Navigator: I Have a Legendary Exploration Log

Night falls.

The hustle and bustle of Maro Island did not subside with the sleep of some people; instead, it boiled over completely under the cool sea breeze.

At night.

The misty fog thickened.

The dim streetlights were hidden in the mist, only revealing faint halos of light.

The intricate network of streets and alleys, with their interplay of light and shadow, makes the swaying figures in quieter areas seem like a haunted scene.

Chalice turned up the collar of his trench coat, put his hands in his pockets, and disappeared into the shadows of Maro Island like a ghost.

With his exceptional perception.

Chalice keenly noticed groups of menacing gang members roaming the streets.

He didn't want to cause trouble, so he deliberately chose a quiet alley.

There were no predictable surprises.

Although he occasionally heard a few muffled gunshots, they had nothing to do with him.

When passing by a street corner.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cheryl caught a glimpse of a group of shirtless thugs with various dog head tattoos on their chests surrounding several corpses.

These obvious, almost ostentatious features immediately confirmed Chalice's identity.

"Hyena Party..."

Chalice narrowed his eyes, the image of Thomas's elegant yet sinister face flashing through his mind.

It seems that what this trusted lieutenant of the Corleone family said was true.

The Hyena Gang, a pack of mad dogs from elsewhere, is tearing apart the underground order of Maro Island.

The bloody upheaval in the underworld is happening much faster than I imagined; it may already be imminent, just waiting for a trigger to erupt!

That makes sense...

As a long-established power, how could the Corleone family not have arms reserves?

Sharpening your spear at the last minute is not the same as searching for a weapon at the last minute.

But the reality is that they have already contacted the Blood Hands Gang, which is far away on Simon Island, to expedite the delivery of weapons, so the situation may be even more serious!

However, none of this concerns Chalice.

He concealed himself in the shadows of the eaves and bypassed the hyena gang thugs who were venting their anger.

Not far away.

A group of local gang members carrying short axes and machetes were rushing over.

Less than a minute.

The alley was filled with curses, shouts, and screams.

Chalice didn't look back, focusing solely on walking towards his destination...

……

The noisy voices of people gradually filled my ears.

Chalice stepped out of the alley through the thin mist.

Not far away, the sign for "One-Eyed Siren" was flashing with dazzling lights.

The plaque next to it reads 13 Baker Street.

That's right.

That secret underground trading meeting was actually disguised as the most popular and busiest pub on Baker Street.

As Cherries ascended the steps, the sounds of wine glasses slamming on tables and the sailors' varied shouts became the main melody.

Interspersed among the music was the lively sound of an accordion, and voluptuous women with slits up to their waists danced wildly around the tavern to the music. Their white thighs were frequently glimpsed between the rising and falling hems of their skirts, and the spring scenery flowed freely. Their charming style stirred the men's most primal desires...

Chalice pushed away the hostess who was holding a wine tray and pressing her pert breasts against his arm.

He walked straight through the noisy hall to the innermost bar.

"A glass of 'Drowner', no ice, with three drops of honey. I love the sweet, intoxicating feeling."

Chalice tapped the table, the rhythm of three short taps followed by three long taps causing the bartender wiping the table to pause slightly.

The person who came was a stranger.

The bartender smiled and politely declined, saying, "Sir, there's a quota for drowning victims, unless you are..."

bang-

The bartender's eyes narrowed.

Because Chalice had subtly placed a badge on the table.

"So he's a fearless captain..."

The bartender's lips curled into a knowing smile.

"Excuse my intrusion, please follow me. What you're looking for is in the cellar; you can't get it here."

Cheryl put away her badge and followed the bartender toward an inconspicuous little door next to the bar.

The two descended a spiral stone staircase step by step.

As they descended deeper underground, the revelry on the surface was completely shut out by the thick stone walls.

The smell of cheap alcohol in the air was gradually replaced by preservatives, the smell of the sea, and a faint smell of blood.

The steps finally disappeared.

Instead, a door was installed.

Several stacks of masks were placed next to it.

"Captain, I suggest you conceal your identity to avoid causing unnecessary trouble."

In this regard.

Of course, Chalice wouldn't refuse.

As the bartender pushed open the heavy iron-clad wooden door, a bizarre and fantastical underground world unfolded in the dim green light of the gas lamps.

There is no brightness and order in the trading hall here, only naked desire and gloom.

The bartender closed the door behind him.

The narrow underground corridor was divided into cramped stalls, and the buyers moving through it all wore disguises.

Some people wore the bird-beak mask of a plague doctor; some wore rough burlap sacks; and some simply appeared in human form, but who knew that this was not some kind of disguise?

"New guest, remember the rules here."

A waiter in a tuxedo wearing a clown mask handed over a black metal plaque, his voice extremely cold and devoid of any warmth.

"No questions asked, money and goods settled. Once you're out this door, even if you're chopped up and fed to the fish, don't expect anyone to collect your corpse."

Chalice took the iron plaque.

He activated his spiritual perception, only to find that the spiritual atmosphere here was in complete chaos.

The fluctuations emitted by various strange objects intertwined, like a pot of boiling fish offal soup, with the good and the bad all mixed together and indistinguishable.

This instantly put him on high alert.

Chalice slowly walked into the market, and the scene before him completely overturned the civilized bottom line of the official trading house.

The stalls on the left.

Several luxurious silk shirts stained with dark red blood were carelessly discarded in a wooden crate, next to which were a few pure gold buttons bearing the emblem of a governor's mansion.

This is blatant selling of stolen goods; the seller didn't even bother to hide its origin.

The display case on the right.

The specimen soaking in the preservative solution was not an ordinary specimen, but a deformed heart that was still beating slightly, its surface covered with a ghostly blue spiritual glow.

The stall owner was tapping on the glass with his fingers, boasting to passing buyers about the "underwater breathing" ability this contraband item could provide, but he didn't mention a word about the side effects.

There are also some very simple stalls on both sides of the corridor.

There were only wooden signs indicating intelligence categories and intelligence brokers waiting for business to come to them.

Occasionally, some transactions are taking place.

Chalice naturally overheard their conversation.

no way.

That's how sensitive extraordinary perception is.

Charys' keen hearing picked up bloody information that could trigger a gang war, such as "the shift change time of Locke Gang Warehouse No. 3" and "the address of the mistress of a certain Hyena Gang leader." There was even someone openly selling the architectural blueprints of a governor's mansion.

In this lawless underworld, morality and law are crushed into dust, and only gold coins and power are the only passports.

Chalice gripped the revolver in his pocket, his eyes scanning the hidden corners like a hawk's, searching for the mysterious seller who might be hiding the "Gourmet's" Tier 2 recipe.

or.

He could post bounties like in a trading hall...