to stay locked in a cabinet. The best solution, of course, is to sell it, but wealthy people are very cautious, and revealing their identity is unavoidable.

"Give it away, don't sell it; you can't catch a wolf without risking your cub."

He carefully packed all his belongings, put on a hat and mask, and tucked his conspicuous hair into the mirror, trying his best not to be recognized. Law enforcement officers were on duty at night; it was easier during the day.

"I won't be back for lunch, don't wait for me," he said, and hurriedly left.

Perhaps driven by selfishness, he didn't choose someone close to him or someone he knew, because he didn't know how risky the situation was. He admitted that he was selfish; tragedy could happen, but he couldn't let it happen to him.

The selection of the recipients is also important. Poor people will either sell the money or report it to the police. Powerful people know the extraordinary dangers, and extraordinary people are difficult to control. It is best to find young people who are well-fed and healthy, preferably from other places.

Taipei has the most out-of-towners, with hunters and merchants clustered there, but it's too close to Rose Cross. Besides here, Roland also thought of another place: the White Bear Labor Company, where most of those lured to the mines were out-of-towners.

There weren't many people on the street. He wore his fur coat inside out, bowed his head, bent over, and shivered as he headed towards the east gate. Many people looked like this, and no one paid any attention to him.

The town has ten gates, each with an official number, numbered counterclockwise from the east gate: the east gate is gate number one, the north gate is gate number four, and the west gate is gate number seven. However, people are used to calling them by their directions rather than by their numbers.

Outside the East Gate lay a vast snowfield. He walked north along the low wall, slowly making his way to the Northeast Gate No. 2.

Stepping through the side gate, there is a small open space in front of you. Dozens of meters away, there is a large two-story wooden building with a sign for the White Bear Labor Service Company on the wall. A dozen sleds are parked in the wooden shed at the entrance.

They're all old rivals and know each other well. The office of the Wooden Building White Bear Labor Service Company is located here, but White Bear doesn't live here. The low-rise buildings behind the wooden building are the dormitories for the "managers."

With no one around, Roland was on high alert. He pretended to be a passerby, keeping his head down and hurrying along. After passing the wooden building, he slowed down, then squatted down and pretended to tie his shoelaces, while simultaneously using all his senses to observe the dormitory.

Everything seemed normal. After getting up, he turned and entered the alley between the dormitories, as if he were taking a shortcut.

As he passed the dormitory building in the far corner, his hand trembled, and the pendant traced an arc in the air before landing at the doorway. The amber shimmered faintly in the sunlight; anyone who got close would notice it.

He had observed shadowy figures moving behind the dormitory window, most likely White Bear's henchmen. White Bear had a bad reputation; ordinary people wouldn't wander around there.

After turning the corner, Roland continued forward, grabbed a quick bite at Lucky Whitebeard's stall, and then leisurely strolled home.

Evan and his friends had just finished eating, which, unsurprisingly, consisted of bread and soup. Roland counted out 5 German dollars from his wallet and gave them to Evan as payment for their meal and as start-up capital.

"Don't eat bread all the time, or you won't grow tall."

The group just chuckled foolishly. Ice River Town was too remote, limiting the teenagers' horizons and giving them little ambition.

…………

As night fell, the crimson moons hung high in the sky, changing the colors of Ice River Town and the vast snowfield.

Private booth number 17 in the VIP area's hot spring bath.

There was a small hot spring in the room, shaped like a flower petal, bubbling and steaming, creating a very picturesque atmosphere.

In the center of the spring stood a stone table, a foot above the water, laden with food: milk, coffee, roast meat, honey bread… and two plates of fruit, one red and one green, glistening and tempting in color—food the commoners of Ice River Town could never afford. At that moment, a large, brown-skinned fat man lay half-reclined in the spring, greedily devouring the fruit. He had small eyes, a large mouth, and a flat nose; his appearance was unsightly, and his eating manners even more so.

Two people stood in the mist beside the hot spring. The man by the door was tall and strong, wearing a thick leather jacket, with a gray beard tied into a small braid, and his reddish skin was covered with beads of sweat.

The man on the inner side was of medium height, very thin, with light brown skin, thick lips, and a slightly hunched back, holding a document in his hand.

"Boss, one of our brothers saw Roland go to the Rose Cross Pharmacy again. Should we send someone to keep an eye on him for a few days?" The speaker was a thin man.

"Ptooey—" A chunk of chewed-up fruit peel landed precisely on the man's nose, and sticky liquid dripped down the tip of his nose.

"Didn't I tell you to stop staring?" The fat man grinned, showing his yellow teeth, looking very angry.

"No... I didn't follow them. The guy in charge of Taipei just happened to see them..." The thin man hung his head, letting the rotten fruit peel stick to his face.

"Third brother, do you know how much trouble you've caused me?" The fat man squinted his small eyes and stared at the thin man with a sinister look. "I've worked so hard for so many years, and now I've become the target of everyone's criticism because of a worthless medal."

“Nobody knows…” the thin man stammered, “I was trying to help you. The law enforcement officers are unyielding, and I wanted to infiltrate their ranks.”

With a splash, the fat man angrily slammed his fist into the water, splashing water all over the two people next to him. He then shouted angrily, "Don't think I don't know what you're thinking. Let me tell you, Feifan is just bait. Even if you manage to get in, you won't get a share."

No one dared to speak again, and the room fell silent instantly.

"Keep this to yourself, and don't mention it to anyone again." The fat man started eating again, his cheeks puffed out, and his voice was muffled. "The focus now is on the winter hunt; let's not cause any more trouble."

"Yes, boss is wise," the thin man flattered, as if nothing had happened. "But those hunters are too greedy, and the local hunters have bad tempers, so the progress is not ideal."

"Not enough money?" The fat man glanced at him sideways.

"Yes." The thin man nodded, forcing a smile.

“I’ll give you another five hundred.” The fat man’s face turned cold. “Old Eight’s guides and supplies are all arranged. You’re always the one holding him back. Snowfield intelligence is very important. There can’t be any omissions. Habitat, activity routes, weaknesses, medicine… you can’t miss any of them. You know the consequences if you don’t do it right.”

The thin man shuddered, and the rotten fruit peel fell off and landed on his shoe: "Don't worry, boss, I definitely won't let you down."

“We’re from the same hometown. I brought you out here, so I have a responsibility to bring you back. But if things don’t go well, we’ll just have to stay in this godforsaken place. This opportunity is very rare…” The fat man’s tone softened, and he started to play the emotional card.

After a few words, the thin man's emotions visibly intensified, and he nodded repeatedly. The burly man beside him lowered his head, his eyes filled with hatred.

"Alright, everyone go back and rest." The fat man pulled a stamp out of his clothes, breathed on it, and stamped it on the document the thin man handed him.

"Yes."

Watching his subordinate leave, the fat man fell silent, his thick, radish-like fingers lightly tapping the table.

"I thought he was just a weed, but I never expected his network to be so intricate. The Northerners' thoughts are truly unfathomable..."

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(End of this chapter)