Shadow Apostle

"Selling newspapers, selling newspapers, Mingyue City Police Department carefully deployed, the battle was successful, and the murderer was killed on the spot."

"The murderer turned out to be a coachman, and the Rangers Guild announced a city-wide industry self-examination."

"Except, the royal princess is about to visit Mingyue Ling. This is the first time for a royal family member to travel by airship. For details, please see the special royal issue of this newspaper."

"It's cheap. The toothfish in the Wendy River only costs twelve milliliters each. It's cheap."

"Bread, bread, three millas per pound, the cheapest black bread, come and take a look."

"Cane, pocket watch, boots."

"Sir, Miss, please show your kindness and donate one Mila to the Suffering Church for the victims of the disaster in the Zapat Federation."

Horst jumped out of the carriage, and the noisy sound rushed towards him.

Short newsboys rushed along the street waving newspapers, and strong laborers staggered along carrying heavy goods. From time to time, steam pipes on the roadside spewed feebly white mist, filling the corners and the ground with puddles of water. A pool of dirty water.

Huge rats emerged from the open sewers and swaggered along the steam-eroded street corners. The dirty children ran among the rats with bare feet and stepped on the sewage, climbing up the steep slope along the gears on the wall. The buildings were submerged in the dusty air.

This is the Princess District. It was the center of Mingyue City a hundred years ago, but now it has declined and become a symbol of the slums. Only this central square can still reveal a bit of the prosperity of the past.

However, now is not the time to lament these things, you must deal with your own problems as soon as possible.

Because Horst felt that he was getting more and more uncomfortable.

After making way for the dilapidated carriage passing through the street, knocking off the two little hands reaching for his pockets, and pushing aside a few beggars who came out early in the morning to waste time without thinking, Horst squeezed into the butcher shop in the central square with difficulty. inside.

There were several pig fans hanging on both sides, fresh beef and mutton on the table, and the cries of live chickens could be heard in the back room. The smell of meat that hit his face made Horst increasingly uncomfortable.

Fortunately, it was still early, so I didn’t have to compete with those crazy housewives for position.

Horst let out a long sigh, straightened his clothes, and tapped the counter with his cane.

"Aha, dear Mr. Zhuomu."

The busy butcher looked back and immediately came over with a knife. When he got closer, he realized something was wrong. He quickly dropped the sharp blade and wiped his hands on his apron. A flattering smile appeared on his face full of flesh, which looked quite funny.

"Praise the Lord of Wealth, Mr. Zhuomu, Your Excellency Zhuomu, welcome, welcome. It's not even been three days and another batch is coming? It seems that you and your family have a really good appetite recently. This is a good thing. Haha, it must be the blessing of the Lord of Suffering, making your family healthier and healthier, and your appetite getting better and better. Praise the Lord of Suffering, and praise Fiona."

"Yes, Mr. Smith, something unexpected happened. The shopping time has to be advanced. We have less than three days to wait." Horst looked around the pile of meat. "The price hasn't changed, right? Thanks to the Human Empire and the Tulip Kingdom." As a result of the war, many things are now priced at the same price every day.”

"It hasn't changed this time. Pork is twenty-eight milliliters per pound, mutton is twenty-eight milliliters, and beef is twenty-four milliliters per pound. However, the chicken has increased, and it is ninety-five milliliters per pound."

The corners of Horst's mouth twitched, his face became increasingly gloomy, and he glared at Mr. Smith sideways.

"Hahaha, okay, okay, let's stick to the old rules. I'll give you fifteen millimeters of pork per pound, and I'll choose the best quality parts." Mr. Smith rubbed his hands flatteringly and added, "That's it. , and I’ll give you a pound of fine beef tenderloin, which I keep to honor my wife, I’ll give you half of it, who makes you a big customer, hahaha.”

Horst's face softened a little and he nodded reservedly.

After you have just made a fortune, you have to reward yourself, not to mention it is a free gift, who can not love it?

"Hehe, let me tell you that Mr. Zhuom has a good sense, and I will prepare it for you. Is it the customary twenty pounds? Or the special thirty pounds?"

Horst's chest hurt as if it had been torn apart, and his teeth were almost broken before he managed to squeeze out a word.

"This time... I estimate it will be at least fifty pounds. Just weigh fifty pounds for me. No, I regret it. You have to give me the remaining half of the sirloin you kept privately, or I will tell your wife. If you are giving meat to people outside, don’t think that I don’t know who it is for.”

"Sir Zhuom, you have gone too far. OK, OK, I admit it."

Mr. Smith walked backstage angrily, and then there was the sound of chopping meat.

But before the cutting was finished, the boss heard Horst shouting outside: "Find me another newspaper and I'll wrap things up. No new newspaper is needed. Yesterday's Investigator's newspaper will do. How about it? I'm very easy-going."

"hehe……"

It’s hard to say whether he is easy-going or not, but the requirements of big customers are the oracles. When Mr. Smith finally pulled the flatbed trailer out of the store, he had already found a newspaper with oil on it and put it on the car.

"Fifty pounds, seven and a half lucas." Smith was about to deliver the goods when he suddenly retracted his hand, "There is already a gift this time. You can't just say that the color of the meat does not suit the weather and give you fifty pounds less." ”

"Why would I make such a shameless request? You are insulting a gentleman. Don't worry, I will find another reason. Let go, let go..."

Horst pulled the tow rope a few times but failed to grab it. He had to grit his teeth and took out the warmed wallet. He counted seven and a half silver Lucca and reluctantly wiped them one by one before placing them in the boss's hand. inside.

Not even a day has passed, and one-tenth of the money has been lost. I don’t know when I will make money again. When will this impoverished life end?

Living off the scattered commissions in the tavern is not a long-term solution.

No, we must find an opportunity as soon as possible to find a way to obtain a Class A license for a private detective agency. With that, we will be eligible to officially accept those non-public business commissions.

When it officially opens to the public, although it will be more dangerous, life may be easier.

I no longer have to watch Boss Smith cut pork as painfully as cutting my own meat every time.

Life in the mysterious world is really difficult.

Sighing in his heart, Horst dragged the rickety trailer and walked quickly into the depths of the Princess Area.

Everything around him became more and more dilapidated, with the gray walls peeling off from time to time, revealing large tracts of red bricks.

Rusted steam and gas pipes covered the outer walls of the buildings, like ferocious tentacles, tightly grasping this old neighborhood.

No. 85 Vera Street was right in front of him, and Horst had already seen the street lamp that he had kicked last night.

A very ordinary two-story old building, just like other buildings in the Princess District.

Dilapidated, old and lifeless.

Quietly, quietly, and quietly.

As soon as he approached the fifty-meter range of No. 85, Horst immediately became alert, and even his movements became much gentler. He carefully avoided the most terrifying creature near the apartment and slipped into this old building.

It was great not to be discovered by Mrs. Jennifer.

The rent for three silver lukas can be postponed for another day.

The perennial musty smell immediately entered the nose, the pipes on the wall leaked a few thin streams of steam from time to time, and the old floorboards creaked from time to time.

Dragging the cart, he skillfully avoided several broken floorboards and stuffed the oily newspapers into neighbor 102's newspaper box.

I'll pay you back.

Muttering to himself, Horst quickly got into 103, the little nest he had been sheltering in for the past year.

The most ordinary old apartment, it's so shabby inside that it's heartbreaking.

Apart from a table, a chair and a wardrobe, there was only one bed left. The overly simple furnishings made the small apartment seem quite spacious.

Horst immediately locked the door and took out the kerosene stove from the cabinet.

He would not use the high-priced gas offered by his landlord, Mrs. Jennifer, which cost two copper millas per ten minutes. The kerosene stove was the greatest invention of mankind.

Holding back the increasingly intense discomfort, Horst secretly washed up the gifted beef in the public washroom.

It is indeed good beef, with bright red muscles dotted with white fat. The image alone is enough to capture a hungry heart. What's more, it's very elastic when you press it with your fingers. By touching it, you can imagine the strong texture when it's stewed and put into your mouth.

As a time traveler, Horst has often made some hometown flavors in the house over the past year, and now is no exception. Soon, the beef cut into pieces was stewed in the pot, and the room was gradually filled with the aroma of meat.

Now it's time to get down to business.

Be patient, be patient, it's time to eat.

Horst spread out a huge oilcloth in the empty room. The oilcloth was washed clean, and there was no dust in sight.

Later, large chunks of fat and lean fresh pork were piled in a pile on the oilcloth. The fresh meat with water droplets looked no worse than the ones in the pot.

He took off his coat and shirt, revealing the smooth skin of his chest and abdomen and his obvious six-pack abs. There were no scars on the skin, but Horst seemed to still feel the pain of being burned by the flames just now.

It was too painful to be burned into a skeleton.

But at least it's better than death.

Sighing, Horst patted his stomach.

It’s almost time, let’s have dinner.

The next moment, six ferocious tentacles burst out of the abdomen.

The belly was not broken, and the tentacles just came out as if they grew directly from the belly. The dark brown tentacles were thick and long, like the arms and legs of an octopus. The surface was cold and smooth, and it was covered with bumps. The lumps and suction-cup-like depressions on his body were squirming and twisting in the air.

After waving a few tentacles for a while, they quickly found their target and stretched out toward the piles of pork on the oilcloth. At this time, Horst had already sat on the bed. The distance was a bit far away, but the tentacles stretched longer and longer. Not limited by distance, he easily jumped into the pile of meat, and soon there was a rustling sound.

Horst sat aside and sighed, staring blankly at the few things sticking out of his body.

Horst had known this thing since he encountered a mystery on the first day of time travel and was eventually blown to pieces.

This guy usually hides quietly in Horst's body without causing any trouble and has no sense of existence. But even if Horst is blown to pieces, he can still be resurrected in a deserted corner with it.

But everything in this world comes at a price.

From then on, Horst not only had a beacon-like attraction to mystery, but also had to live a life of poverty.

This guy had to eat a lot of meat every three days, and he would eat even more every time he helped Horst resurrect, otherwise Horst would have an extremely strong sense of hunger.

He also tried what would happen if he didn't let it eat, but it wouldn't do anything because it was Horst himself who was hungry.

Horst quickly stopped the experiment because he was not sure whether he would subconsciously turn to the most abundant ingredients around him after losing his mind in the face of hunger. This would be the most terrifying possibility.

"You said you can't eat less? If you eat like this, no matter how much money I make, it won't be enough for you. What a troublesome guy, and it doesn't look normal at first glance. If someone sees this, he will definitely I arrested them as cultists, even those two idiots Monica and Jessica."

As he muttered, his fingers poked at the base of the tentacles. After sharing the same body for a year, Horst had become accustomed to this weird and cold touch.

The more he pokes, the easier it becomes until a small tentacle splits out from the base of the tentacle, turns around and slaps the troublesome finger aside.

"He has quite a temper."

Horst curled his lips and heard the bubbling sound on the kerosene stove. Knowing that his portion was ready, he stood up with a grumble and dragged the tentacles on his belly to the stove.

Then he did what he thought was the stupidest thing in his life.

So far.

The first over-the-top plot of this book is almost over. I'm trying hard to control the rhythm. I hope I didn't make the same mistake as Yara and Wu Guang before and made the rhythm too slow. I also hope I didn't make everyone confused for the sake of rhythm like I did in this game. I hope the effect of this book will be better, and I hope you can leave more messages.