At this moment, the bartender spoke.
"Mr. Pockham, if I'm not mistaken, it was you who killed Edson, wasn't it? And what you acquired was the hidden wine of the Duke of Trox. Otherwise, the old manager of the Black Market would not have personally attended to you. I am also curious—where did you acquire that wine? I observed earlier, you barely sipped from our finest, which surely means you've tasted the hidden wine before, and I suspect you still have some at home."
As the bartender spoke, the atmosphere in the tavern turned tense.
In the pitch-black night, the silence was unnerving. Some of the people gathered in the tavern could feel their hearts pounding wildly in their chests. They knew how much that wine was worth. If he still had any...
The wolf-like gaze of the patrons fixated on Delta-Quez.
The customers began to close in around him, and the bouncers blocked the exits. The bartender, calm and collected, stared intently at Delta-Quez.
"Speak now, and you might avoid a beating."
The customers cracked their knuckles, eager for the chance. One bottle was all they needed to escape this hellish place. As they thought of it, their eyes reddened, their breaths quickened.
Delta-Quez remained unfazed, for his plan had already reached its goal. Speaking wouldn't have the same persuasive effect as his actions had already achieved.
He swiftly drew a knife and plunged it into one of the bouncers, who, writhing in pain, stepped aside. Like a sly fox, Delta-Quez darted out, disappearing into the darkness.
"Quick, chase him! Don't let him get away!"
The patrons scrambled after him, but outside, it was pitch black, and no light could be seen. The mere sight of the deep, shadowed abyss made them fearful. In the end, they trudged back to the tavern, dejected.
"He got away!" someone yelled.
"Dammit, typical thief, he runs fast!"
"A rat's always a rat, can't stand the light."
They cursed him, yet their hearts boiled with envy. Their envy was so overwhelming, it almost drove them mad.
The bartender fumed at having allowed the thief to escape.
The injured bouncer had already been tended to in the back. The bartender inspected the wound, noting that it had been aimed at a vital spot. Had the thief not been intent on fleeing, the bouncer would have been dead.
"Pockham, you certainly have some skill. Just wait until I find you."
The scene shifted.
Delta-Quez arrived at the place where Pockham had buried his clothes and buried them again.
"Pockham, you were right. The snow will cover everything, and the night serves as a protective cloak. But sadly, you're no longer under its protection."
The wind rustled as Delta-Quez left the burial site. The heavy snow continued to fall, blanketing the place.
At dawn, a rumor spread across the streets.
Last night, Pockham was slain by the Duke of Trox's knights, struck down by the sacred silver sword.
The bartender, upon hearing the news, became even more certain that Pockham had hidden the Duke's wine. Otherwise, why would the Duke's knight have killed him? And someone had also found many Kxi coins on Pockham's red scarf.
By early morning, a crowd had gathered.
These were the people who had learned the night before that Pockham had hidden wine.
"What do we do now? Pockham's dead, and no one knows where the wine is."
"That was the Duke of Trox's hidden wine! If we get our hands on it, the knights will come after us."
"Are we going to starve to death just because we're afraid of being chased? Foolish! Besides, there are so many of us. Once we sell the wine, we can run away. Those high-and-mighty knights won't chase us forever for a bottle of wine. We're nobodies. We just need to change locations, and they won't find us."
Others, who were wavering before, suddenly became more determined.
"You're right, brother. We can't survive this winter without money. Who cares about the chase? Once we get the money, we'll enjoy the day. By the way, what should I call you, brother?"
"Call me Hunter."
"Ah, so you're the Hunter. I suppose you can't hunt because of the snowstorm, right?"
The Hunter's eyes gleamed with a mysterious smile before he lowered his head, hiding his expression.
"Yes, the snow has driven all the game into hiding. Hunting has become difficult."
Soon, the conversation resumed as the group began discussing where the thief might have hidden the wine.
The Hunter silently cursed their foolishness as they speculated.
"Why search for Pockham's remaining wine? We should find where Edson and he took the wine from. How stupid."
Just then, it seemed the bartender heard the Hunter's thoughts and voiced the same suggestion.
The Hunter couldn't help but glance at the bartender.
The bartender caught his gaze and smiled slightly.
"This man is a worthy adversary."
"The Hunter is not simple."
Both of them had hidden agendas.
The Hunter aimed to become their leader, to lay the foundation for future operations.
The bartender, however, planned to use the hidden wine to bribe the Marquis of Malobik and escape this place, ideally securing a title for himself.
With the suggestion made, the patrons were quick to join in on the thought.
"I know Edson. Not long ago, he mentioned discovering an abandoned castle deep in the woods and wanted someone to explore it with him."
"An exploration? We all know that taking along a second person just means another scapegoat. When there are wolves, it's not about outrunning the wolves, it's about outrunning your companions."
Edson had some renown among them, after all, he was the one who managed to kill his old mentor, the master thief. His experience was unparalleled.
But now, they were all dead.
"I suspect the castle they found was the Duke of Trox's castle. Do you remember the rumors?"
"The Hunter means, the source?"
The bartender's eyes brightened. He knew that the Duke of Trox had risen to power after leaving this very castle.
If that were true...
Suddenly, everyone's breath became quick. The mere thought of becoming a Marquess, Count, or even Duke was enough to send excitement surging through them.
"Hunter, you're so clever, you must know a way to find the Duke of Trox's castle."
The Hunter shook his head slightly.
"Edson and Pockham must have taken the wine from somewhere, but since we haven't found Edson's body, it means the castle has a guardian."
As soon as he said that, some people began to waver.
The Hunter saw this and cursed silently, but he continued.
"However, since Pockham managed to escape, it only means the castle's guardian is few in number... or perhaps there is just one! And it may not even be human."
"Not human? What do you mean?"
The Hunter gave him a contemptuous look.
"The jungle is filled with beasts. There could be bears, wolves, snakes... otherwise, why would Pockham be the only one to get out after all these years?"
The bartender, not wanting to lose the spotlight, moved closer.
"We need to plan our route carefully. The jungle is vast, and we must go out at night."
The tavern keeper, too, was aware of the danger that night presented and gave a slight nod.
The hunter, casting a side glance at the tavern keeper, thought to himself.
[This man cannot be allowed to stay.]
The hunter knew that allowing the tavern keeper to gain more influence within the group would be too risky. It would be uncontrollable and would hinder the plans he had carefully laid out. For a fledgling organization driven by mere profit, such risks were intolerable. At the outset, a single authoritative figure was all that was needed.
As long as the leader continued to provide tangible benefits, the group would remain intact. The key was ensuring that the members trusted that their leader would bring them true advantage.
With his eyes slightly lowered, the hunter listened attentively as the tavern keeper outlined the route and precautions. His thoughts, however, grew darker.
[Not yet the right moment, wait a bit longer. It must be when he makes a mistake that I strike.]
When an opportunity presents itself, the hunter knew he must remain utterly calm. Any emotional outburst could cloud judgment and lead to a fatal error. Patience was a virtue he had in abundance.
He also understood that he couldn't seize the position of power just yet. The tavern still served as the meeting place, and the tavern keeper and patrons were far too familiar with one another. Unless the tavern became his, or ceased to exist altogether, his influence could not grow.
By midday, the group prepared to leave. Their eyes now gleamed with a hunger for power. It was a hunger the hunter had seen before—in the eyes of his father when he was but a child. Yet now, his father's gaze was murky, the gleam of ambition long gone, replaced by an air of nearing decrepitude. Though his strategies remained sharp, his courage had visibly waned.
Many times, his father had resorted to using others to do his bidding, avoiding direct action and only offering rewards to those who served him.
"Father, I will prove you wrong. I too can become a noble."
At that moment, Delta-Quis, now firmly resolved, knew that his path was set. He was Quis, the hunter, and soon, he would assume many other identities.
In the black market.
Listening to his subordinate's report, Delta-Kevin barely cracked open his eyes, but there was no trace of murkiness in them. Instead, they shone with a piercing, relentless gleam.
He did not trust even his own son!
Delta-Quis hadn't been entirely wrong. Kevin was indeed a master of using others for his own ends.
This was no child's game. Acting in haste would be utterly pointless. The one who laughs last is the true victor.
Kevin had become the steward of the Troxxi Duke's castle not because of blind bravery, but through cunning and patience. He had outwitted one opponent after another to secure his position.
But now was not the time for pride. He still needed to remain hidden.
"Master Steward, the hunter is making moves with the tavern keeper. Should we intervene?"
"No need. The hunter has his own plans. You may leave."
The tavern keeper was an ally of the Marlobik Count, something Delta-Kevin was well aware of.
But Delta-Quis was unaware of the deeper connections. He didn't know that the hunter was the steward's own flesh and blood, merely one of the steward's trusted subordinates.
This was exactly the kind of imbalance in information that Kevin relied upon. It would help him root out the hidden agents within his own ranks, ensuring that no one would band together against him.
Delta-Kevin couldn't afford to lose his position—it was too comfortable.
Since the death of Poquem, the streets had grown eerily silent. People wondered where all the usual drunkards had gone.
But this was actually a good thing. At least now they didn't have to worry about a drunken fool stumbling in, causing trouble and leaving no way out.
Outside the jungle, the hunter and the tavern keeper stood by the side of the patrons.
The patrons, indifferent to who was commanding them, only cared about one thing: as long as they received money, anyone could be their leader.
Click, click, click—
The film reel on the number 0 projector came to an end.
Feng Si, having anticipated this moment, calmly sat.
Soon, he began to sense Delta-Kevin's thoughts.
"No one can stop me. I've planned for fifty years—this will succeed."
Delta-Quis's inner thoughts: "Father, you've grown old. Let me restore the glory of the Quis family!"
The tavern keeper: "Should I tell the Marlobik Count?"
The strong emotional fluctuations momentarily unsettled Feng Si, who found himself murmuring to himself, dazed by the intense emotions that filled his mind.
"It's hard when you haven't drunk enough."
Without the numbing effect of alcohol, the raw emotions surged through him. He couldn't help but feel uncomfortable.
After a pause, he rose from his seat and approached the number 0 projector, rewinding the film.
Click, click, click—
He took the severed finger, placed it back down, and refilled the empty wine glass with red wine.
Staggering slightly, he returned to the worn red leather sofa, his gaze sharpening as the familiar flicker of images returned before him.
"It's been seven days, and five people have died. What should we do, Tavern Keeper?"
In the shadows, the hunter smirked darkly.
He had deliberately withdrawn from the race for the leader's position, allowing the tavern keeper to take charge for the past seven days.
At first, the tavern keeper had been full of confidence, but that had quickly dissipated once the first death occurred.
The tavern keeper had immediately suspected the hunter, as he had seen through the hunter's desire to take the position of authority.
But despite his suspicions, the tavern keeper kept the hunter close.
Still, more people continued to die.
The most shocking was the fourth day, when two died. The next day, no one died, but today, another had fallen.
The tavern keeper, observing the growing distrust in the patrons' eyes, knew that if this continued, he would lose his chance to seize power.
[I must do something.]
The patrons, now suspicious of the tavern keeper, began to gravitate toward the hunter. His vast experience in survival had saved many of them, even though he hadn't ventured outside, he had personally explained the techniques to escape wild beasts.
They had survived, thanks to his guidance.
The patrons were eager to find the hidden wine and turn their fortunes around, but the ever-increasing body count was disheartening. Five had already died without even seeing the castle.
The tavern keeper's frustration grew, especially as he saw the patrons' growing distrust of him and their unconscious attraction to the hunter.
[Must I really turn to the Marlobik Count? If I do, I'll lose my chance.]
He knew of the Count's greed, but it was the only choice left.
"Wait here. I'll go seek help. Stay put."
The hunter narrowed his eyes as the tavern keeper left.
[The time has come.]
He spoke softly, voicing his suspicions: "Who do you think can help us?"
The patrons shook their heads.
"Then let me rephrase—who here has extra hands to help us?"
Suddenly, a chilling thought gripped the patrons' minds.
"Hunter, you mean the tavern keeper is going to the Marlobik Count?"
The hunter didn't respond, but pressed on.
"Do any of you think we are a match for the knights?"
The patrons grew increasingly uneasy, and the hunter, seeing their panic, continued to drive the point home.
"Everyone knows how greedy the Marlobik Count is. He won't want anyone else dividing the hidden wine with him, especially since the Duke's knights will pursue anyone who takes it."