From the Ship of Fools to Earl of Wugang

Edmund held the dagger for a moment.

The presence of the Yuanqian Church in Eagle Harbor is not entirely surprising.

This city is an important port on the northern shipping route, and its atmosphere is the kind that various underground organizations like to operate in.

What's truly noteworthy is why this dagger was stuffed into a seashell and displayed in a public market for people to choose blindly.

Even the worst ritual dagger contains supernatural elements. When the cult is in normal operation, such items are usually distributed, registered and destroyed in a centralized manner. But now it is only worth the price of a seashell blind box.

The religious groups in Eagle Harbor are mostly in trouble; at the very least, they are short of money.

But is this a good thing for him? After all, he played a huge role in this.

After Edmund finished thinking, he tucked the dagger into his belt, deliberately leaving a section of the hilt sticking out from under his coat.

He returned to the market and casually strolled around the stalls before arriving at the counterfeit document stall that he had noticed earlier.

The stall owner wore thick-lensed glasses perched on his nose. Several blank certificates, seals, and shipping company invoice samples were laid out in front of him, surrounded by piles of wooden crates.

"How much for the documents?" Edmund asked.

The stall owner looked him up and down: "It depends on what you want. Items that look good are cheap, complete identification is expensive, and items with passports and birth records are even more expensive."

"Can it withstand scrutiny?"

"It can withstand a check by an ordinary police officer."

"What if you encounter something unusual?"

The stall owner adjusted his glasses: "If you encounter someone unusual, you'd better not show any identification; running away is the best option."

The answer was realistic. Just as Edmund was about to continue asking for prices, the canvas behind the stall owner suddenly opened.

A tall, thin man in a brown jacket emerged from behind a pile of clutter, carrying a stack of blank tickets.

He seemed to have just finished organizing the goods behind him, and after putting the receipts into the wooden crate, he looked up, his gaze just sweeping over Edmund's waist.

The man's gaze lingered on the golden hilt of the sword, and Edmund's eyes did not miss the momentary surprise; the familiar glowing characters immediately appeared.

Desmond Corbin, a qualified member of the "Path of the Dead," is an external liaison for the Abyss Order, responsible for forging identities, temporary residences, and shipping documents in the Eagle Harbor area. Recently facing financial difficulties due to a funding shortage, he is selling off some of his unused resources.

They actually delivered themselves to our door.

Edmund's expression remained unchanged. He continued to discuss prices with the stall owner, and after hearing the price for a complete identity, he shook his head as if it were too expensive, then turned and left.

He didn't turn around, but he could feel a gaze lingering behind him.

Edmund continued to stroll through the market, giving Corbyn ample time to observe.

He stopped at several stalls selling ceremonial materials and asked around before finally pulling out the dagger and handing it to an old woman selling marine life materials.

Have you ever seen something like this before?

The old woman took the dagger, glanced at it, and touched the almost worn-down fish-shaped mark at the bottom of the hilt with her fingers.

"That's coastal sect stuff."

"So, which specific sect is it?"

The old woman raised her eyelids: "Young man, curiosity is expensive here."

Edmund pulled out a banknote and placed it on the stall.

The old woman then lowered her voice and said, "It's a religious order from the sea. That's why they like to coat their knives with fish oil and then use them to cut the offerings."

As the old woman handed the dagger back, a voice came from the side just as Edmund reached out to take it.

"This thing is useless to you."

Corbyn walked over to the stall. He glanced at the old woman first, who immediately lowered her head to organize her goods, indicating that she had no intention of continuing to participate.

Corbyn's gaze fell on the dagger: "How much did you pay for it?"

Edmund quoted a price.

"I can give you an extra 20%."

"Twenty percent?" Edmund sheathed the dagger back in his belt. "Looks like it's worth more than I thought."

"Someone just asked me to recycle similar items," Corbyn said. "I don't want it to fall into the hands of someone who doesn't know what they're doing."

"Who would ask you to recycle their goods?"

"This is none of your business." Corbyn's eyes remained fixed on Edmund's expression.

This was a test, and Edmund did not try to negotiate with him.

"E-17-6419".

Corbin's wary expression suddenly froze as the other party produced the financial number of the ritual equipment previously issued by the External Affairs Department of the Abyss Order for reimbursement.

The letters represent foreign affairs expenditures, 17 represents the judicial district to which Eagle Port belongs, and the last four digits correspond to "unexpected damage to low-level sacrificial artifacts".

Each time the outer liaison points submitted their accounts, they had to attach this string of numbers to the loss report. Corbyn, who relied on government funding to maintain the liaison points, couldn't possibly have failed to recognize it.

"you……"

"Who gave you permission to sell registered ritual objects on the open black market?" Edmund interrupted him, his tone deliberately impatient.

"The Ministry of Foreign Affairs has left behind enough mess over the years. If Eagle Harbor can't even manage the most basic supplies properly, I have serious doubts about your competence."

Corbyn glanced left and right instinctively: "Sir, I didn't know you were...."

"You don't need to know." Edmund brandished the dagger in his hand. "I'm in charge of checking the mess left by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. You just need to tell me how much you sold in Eagle Harbor."

Corbyn's face turned ugly.

He had never seen Edmund's face like this before, but the order was already in a state of confusion, with upper-level members often operating under false identities, and many in the external affairs department never appearing in public gatherings.

Accurate account numbers are far more trustworthy than faces. The young man before him had indeed revealed quite a bit of inside information, and even directly questioned him about the very thing that made him most guilty.

After a few seconds of silence, Corbyn had to soften his tone: "This isn't the place to talk. Please come with me to the nearby contact point; the ledgers and records are there."

Edmund frowned. "How much further?"

"It's not far, ten minutes."

"Then let's go. You'd better have a reasonable explanation."

The two left Tidal Night one after the other and entered the port area through the exit on the other side of the warehouse area.

Corbyn walked quickly, changing direction several times along the way, passing through two narrow back alleys and a field piled with empty fish boxes.

Edmund's intuition about the surrounding streets and alleys gradually formed a clear outline in his mind. He was certain that Corbin was not leading him in circles, and he could also sense that there were no pursuers behind them.

Corbyn did not secretly inform his accomplices, which greatly benefited his subsequent plans.

About ten minutes later, the two arrived at an abandoned fish processing plant.

Most of the windows on the first floor of the factory were boarded up, and only a few rusty frames remained of the original facade. Corbin used a key to open the side door and led Edmund up the stairs to the second floor.

Pushing open a door at the far end, you enter what used to be the factory's meeting room. The walls are covered in thick cork, the window frames and door seams have been refinished, and several faded blue lines connect along the corners in a simple array.

Edmund activated his spiritual perception and immediately sensed the faint spiritual fluctuations.

【The Secret Ritual: The Sound Recording Room】

[The ritual instrument, constructed using cork, fish glue, and sound-absorbing symbols, weakens the propagation of sound from within the room. Its crude structure cannot block high-energy spiritual fluctuations.]

Corbyn explained, "Please rest assured, soundproofing has been implemented here, so you can talk without worry."

Edmund walked into the room and chose a chair that faced the door.

"Bring out the ledgers, receipts, and records. I'm curious how Mr. Gerard taught you all."