In the dark of night, Alger, carrying the heavy black briefcase, hurried through the intricate streets of Bayam.
Just as he was about to leave the remote area and head towards the city, his steps suddenly faltered.
He sensed a faint feeling of being watched.
Someone was following him...
His heart pounded, and his hand gripping the briefcase tightened.
Inside this case were "goods" worth several thousand pounds!
He immediately stopped, pretending to adjust his collar, and cautiously scanned his surroundings with the corner of his eye.
The dim street, closed doors and windows, gas lamps swaying in the wind… Everything looked the same as usual, and no suspicious figures were found.
Strange, was it a delusion?
Alger looked at the heavy case in his hand.
Could it be that the large sum of this transaction made me a bit paranoid?
After all, these were "goods" worth nearly ten thousand pounds.
Alger had been in the Beyonder world for so long, but this was the first time he had handled a transaction of such a large amount.
After looking around and confirming there was no movement, Alger continued his steps, heading towards the Fragrant Tree Leaf Bar.
But out of the caution of an experienced Beyonder, he did not walk in a straight line, but deliberately took several detours, weaving back and forth through several similar alleys, trying to shake off any potential "tails."
This also made him a few minutes late for the agreed time.
When he finally arrived near the Fragrant Tree Leaf Bar, at the secluded alley they had agreed upon, "Strongman" Ozil was already waiting there. He leaned against the wall, his figure almost merging with the Darkness.
"You're late," Ozil's voice showed no emotion.
"There was a small incident on the way, which caused a delay," Alger explained.
"Did you bring the goods?" Ozil's gaze fell on the large briefcase in his hand.
"Yes, of course," Alger lifted the case in his hand, indicating it.
"Alright, follow me."
"Strongman" Ozil waved at Alger, asked no further questions, and turned to lead him into an inconspicuous black carriage parked at the alley's entrance.
With the jolting of the carriage, it traveled in the Darkness for nearly twenty minutes, finally stopping slowly in front of a huge warehouse that exuded the smell of sea and decay.
An old warehouse in the dock area? What a classic trading spot… Alger glanced at the familiar surroundings outside the window, analyzing in his mind.
Ozil got out of the carriage first and led him into the warehouse. The interior of the warehouse was vast and dark, with only a few strands of crimson moonlight filtering through the broken windows high above, illuminating the dust inside.
The two passed through mountains of stacked goods and finally arrived at a closed iron Door.
"The people they sent are in this room," Ozil pointed at the iron Door and said, "You go in by yourself, I'll wait for you at the Door."
"Alright." Alger surveyed his surroundings, confirmed there was no ambush, and nodded.
He pushed open the heavy iron Door and walked in.
Inside the compartment, only a dim kerosene lamp was lit. A man dressed in wide-legged trousers and a brown jacket, appearing to be a local Loenese, sat behind a table, with his back to him.
Hearing footsteps, the man slowly turned around.
Alger's eyes flickered imperceptibly when he saw the other person's face.
"Mithor Jin?" He called out the other's name with a hint of surprise.
"Sly Speaker" Mithor, formerly the third mate under "Admiral of the Hurricane" Qilangos. As a "fellow countryman" of Qilangos, Alger had paid some attention to the main officers on his ship, so he immediately recognized the other party.
Mithor later defected to the Disease Maiden—so, it was Disease Maiden Tracy who put a bounty on Brando.
Alger quickly analyzed in his mind that the unlucky fellow had actually provoked such a famous pirate.
"Should I feel honored that you know me?" Mithor didn't recognize Alger, assuming his own fame was widespread enough.
He recalled his captain's instructions, suppressed the unease in his heart, and coldly asked, "Monchi Brando, did you bring him?"
"Yes, his corpse is in this case." Alger placed the briefcase on the ground.
"Corpse—" Mithor felt the dressing mirror in his arms suddenly tremble violently, and the corner of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.
"Are you sure he's dead?" He confirmed again with a strange tone.
"He's dead. Didn't the middleman already say that?" Alger retorted, feeling that something was off with the other party.
"Nothing, I'm just asking," Mithor immediately covered up.
"Now, can we discuss the bounty?" Alger didn't want to waste any more time.
"No rush," Mithor said, "I need to see the body first."
"Alright."
After Alger nodded in agreement, Mithor stepped forward and opened the black briefcase. A curled-up corpse, with wide-open eyes and a face made somewhat hideous by pain, appeared before him.
Exactly like the portrait the captain gave him—it seems he really is dead.
Mithor couldn't help but shiver at the thought of his captain's furious expression upon hearing this news.
He forced himself to calm down, closed the case, turned around, and squeezed out a smile again, starting to chat with Alger, asking various detailed questions.
Thanks to the pre-arranged story with Danitz, Alger answered fluently.
"So, you really killed him?" Mithor finally asked the most crucial question.
Upon hearing this, Alger recounted the script he had prepared. Due to his agreement with Danitz, he deliberately omitted Danitz's existence.
He only said that when he accidentally discovered Monchi Brando, he was already severely wounded, which was why he could easily intercept him.
Unfortunately, due to severe injuries, he died during the capture.
After listening, Mithor nodded and then asked a question that Alger found utterly bizarre:
"So, you indirectly caused his death, right?"
"Uh—that's one way to look at it," Alger replied, though he found it strange.
"Alright, I understand," Mithor said to himself.
"You are indeed a relevant person."
"What?" Alger was a bit confused, but Mithor had no intention of explaining, only staring at him in silence.
After a while, he finally grew impatient: "Now, can we discuss the bounty?"
"No rush, no rush," Mithor said with a smile, stood up, walked to the table, picked up a Wine Bottle, poured a glass of Wine, and handed it to Alger. "Come, let's drink and talk."
Alger felt increasingly strange, but he still took the Wine glass, though he had no intention of drinking.
He looked at the golden liquid in the glass and spoke:
"Let's not waste time—"
Just as he was about to say something, he felt a crushing sensation, filled with endless resentment, suddenly sweep over him.
Before he could react, countless transparent, almost invisible threads, without warning, surged from the shadows around him,
Instantly wrapping around him, binding his body tightly!
"Cough, cough—" Alger was about to struggle, but suddenly coughed. He felt as if he had fallen gravely ill, completely devoid of strength.
He lost the ability to resist in an instant.
"You, what are you doing!"