From the Ship of Fools to Earl of Wugang

The Order has accounts in multiple banks in Veridiah, the Moral Union, and Orichalcos, totaling nearly five million Garuda gold coins.

Converted to secular currency, that's a figure that would make any ordinary person dizzy. It's perfectly normal for a transnational cult to be somewhat apprehensive about him, given that it's enough to warrant such a massive manhunt.

The train's jolting caused Edmund's thoughts to gradually become scattered.

He recalled the feeling of sitting alone in a taxi through an empty city late at night after working overtime in his previous life—exhaustion, loneliness, and the thought that there would never be enough work to do in the future.

The difference is that he is now doing high-risk, high-return business.

Edmund shook his head and drew the curtains.

The sound of wheels rolling over the rails continued in the darkness, and after an unknown amount of time, he fell into a deep sleep in this monotonous, wordless rhythm.

The next morning, a long, drawn-out whistle woke Edmund.

He opened his eyes and saw the gray-blue morning light filtering through the moisture from the coastal area, filtering in through the gaps in the curtains.

The train was slowing down, and Edmund rolled off the upper bunk, stretching his stiff neck.

He and a few other passengers were left in the entire carriage, and the scenery outside the window had completely changed.

Low hills and plains replaced the darkness of last night, and gray-green vegetation appeared and disappeared in the morning mist.

In the distance lies a dense cluster of buildings with red bricks, gray tiles, chimneys, and towering spires; further still lies the sea—Flamingo City is built along the coast, with the northern edge of the city extending parallel to the coastline.

The train slowly pulled into Flamingo City train station.

Edmund carried his luggage out of the station gate, greeted by the moist and salty sea breeze, with the cries of seagulls coming and going.

Edmund climbed into a mint green vintage taxi at the station entrance.

The quiet and bright morning in Flamingo was quieter than Edmund had imagined.

The taxi drove along the coastal road for a short distance before turning into the city center. The streets were lined with mostly three- or four-story townhouses, with various green plants growing on the cast-iron balconies bathed in sunlight and breeze, and all sorts of small shops on the ground floor.

This city has a completely different feel from Gulfstream. Flamingo is like an old sailor who has spent his whole life watching ships come and go at the docks, wearing an old wool coat.

The taxi stopped beside a cobblestone street in the Silver Lake district. Edmund got out and looked around.

The reason why Yinhu District is called Yinhu District is because there is indeed a small lake here, or more accurately, a saltwater lagoon connected to the sea.

The lake surface shimmered with a silvery-gray luster in the morning light, and the willows along the shore drooped their branches, gently swaying the water's surface in the breeze.

The north shore of the lake is a cluster of old-fashioned three-story brick and stone buildings, with most of the ground floors housing cafes, bookstores, and handicraft shops.

Edmund walked east along the lakeside sidewalk for about five minutes and stopped in front of a building whose exterior was covered with ivy.

Above the door hangs a bronze plaque engraved with the words "Golden Bird". Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, one can see the warm lighting inside and several scattered tables and chairs.

Edmund pushed open the door, stepping into the café's soft, warm light from the grey-blue morning light outside.

The air here is filled with the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans, mixed with the sweetness of cinnamon and butter.

An old-fashioned record player was spinning in the corner, playing a lazy jazz tune.

There weren't many customers in the store at that time, so he went straight to the bar.

Behind the counter stood a female shop assistant in her early twenties, exuding a natural and sunny charm.

Good morning, sir. What do you need?

Edmund responded with a smile to the sun-kissed, healthy tan: "Do you have 'sweet pumpkin coffee'?"

The young female shop assistant's smile revealed more surprise, but Edmund sensed that she was looking him up and down.

Then her smile switched from "professional" to "personal".

"Come with me."

She came out from behind the bar, gestured for Edmund to follow, and then went through an inconspicuous narrow door at the back of the café.

Behind the door is a wooden staircase leading up to the second floor, where the space suddenly opens up.

This is a more private space than downstairs, probably converted from the original attic. Two dormer windows open into the sloping ceiling, through which you can see a corner of Silver Lake and the gray-blue sea in the distance.

There was a set of leather sofa booths by the window, with a steaming cup of coffee and several open magazines on the coffee table in the middle, and some kind of pop music playing from the radio next to it.

Sitting on the sofa was a woman who looked to be in her early twenties—her face was upright, her short, dark brown hair was neatly tucked behind her ears, and her jawline gave her a decisive impression.

Edmund's overall demeanor reminded him of a female police officer in an American TV series, and a good one at that.

She was wearing a light gray crew neck sweater, and a copy of "Computer Systems and Network Security Quarterly" was spread out on her lap.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she looked up, and her brown eyes, the same color as the shop assistant downstairs but with a completely different temperament, calmly fell on Edmund.

After confirming the visitor's identity, the woman nodded slightly, gesturing for him to sit down.

The female clerk whispered "The coffee will be served right away" at the top of the stairs and then went downstairs.

Edmund sat down on the sofa opposite him. The other man turned off the radio, closed the magazine on his lap, and got straight to the point.

"Hello, you must be 'Eye of the Storm', right?"

Speaking slowly and clearly—this is a style of speaking that belongs to people who need to maintain efficiency in communication over a long period of time.

Edmund nodded: "'Evan Black,' you can call me Evan or Black."

The other person seemed to smile with satisfaction at the answer: "I am 'Pure Golden Light,' and my name is Rebecca Young."

She reached out and picked up her coffee cup from the coffee table, took a sip, and then put it down again.

"We've been chatting about technology online for so long, and I was surprised to find you're surprisingly young."

The morning sunlight slanted in through the window, making the jazz music from the record player sound even more hazy after being filtered through a floor.

Edmund shrugged. "That's the romance of the internet. On the internet, nobody knows you're a dog."

The woman's smile widened: "Well said. However, the skill and judgment demonstrated by 'Eye of the Storm' on the golden dome truly impressed me."

"Thanks."

The female clerk then came up the stairs with another cup of coffee and a croissant, placed them quietly in front of Edmund, and then went back down.

Edmund picked up his coffee—it smelled like a latte, but with a hint of pumpkin spice.

"Although it's not on the menu, we do have creamy pumpkin coffee."

After Rebecca explained, her attention returned to the main topic.

"In your private message, you mentioned wanting to discuss a batch of equipment. Does this mean that we should start setting up the servers we planned earlier?"