Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

In this town, the influx of money from this type of gray industry alone amounts to a considerable sum.

And the member of the Hermitage of Mount Xun in front of us, Kebiin, is the leader of this huge industry.

……

“Since you already know, I won’t go into detail about what the black market is. You must have accumulated a lot of stolen goods along the way, with nowhere to sell them, right?” Koby pointed to himself. “Selling them off batch by batch through lawyers? That’s too slow. From now on, have him come directly to me.”

"Anyone from your Red Center Gang who comes to the black market in White Torch Town can have their prices increased by 30% from the current price, basically selling at market price, and I'll only charge you a symbolic transfer fee."

"Aren't you a member of the Xunshan Hermitage?" Zhang Renfeng asked suspiciously. "You're actually doing this kind of business behind the organization's back?"

“You think of the Secret Order as far too mysterious, Red Center.” Koby stared intently at him. “Leaving aside faith and creed, we are just a group of hermits living in the mountains. The Illuminati recruits the wealthy and famous, so they naturally don’t lack money or worry about funding. But we don’t have that advantage. After leaving Mount Xun, we’ll have to figure out how to make money on our own.”

Zhang Renfeng was taken aback, realizing he had gone astray, mistaking the Xunshan Hermitage for an organization similar to the monks in his hometown. They practiced vegetarianism, chanted Buddhist scriptures, meditated, and some temples even taught martial arts, with a special system of "martial monks." However, customs varied greatly from place to place.

In fact, they are completely different things.

"What about the conditions?"

“No conditions,” Koby said. “Just consider this my personal investment in the future development of the Red Center Gang. I can earn more by cooperating with you long-term.”

“I hate it when people bring up the ‘future’,” Zhang Renfeng said, narrowing his eyes and firmly refusing. “If you don’t offer any conditions, then cooperation is out of the question.”

He knew the cunning of businessmen well, and what they should be most wary of was any benefit obtained for free.

In his experience, anything given away for free rarely ends well. Moreover, Kobiin's background wasn't exactly "clean"; he had another tightly controlled organization behind him. Although he repeatedly emphasized that this collaboration had nothing to do with the Hermitage of Mount Sumeru and was entirely his personal decision, some connection was unavoidable.

"Is there any paper?"

"Here you go." Zhang Renfeng handed over several of his sketches. "Make do with these."

"..." Koby rarely rolled his eyes at him, but still took out a pen from his pocket and scribbled on the back of the drawing paper, sketching out a familiar pattern.

The Illuminati's Eye of Truth was the one he saw in the meditation room beneath the clock tower.

"Given the way you Red Center gang members operate, the probability of encountering Illuminati members in the future will be extremely high. I don't know if this counts as a compliment."

"This is their unique emblem, which you should have seen before. In the future, if you find anything unusual related to this organization... such as undecipherable codebooks, letters bearing this emblem, or secret tokens, please bring them to me. This will be of great help to our cause."

A codebook?

Zhang Renfeng frowned. "Do they often use passwords to record things?"

“Illuminati members? Of course, it’s commonplace.” Koby nodded. “The Illuminati is a very large organization. Most of the secrets exchanged within the core circle cannot be revealed to the public and need to be concealed by codes. For example, the plan for an assassination operation, the economic flow within a state, the power transition of a state government, and so on.”

"The goal of these people is to replace God and to hold the fate of ordinary people, from birth to death, firmly in their hands."

Zhang Renfeng's mind was very quick; almost instantly, he connected the two massive, mysterious books he had intercepted from Chedel's train.

A wealthy businessman with a monopoly-level status sounds like a perfect fit for the Illuminati's recruitment criteria.

Is it possible that guy... is also a member of this secret society?

With his mind racing, Zhang Renfeng quickly came up with a plan.

----

"So, you've also come up empty-handed..." The newcomer sighed, looking somewhat dejected. Running around all day had nearly broken his legs. "Strange, something's not right. My intuition tells me that this lead should be reliable."

He and Mike spent the whole day checking everyone they could, but they still couldn't find a match. None of these people who had been in and out of mental hospitals seemed to have the time or the means to steal a tongue. They were all busy with other things, like checking for signs of a struggle.

“This is normal. Seemingly reasonable clues may just go cold as you investigate.” Mike, being an old hand, didn’t show any disappointment because of the day’s setback. He just patted him on the shoulder and said, “Aren’t there still three people? We can check again tomorrow.”

Intuition tells the newcomer that none of the remaining three people are likely to amount to anything.

But he still smiled and said goodbye to Mike before turning and leaving.

Chapter 168: Top! (53)

Looking back on the day's events, the newlyweds felt incredibly exhausted and had lost their usual energy.

The people he asked were mostly his colleagues at the police station. Even if his tone was flippant and sounded like a joke, they were all in the same system, so they understood what he meant. Naturally, their attitudes weren't as friendly.

After all, the hypothesis put forward by Kobyne was implying that the true identity of the Australian Shrike was likely someone within the system.

"Something's not right. Where exactly is the problem?" He picked up his pen and started marking up the list, muttering to himself for a long time, but he couldn't find a single clue. In the end, he could only sigh in frustration and put the pen down.

Days passed, but the case made no progress. Aside from myself, no one in the entire police station seemed to care about it. Was it going to drag on for ten days or two weeks like before, only to be hastily closed?

He sighed and was about to go to Sheriff Gordon's office to get the key when his gaze suddenly fell on the commendation letter on the wall.

The letter was handwritten by Mayor Wendigo, and Gordon had hung it in his office to boost morale. Looking at it, a sudden chill ran through him; the unsettling feeling of something missing was finally filled by this new clue! But the joy of finding a clue was quickly overshadowed by the fear of reality. He even felt incredibly terrified that he had had such a thought while standing before the letter.

“No, no, no, how could that be… impossible!” The newcomer shook his head violently, muttering to himself, “What reason would he have to do such a thing? Besides, how could a murderer be elected mayor? What about those fourteen victims…”

As he was talking, the newcomer couldn't continue because he suddenly realized that the thirteenth and fourteenth victims of the Australian shrike were about seven months apart.

Wendigo entered this small political arena about seven months ago. So far, it could be said to be just a coincidence, but once the floodgates of suspicion were opened, they could not be closed again. He suddenly realized that Mayor Wendigo seemed to bear some resemblance to the suspect profile that the police department had been pursuing.

----

In front of Wendigo Lecter's mansion.

The newlyweds, carrying lanterns, hesitated. They lingered at the door for a long time, not daring to knock.

A new police officer dared to suspect the mayor—his superior’s superior—without any prior report.

Besides, who is Wendigo? He was the one who single-handedly promoted Gordon from some backwater in Granite State to the position of sheriff of White Torch. You could say he was incredibly kind to Gordon. Even if he went to Gordon about it, he'd be lucky if Gordon didn't twist his own head off.

If they actually knock on the door and ask questions, even if I'm not fired, I'll probably be a "newcomer" in the police station forever.

"Tsk, what a mess..."

He hesitated for a moment, not daring to enter, but instead extinguished the lantern and walked around the room.

The night was heavy, and the leaves in the yard had been left unattended for a long time, making a crunching sound when stepped on.

Do we really have to break in through windows and doors like thieves?

As he hesitated, the newlywed suddenly noticed a raised area on the ground—covered by fallen leaves, which he might have missed if he hadn't glanced at it unintentionally. Stopping in his tracks, he realized that Wendigo's yard was quite deep, and as he walked, he had arrived at a secluded and quiet spot.

The night wind rustled the leaves, and in the empty courtyard, an inexplicable fear gripped him, making him feel extremely oppressed and giving him an urge to turn and leave.

Logically speaking, this new discovery is perfectly normal and there's nothing wrong with it. A cellar, after all—what wealthy family wouldn't hide something in their courtyard?

but……

Emotionally speaking, the newcomer gritted his teeth, drew his sidearm, and opened the cellar door with one hand—interestingly, it wasn't locked! The doorknob was clean and shiny, without much dust, indicating that people frequently came and went from here.

A darkness so thick it seemed tangible rushed toward him.

……

As they went down, the lights seemed to turn black, and the newlyweds dared not slack off, staring intently at everything.

The scene before him truly startled him.

It's as if a butcher shop has been opened directly underground.

The dining table, cutting board, and all sorts of hooks are all provided.

Beside them was a four-meter-wide trough, in which several intestines were gleaming and soaking. The bloodstains had been washed away, and the intestines retained their original color, lying quietly in the cold water. Although not a single drop of blood was visible, the newlyweds were still terrified, their faces turning ashen. One can imagine how horrifying it would be to suddenly see this thing at such a moment.

Is there any record of Australian shrikes taking human intestines? Large intestine or small intestine?!

But then he saw the finished products by the sink—rolls of woven violin strings, gleaming slightly with a bright silver sheen in the darkness, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Sheep intestine strings, also known as the aristocracy of violin strings, require 30-meter-long sheep intestines to be thoroughly cleaned and soaked in clean water for two days to remove the intestines' inherent odor and soften them.

Next, use a bamboo knife to scrape off the outer layer of fascia and fat from the sheep intestines. This process takes about a week. Then, soak the cleaned sheep intestines in alkaline water to soften them and use a thimble to remove any remaining dirt until the intestines become transparent and clear. The resulting strings will allow you to bring the art of the violin to its fullest potential.

"So that's it, it's a sheep intestine string... No wonder..."

The newcomer shuddered again, a sense of unease rising in his mind—everyone knew the mayor had an interest in art, but even so, no one had ever heard of him getting involved in wholesaling musical instruments.

What is the purpose of such a huge amount of intestinal strings?

And what exactly is this slaughterhouse-like basement used for?

He didn't dare to think too much about it, planning to do one last check and leave once he found nothing suspicious.

However... when he lifted the black cloth covering the corner of the wall, what he saw made his heart stop for a moment.

A pair of enormous antlers.

Like a forest emerging from the darkness, shining brightly upon him.

"Ah! Ah..."

In utter shock, he was speechless. He felt a tightness in his chest, as if he couldn't breathe, and he frantically pounded his chest. In his astonishment, he saw a figure standing silently at the entrance to the basement, watching him intently.

I've never seen that person's face before, but it's definitely not Mayor Wendigo; there's a vertical scar near his eye.

"ah----!!!"

As if his reason had been emptied, the newcomer's face contorted with rage as he drew his gun and fired until the magazine was empty, all six bullets hitting the wall.

The impact sent shards of stone flying everywhere.

Fear turned to rage; the newcomer drew the short knife from his waist and pounced on it with a scream.

"Ha, fool..." The newcomer sneered, then suddenly stomped his foot, unleashing a powerful, penetrating syllable, "Go!"

"when----!!"

The knife tip touched his heart, but couldn't penetrate even an inch. This result left the newcomer wide-eyed, as if he had seen a ghost.

“Hahahahahahaha——!!”

A heavy punch landed squarely on his nose, and the sound of his nose breaking filled the air. Immediately following was an uncontrollable wave of dizziness, which even overshadowed the pain.

After he collapsed, but before he lost consciousness, he vaguely saw...

The man had a cicada tattooed on his arm.

Chapter 169: Who isn't? (Part 54)

"..."

"Forehead……"

In a daze, the newcomer felt that he had regained some consciousness, and the sound could gradually reach his ears, but he could not move his body. Under immense pressure, he was able to open his eyes a crack and take a look at his surroundings.

He is still in that hellish cellar.

"Haven't found a replacement yet, Mr. Lecter? You must be joking with me, right?"

The man who had punched himself in the face leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, a mocking sneer on his face. “The letters from below are almost reaching our headquarters. You’re the mayor of White Torch Town, you should know that those mining bosses treat miners like expendable resources. Without those slave workers, once this batch is used up, the next batch has to be quickly brought in so they can keep operating 24/7.”

"Now look what's happened, on your turf, the next batch is taking forever to arrive..."

"You're putting me... and my superiors in a very difficult position." The man's voice gradually turned cold. "We agreed that we wouldn't interfere with your shady little hobbies, and you had to ensure the smooth operation of this line. This doesn't quite align with our original agreement, does it?"

"Do you know how many guys like you I've dealt with who's become suspicious of you because of your little 'hobby'? Last time it was the police, this time it's the police again. That guy at the police station was someone you promoted yourself. Have they already slipped out of your control?!"

Faced with a barrage of questions, Wendigo maintained his composure, pinching the stem of the wine glass with two fingers, gently swirling it, and lowering his head to inhale the rich aroma of the wine. Even in the dark, cramped cellar, his standards for judging smells remained extremely rigorous.

“Calm down, Quira.” Wendigo took a small sip, swirling the almost blood-tasting red wine in his mouth with his tongue, and said with a smile, “Please allow me to apologize to E.U. Things haven’t been going very well lately.”

“I think I should write him a letter too. The main reason is that there’s a problem with the transport line he’s on near White Torch Town. The Wolf Shepherd Gang, which has been responsible for transporting slave laborers, has been wiped out by someone. With this line cut off, many things have to be put on hold for the time being.”

"Didn't I tell you to hire another person?" Quira said impatiently. "Anyone will do, as long as they're useful. Just fill in for now."

"Mr. Shepherd's business acumen is undeniable. Although he lacks some experience in team management, it won't be easy to find a replacement for him in the short term."

Wendigo said calmly, "I hope you can also relay my words to E.U. It's all for business. In these matters, it's better to be cautious than to bring people in haphazardly, especially since..."

"Add what?" Quira understood his unspoken meaning. "Spit it out!"

"After many days, that person has reappeared in White Torch Town. I think you must have heard about it, right?" Wendigo put down his cup and said in a deep voice, "Red Center."

"His existence is like a monster that appeared out of nowhere, blocking all paths. I have to adopt a cautious strategy to avoid being targeted by him... Based on past experience, he has an almost primal hatred for public power."

"Tch, Red Central is bullshit. You're all just too afraid of him. If you ask me, this guy is nothing but a gimmick. He killed a few defenseless nobles, and you're all scared like this." Quira sneered. "Dare to come looking for trouble? Let him see my Qi Hard Kung Fu! Tough as nails!"

"Boom!!"

With a swift turn and a punch, Quella left a mark on the stone wall and gloated over it.

"..." Wendigo sneered at this display of force, but didn't show it directly. He simply dusted off his clothes. "As for the replacement, I've already found one recently. His name is Bruce Zhang, a bounty hunter from out of town, with no ties here. He also possesses extremely strong personal abilities."

“I believe he will be interested in my proposal.”

"Who you hire to do the work is your business, but if anything goes wrong here and you can't handle it properly..." Quira's tone already carried a warning tone, "then don't blame us, the [Cicada Gang], for taking action on your turf!"