Unable to repay my student loans, I had no choice but to work part-time as a demon hunter.

Chapter 88 Gordon's Morning

Gordon didn't sleep all night.

The morning light dimly illuminated the room, illuminating coats flying everywhere and shoes kicked against the door.

Obviously, the larger the car, the more stable it is to drive. This is because large vehicles have a longer wheelbase and are heavier, resulting in a strong sense of ground contact when driving at high speeds, and providing a more sophisticated and stable driving experience.

"What if—what should I do? There are so many things I'm not prepared for—" Vera covered her burning forehead with her arm.

"No, I used the current manipulation to intercept them all; not a single one will be allowed to come ashore."

"Golden————"

"You didn't call me that last night."

"You've got it wrong."

Vera covered her face with both hands, clearly not wanting to recall the memory, or rather, the memory made her feel unwell.

Gordon rested his hands under his head, looking at the ceiling with a good mood.

There were traces of splashes on it.

[The ceiling. I never imagined I'd be shot at.]

It's incredible.

That's truly happiness.

It seems that there are indeed things in the world that bring more joy than gold pounds.

"—Get some rest, I'm going out in a bit."

"What are you doing?" Vera asked in a muffled voice.

"Blackthorn Lee's cane needs repairing, we need to buy more furniture for the house, and we also need to settle accounts with Gray. Besides that, I'm thinking of ordering you a piece of armor. What do you think?"

"It can't be too heavy. It can't hinder the fight. It can't be noisy."

"Okay. If there's still money left after I finish all that, I'll contact the Elizabethan Charitable Foundation to pay off my student loans."

Vera was too weak to reply and quickly fell asleep again, her breathing becoming long and deep.

Gordon wanted to go out now, but as soon as he sat up, he felt his sides sink down.

Clearly, the two unfortunate organs were reminding him that what he had used, though not money, still had to be repaid.

He remained seated for two seconds, carefully assessing his physical condition to determine if it was suitable for him to go out.

Finally, Gordon leaned back, closed his eyes, and shut down completely.

Gordon didn't get up until noon.

The city outside had returned to its bustling state; carriages passed through the streets, and the church bells rang twelve times at noon, each chime a reminder to Gordon that it was time to go out and spend some money.

Vera was still fast asleep.

Gordon kissed her forehead.

Her injuries were clearly not fully healed, and her previous actions did not conform to the principles of rehabilitation medicine, which emphasize "regular routines and avoiding strenuous exercise."

But Gordon felt that her mental state had improved, she was obviously in a much better mood, and probably didn't have nightmares anymore.

He tiptoed around, tidying himself up and making sure every button was on.

Look around.

Gordon needs to furnish the place as soon as possible.

The only piece of furniture in the bedroom was broken; the bedposts had collapsed and the frame was crumbling.

If they don't replenish the furniture with high-quality materials as soon as possible, they will have to explore the unknown on wooden floors next time, and there is also the risk of falling to the first floor.

He quickly washed up and looked up at himself in the mirror.

The scar on his face was a faint red mark on his right cheek. It didn't damage his features, but it made him look less youthful and more dangerous.

Very good.

He left Vera enough food and then went out.

Go downstairs to check the mailbox.

The room was stuffed with newspapers and flyers. Gordon was looking for a letter that Eve might have sent, but there was none, and he didn't know if she had even arrived in Lundnim.

At the top is an imperial document, which Gordon examines.

"As per procedure, the department has delivered the horse. It is currently being held at Fuller Stables at the intersection of Knightsway and Scholarsway. Please present a valid badge to collect it."

Gordon nodded in satisfaction; it seemed the Empire's civil service system was functioning relatively smoothly.

-

He went to a café on Knights Road, had a refreshing coffee and some smoked bread to recharge, and then went to get his horse.

Fuller Stables is a five-minute walk from 9 Knightsway, built in an alleyway, requiring a turn to get in.

Inside was a wide aisle, where coachmen, grooms, and gentlemen fetching horses were all busy with their own tasks.

Public stables were very common in Rundnim, as many people owned horses but lacked housing to house them. Thus, stables came into being to serve as a means of transport for the citizens.

Gordon showed his badge, and the stable manager looked enlightened.

"You must be the famous Gordon Vick? The soldier who delivered the horse mentioned you."

"No one has impersonated you yet."

"Your horse was delivered from the military horse farm this morning, and I must say, it's a big, irritable fellow."

17

"No problem. A docile horse is only suitable for pulling a carriage, not for leading me out of the encirclement."

As the two walked in, chatting, Gordon saw the mount that the empire had provided for him.

A tall, black horse.

It was truly a beast—huge and handsome.

It has broad shoulders and a very tall stature, long and sturdy limbs, a neatly trimmed mane, and bright, black eyes that seem to be ready to randomly kick away any unlucky person who gets too close.

Gao Deng focused his mind slightly.

The horse was breathing loudly and beating strongly; it was in excellent health and had no hidden injuries. The Empire had shown him exceptional care this time, clearly not trying to fool him with some old horse nearing retirement.

Gordon immediately took a liking to it.

Upon seeing Gordon, it let out a loud neigh. Several ordinary horses nearby quieted down, showing respect for the strongman.

"Its registration at the military horse farm is Warhorse No. 1036. It is very intelligent and brave, perhaps too brave. It has been trained and will not be scared away by the demons like ordinary animals; instead, it may charge at them."

"I can tell."

"But you'd better give it a name. Number 1036 is only suitable for writing in a notebook. Calling it in the wilderness is a bit of a hassle, like looking for a lost servant," said the stable master.

Gordon and Dark Horse stared at each other for a moment.

He felt—

A strong and direct spirit.

It broke through the fence, trampled the streets, and crashed into the unknown and terror. A sense of anger and violence welled up within it.

"Furious." Gordon stated his thoughts on the horse.

"What?"

"It's called Wrath." Gordon stretched out his hand.

He snorted angrily and shook his head.

Gordon reached out his hand.

It stared at Gordon, seemingly assessing whether the two-legged creature was worthy of it. Gordon did not flinch, calmly meeting the gaze of the horse, which was far taller than him.

After a long while, Zhen Nu finally lowered his head, pressed his heavy nose against his palm, and exhaled puffs of hot air.

The stableman handed over a handful of oats, which Gordon fed to it. Zhen Neng chewed a few bites, and its attitude towards Gordon immediately improved.

The relationship between humans and animals often falls short by just one bite.

The stable manager checked the accounts with Gordon.

Gordon can leave his horses here. When he is too busy to manage them, they will brush the fur of the Furious twice a day, provide oats, fine hay and beans, and check the quality of the horseshoes twice a month. The related expenses are 16 silver pounds per month, paid by the Empire.

He felt even better after hearing this.

This meant he was earning 16 silver pounds a month from the Empire, making his trainee investigator status feel increasingly valuable.

Of course, this also means that the agency tacitly agrees that he will continue to handle those dangerous tasks.

The groom fitted the saddle to Wrath; the saddlebridge was high, with a saddle strap on the left and a set of leather buckles on the right. Gordon held his hunting knife...

The sampling box and the pistol were both packed inside.

Gordon stepped into the stirrups and mounted the horse.

The moves Charlotte taught him yesterday are still very new to him.

In just 24 hours, he rode at least three different things. It's incredible how interesting life can be sometimes.

"Walk."

Enraged, he strode forward and onto the street.

When people saw this muscular and beautiful warhorse, they all gave way, and oncoming carriages also changed their angle.

Gordon understood why Gray placed so much importance on the comedic effect of his entrances and exits.

The awe-inspiring radiance of a person can sometimes bring a sense of comfort.

Gordon rode his horse to Aston Street and ordered a double bed with an ironwood frame from the long-established "Aronson & Son" furniture store.

He made a point of checking to ensure the bedposts were made of cast iron as thick as a thumb and that the bed frame had sufficient support underneath. Afterwards, he purchased a leather sofa, desk, filing cabinet, bedside table, wardrobe, and dining table and chairs. The total cost was 8 gold pounds.

"You want such a sturdy bed?" the shopkeeper exclaimed in surprise. "Where are you staying? Earthquakes are unlikely to occur in Lundnim."

"Not necessarily. Sometimes it can cause earthquakes, the sky to fall, and the earth to collapse." Gordon thought for a moment, "The sofa needs to be reinforced too."

The shop owner noted down Gordon's requirements.

These pieces of furniture will soon be delivered to No. 9 Knightsway, transforming the empty house into a beautiful home. This will give Gordon and Vera a place to eat and rest, space to store their belongings, and make No. 9 Knightsway feel like home.

Of course, you can also enjoy it more.

After placing the order, he went to the Sinclair Spiritual Workshop on Clock Tower Street.

-

Gordon pushed open the door and was greeted by the high-pitched sound of metal cutting. Sinclair was working in the inner room, polishing tools with a steam-powered light lathe.

"Mr. Sinclair," Gordon greeted him.

"Mr. Vic." Sinclair turned around immediately upon hearing the voice, turned off the equipment, and took off his goggles. "How is it? Is everything going smoothly? I saw the newspaper."

"So you're saying I provided crucial support?"

"Key support means things will be terrible without you." Sinclair was convinced by the newspaper's contents. "Crushing the criminal gang, killing the Dragon Lizard Demon, incredible. Gordon. The Dragon Lizard Demon's scales have already entered the military market."

"That happens often."

Sinclair looked him up and down.

The last time we met, Gordon was a college student who came to order an artificial womb with strange blueprints.

Now he wears the badge of the agency, has a scar on his face, and has made a name for himself; he has clearly accomplished in a few months what others take years to achieve.

Did the "Cradle of Life" program help?

"It was a great help; without it, the whole plan could not have been completed."

"Could you explain exactly how it helped? What did it produce?"

The true purpose of that machine had been troubling him for a long time.

Sinclair suspected it was a teaching tool, a pressure cooker, or a stirring machine, but he didn't know how it could possibly be used to subjugate cultists.

"Lycodon," Gordon thought for a moment, "though it only survived for 14 minutes."

Sinclair will spend a long time thinking about this conversation.

Gordon took out the broken Blackthorn Lee cane.

"Could you take a look at this for me?"

"What happened?"

"A house attacked me. I'm still alive, but it isn't; it's trapped underneath."

“Your experience is clearly extraordinary—” Sinclair examined the craftsmanship of the walking stick, “but to be fair—it’s been worn down considerably.”

"How could this be?" Gordon exclaimed in shock. "I cherish it dearly."

Sinclair pulled out the silver wire that had been burned and deformed inside.

"It seems to have been subjected to a fairly large and frequent surge of source energy."

Gordon stared silently at the silver threads that had been twisted into pretzels.

It really is.

Because he kept tapping around with his cane, wear and tear was inevitable. He tapped the ground, the mud, and the walls.

He had a good time, but his cane suffered.

Furthermore, as his source energy abilities grew stronger, his original cane was no longer sufficient. Even if it didn't break during this collapse, the silver threads themselves wouldn't last long.

"Can it be repaired?"

"Yes, this seems to be an old design from Hermes Academy. I know about it."

"What is that?"

"An organization that studies astrology and ancient symbols. I can restore it to 80-90%, but I can't break through the original design limits." Sinclair fixed the broken staff to the testing table.

"It's alright, I don't just want it back to normal. I have other needs." Gordon thought for a moment, "—First, it needs to be stronger and more durable. Second, it needs to withstand a greater flux of source matter. Third, I want to turn it into a fishing rod."

What are you planning to fish for?

"No decision yet."

"I saw the report, the Fishing King?"

"If there's a chance."

"And then you take his place? Become the second-generation fishing king?" Sinclair's imagination had already run to the Blackwater River, where he saw Gordon cast a line, fish out the former master from the water, and sell him by weight.

"It depends on whether the offer is suitable. If I have to sit on a throne for the rest of my life without moving, I suggest I choose a better option."