Monet woke up, and as a rare artist in Hosdey, he was somewhat confused about the difference between dream and reality.

He had a dream in which he and the others went to the Grey Hat's chamber in order to avenge Vincent, but he was cut off from the barrier by a slow step, and just when he was at a loss, he ran into Tom, the guy who was inseparable from the little Jerry, and the two had a good relationship just like he and Vincent.

Poor Vincent, who can no longer paint with him, may his soul rest in Nilverheim.

The dream came to an abrupt end, and then he woke up in a daze, and found himself lying in a dark, damp dungeon, with a dull pain in the back of his head and a cross-shaped wound opened in the barrier above his head.

"Where am I?"

He was a little confused, the lucid dream was fading away, and his heavy body was slowly regaining consciousness.

"Great, you're awake!"

Tom's voice rang in my ears.

"Tom? I can't still dream, do I? ”

He shook his head and stood up, surprised to see Tom standing in front of him, holding Jerry with gauze wrapped around his head in his arms, the little man who looked bad, his lips were blue, and his face was scarred.

Jerry...... What's wrong? ”

"He was saved by you, Monet." Tom looked grateful and couldn't stop thanking him.

"I saved him? What's going on? Monet wondered if he had amnesia.

"That's ......"

Tom told Monet a bizarre story.

The beginning of the story is the same as Monet's dream, he meets Tom and then tells him everything, and then the story changes.

In Tom's version, Tom, who was in a hurry to save Jerry, took him around the secret room and went down, carving a path through the gradually weakening barrier, only to accidentally fall headlong and faint at the end.

"So that's why I have a dull pain in the back of my head?" Monet asked, rubbing his head.

"yes, it's very high here, if you hadn't fallen first, maybe you would." Tom shrugged.

Monet still felt a little unreal.

"And what tool do I use? I didn't bring out my weapon......"

Tom reached out and handed him a scarred dagger.

"I lent it to you at the time, how could you not remember?" He looked at Monet suspiciously: "Will you break your brain when you come down and forget about this paragraph?" ”

Monet raised his hand, his right arm was really sore and weak, and his palm and tiger's mouth were also faintly painful.

There is no doubt that this is also what Mu Yan instigated.

The muscle memory made Monet unable to refute, and he began to wonder if he had really broken his brain.

"It's time for us to go back." Tom stood up with Jerry in his arms and bowed. "I will always remember your noble character, Monsieur Monet."

Monet also bowed slightly and watched him leave.

He held the broken sword in his hand and swung it a few times, and there was indeed a feeling of overexertion.

"Am I really mistaken?"

He looked up and saw the cross wound on the top of his head, which was indeed caused by the dagger.

"Perhaps, I often get so caught up in things that I accidentally fall into a pit."

"Speaking of which, I haven't looked closely at where this is."

Monet stood up and looked around, his gaze striking everywhere he went.

Cages, bloodstains, shackles, shackles, and a headless skeleton in almost every cell......

This is......

He suddenly saw a familiar corpse, which he remembered as a painter from the Orient, and the two had some exchanges.

The reason why I was impressed was because the painter was born with only eight fingers and lacked a little thumb. He also laughed at himself that he was a wizard, otherwise he might be a waste, and the lack of a little thumb made it impossible for him to hold his weapon tightly, and even the paintbrush could not be controlled at will. To this end, he also created a special painting technique, pinching the charcoal in a strange posture, and then using monotonous black, white and gray colors to express the sense of hierarchy and space on the rough white paper, each painting can show three-dimensional beauty on the plane, which really amazes him.

The gentleman disappeared after not being active for long...... Now it seems that he must have been abducted here by those greedy goblins and assassinated.

Monet split open the cell and pulled a yellowed blank piece of paper from beneath the rotting white bones.

Touching the paper, the familiar roughness made him miss it a little.

"It's a dirty place."

Monet stood up and muttered.

……

The Plush Deer Ears Inn is on the fourth floor, in the penultimate room at the end of the hallway.

"2214 Tallinns, 2215 Tallinns...... Why haven't I fallen asleep yet? ”

Uno jumped up from the bed and walked around anxiously.

"Uncle Ricky?" He leaned against the door and shouted softly.

"Knock Knock Knock ......"

There was a cacophony of footsteps, and he hurried back.

"Click", the door next door opened and closed, and he hurriedly pasted it back again.

"Uncle Ricky?"

"I'm here, Uno." Ricky, who happened to be back in time, hurriedly replied, "It's dangerous outside, you stay inside first." ”

“……”

Uno threw himself back on the bed, and his body of more than two hundred pounds made the bed board moan overwhelmed.

"Damn, where did I count?"

……

Half an hour later, Mu Yan returned, and when he passed by Uno's room, he was playful and coughed heavily in the corridor.

"615 Tallinn Terriers ......"

"Ahem—"

"Six hundred...... Who!? ”

Uno got up from the bed with a carp and watched the door wary.

However, there was still no movement, as if the man was just joking with himself.

After calming down, Uno realized a serious problem.

"Where did I count?? Bastard—"

……

Mu Yan walked to the door, and as soon as he raised his hand, the door was opened by Sweet.

This usually rude and domineering young lady behaved extremely docile at this time, as if she had changed into a different person.

There were two "corpses" lying on the floor, Mika was placed on the bed by her, and the Tallinn man wrapped his tail around the lampstand as usual, and his body was like a hanging feather, floating back and forth above the lampstand, perhaps this was his unique way of cultivating.

"So," Mu Yan cleared his throat. "Then it's time for the trial, and each of us, except for Mr. Mika, who is in a coma, has a vote in our hands. Miss Sweet, for example, you can decide ...... in front of you."

"Kill him." Sweet's answer was categorical.

"I've heard so many cruel and vicious truths that Morabi has flaunted to me as a talking point with nowhere to talk. He had long since been consumed by his own greed, and the dungeon was filled with the mutilated corpses of his victims. He was not human, he was a beast in human skin, not even the Dementors gathered by negative energy were as perverted as him, he had no reason to live, and the waves of Nilfheim were not enough to wash away his sins. ”

This lady's mood swings are obviously not normal, but Mu Yan knows very well why this is.

From the yellow-skinned goblins, he learns what Morabi has been doing all these years to amass his wealth. Through the cabolas of high society, he met many wealthy people from other city-states, including artists from east of the River Styx who specialized in charcoal painting, merchants with fangs and horns, and the mysterious giant Lone Ranger.

These people have uneven strengths and very different hobbies, but they have one common characteristic, that is, they are rich. Moraby befriends them by using his dual status as a glittering coin supervisor and gray hat, inviting them to visit the "Ocean of Gold", where he ambushes good people for money and kills.

Because he has a gray hat in his hand, he can get the information of these people as soon as possible, and he picks a self-made man with no background, or a target from afar with mysterious whereabouts, and almost never shows any flaws. As for the Hosti officials, as long as there is no shortage of money in the coffers, they don't care about it at all, and Morabi is very cautious, only his henchmen and goblins know about these things, and even Kabole knows very little about it.

"Well, what about Kabole?" Mu Yan asked.

Sweet looked at Mika lying on the bed and shook her head.

"I don't know, my brother said he was going to break his neck with his own hands, but I think it's up to Master Glazer to decide."

"And what about you, Mr. Ricky?"

"Do you need to ask this question?" Ricky turned his back to him, not even turning around.

"Well, it looks like my vote doesn't make sense, then-"

"Don't you use your 'healing' spell to heal him?" Ricky suddenly turned around and asked with a smile, "While he's still breathing." ”

Mu Yan's mouth opened, and finally turned into a helpless smile.

"Even a scavenging raven will cherish its feathers and not get a fishy stench, not to mention that I'm still a wizard. My 'treatment' isn't as cheap as you think, Mr. Ricky. ”

Ricky spread his hands noncommittally.

"Can I trust you?"

"Do you need to ask this question?" Mu Yan also shrugged.

Sweet obviously didn't understand the conversation between the two, but she knew that this scumbag deserved to die.

"With this sword, ma'am."

Ricky leaned over and handed her the dagger Yaksha.

"The light from above will cleanse all sin, give him a good time."

Sweet took the dagger with both hands and cleanly struck the enemy, leaving not even a trail of blood on the sword.

Ricky propped himself on the lampstand with one hand, and rolled his sword back with a flick of his tail.

"So we went to great lengths to bring people back just so that this little girl could wipe her neck?" He asked.

"Of course not." Mu Yan pouted and defended: "I originally wanted to talk to him, but now there is no need for that." ”

In fact, the memories of the yellow-skinned goblin were a lot of burdens for him, and the other party's mixed memories could not be fully accepted by the database like when they came to Heru, and he needed to filter them one by one, so he saw too many things full of blood and torture, which really made him unbearable.

In addition, he also vaguely found that even if the recipient was unconscious, the subconscious would spontaneously resist his own prying eyes, but unfortunately this resistance was useless in front of the necromancer, and instead made him feel sadistic.

At first, he felt sick to his stomach and disgusted by this wanton humiliation of others, but then he gradually became numb, and even began to indulge in the pleasure of playing an abuser, indulging in the complete control of the weak.

He quickly realized that this was a sign of paranoia and tyranny, and one of the triggers for the necromancer's self-destruction, and he decisively abandoned these ideas. He had never wanted to be a mad lich like that.

……

As a Tallinn, Ricky is not as possessive of the River Styx as the Hipsters, and he didn't ask any more questions after listening to Mu Yan's explanation.

"Then let's inspect the loot, it's one of my few hobbies."

He peeled off Moraby's three rings and threw them to Mu Yan.

"No, no, no, it's your commission, Mr. Ricky. I barely had any strength, and you deserve it. Mu Yan threw it back again.

Ricky was a little surprised, he tilted his head to look at Mu Yan.

"Don't you see how many gold coins are in here? Don't you need money to buy a ferry ticket? ”

Mu Yan shrugged his shoulders and said, "Think of a way again, it's a big deal to go to Geoor Port to trouble you." ”

Ricky flipped off the lampstand and sat on the cabinet with his legs crossed, just enough to look at him.

The people of Tallinn had bright eyes and sharp eyes, as if they wanted to see through what Mu Yan was thinking.

It was a long time before he spoke again.

"I'm a person who hates trouble, so you'd better let me do something else."

As he spoke, the Tallinn threw him a piece of jade-white paper with a picture of a ghost ship churning in the waves.

This is......

Tickets!?

Although he had never seen the ticket of the Nagfar, Mu Yan felt that it was definitely not simple to look like such a high-end thing.

"Did Uno agree?"

Somewhat surprised, he looked up and asked.

"It's mine, it's not about him." Ricky twirls a ring around his finger, Moraby's "armored body" fingers resemble a swollen carrot, and the ring is like a small bracelet to Ricky.

"As you said, we are in a partnership, so the money is not a commission, but your bid, this ticket belongs to me personally, and now I will sell it to you."

Mu Yan understood what he meant, and was a little surprised and moved.

"Mr. Ricky, I observed that you were very interested in Moraby's fake meat just now, why don't you give it to you now?"

“…… Get lost! ”