Guillotine tavern in Paris, France. Zhao sat down in place after a barbecue and a large glass of ale.

He took a 50-franc silver coin from his money bag of his somewhat warm clothes and placed it on the table, waiting for the waiter to come and get change.

The purchasing power of the franc is still average, and it cannot be said to be very valuable.

Because the Third Reich had just been established on September 4, the currency was arguably the most depreciating symbol of value in times of turmoil. Now it can only be regarded as a barely recovering.

But in the eyes of some trouser men who have suffered from social unrest, even a small amount of money can be regarded as a huge amount of money. What's more, there was a crashing sound of a few big francs in the money bag. It's like a sacred music that only God in heaven can hear.

The candles in the tavern were still bright, and it was getting dark.

Zhao Qian spent an afternoon looking for something that was rumored in the market. But because of his appearance and other factors, it can be said that he got nothing.

Now, he can only rely on some of his skills.

He stared intently at the cold guillotine. According to the introduction from the waiter's mouth, this big guy seems to have done something amazing. One of them was the execution of his king's master, Louis XVI.

"For you." Zhao Qian took the change and put twenty of them in the hand of the waiter who was looking for change.

"Merci." The blonde waitress with some curly stubble said.

"By the way, this city, is there any strange rumor lately? I want to go there. He asked, as if pretending to be casual, after tipping.

"The Louvre." The waiter replied, with a courtesy smile on his lips.

This was one of the most heard answers from Zhao Qian this afternoon, along with some other nonsense.

He tried to ask for directions to the so-called witcher's headquarters, but the person asked either said he hadn't heard of it or took him to a bar. It's as if they're covered up by something, and even the newspapers don't report about it.

Eventually, he thought about what he had experienced.

Creatures of darkness and witchers and the like, after all, belong to the dark side of the city. They tried to erase the traces they had left behind, but someone would know.

Since it is the dark side of a city, some people naturally know something.

Just like in the real world, the average patrol officer may not be very aware of the flow of people on his or her ground. But the gangster leader on the street knows exactly how many new and unfamiliar faces have been added. Especially in an era when this kind of messaging is still in its infancy. Message, sometimes life.

He glanced at the large triangular axe, turned and disappeared into the darkening night.

"Old Royal Guillotine" (Condition: Broken)

"Place of Origin: France, Paris Royal Torture Apparatus Manufacturing Department."

"Height: 3 meters."

"Drop height of the device: 2.2 meters."

"Device Rarity: White."

"Attack: 180

220”

"Material: Pig iron, tempered by hand thousands of times."

"Add-on: Old Wooden Manual Valve Rocker."

"Weight: 40 kilograms."

"Conditions for the use of the device: The strength must be at least 8 points."

"Install an additional special effect: Torturers with less than 200 HP will die."

"How many points does this device have: 3" (no stupid person will run around with this big dick)

"Evaluation: Use it to deal with your enemies, and they can use it to scorch you."

"This device cannot be carried out of this world."

That's a series of hints about the thing he got from his ticket.

Having experienced an era when supernatural powers that were not of the church were to be burned at the stake, I believe that any demon hunter would become cautious.

The bar waiter whistled and wiped the water stains from the freshly washed wine glasses with a clean rag.

He glanced at the thugs who had followed the gentleman who had just made a decent move. He shook his head helplessly. He really can't control this.

After all, the rich people today still have too little social experience, don't they understand the simple truth that too much money cannot be placed in front of the world's eyes.

Zhao Qian was walking on this somewhat dark road, and he could still hear a few footsteps following behind him. The perception of 16 points can even make him vaguely feel the hostility of others.

The streets of Paris in the 19th century were still a little dark. There were only a few wandering warblers on the street and a few pedestrians who didn't know what to do. Although there was a certain understanding of electricity during this period, it had not yet been widely extended. Edison's world's first central power plant was built in 1875 in the north of Paris.

So, it's more about candlelight with less illumination.

Walking forward, Zhao Qian turned into a small alley next to him. The bright light in front of the street shop reflected on his side face. It's the nouveau riche kid.

Maybe he took the money he stole from his master.

The guys behind him who pretended to be on the way naturally followed.

As soon as I turned into the darkness, my eyes adjusted to the darkness from a place of some light. The two sturdy thugs who walked in front were greeted by a very flat fist.

The sale was fast, and it was a direct punch to the tattooed guy's abdomen on the left's arm, and then an elbow to the small stomach of the guy on the right. Both of them were taller than Zhao Qian.

He looked coldly at the three people who were standing in place. They looked at the yellow-skinned boy with vigilance. One of the short men even drew a dagger, reflecting a faint light in the dark alley.

Rushing head-on, Zhao Qian could feel the advantage that the double increase brought to him.

Take the two thugs who fell to the ground, according to the way he used to hit others with this kind of force, those two guys should still be able to move. At least you can stand up. How could it be like now, there was no ability to move at all, and they fell to the ground like two dead dogs and couldn't move.

Almost before the two thugs standing in front of them could fully react, their fists were already swinging out.

"Collapse." Hardly received the fist of one of them, and the man smashed on Zhao Qian's chest with a muffled sound.

The movements are fairly fast, and even if they can make some simple reflexes to dodge the moves, it won't help.

"Poof", the sound of the dagger breaking the wind stabbed straight up.

The short man held the dagger when he saw Zhao Qian rushing forward, waiting for this opportunity to sneak attack.

But he didn't hide.

He subconsciously took a step forward, his right hand grabbed the man's right hand holding the dagger like an iron hoop, and his leg was raised at that moment, and he kicked out low. After all, it is relatively common to fight in the street with a short blade, so he hasn't panicked yet. As for the one just now, it's more like a stroke of genius.

The three men fell to their knees as if they had been struck by a hammer. Especially the short man, who rolled backwards a few times before stopping. He was kicked in the abdomen by Zhao Qian, and now he fell to the ground, rolling his eyes constantly.

"Hey, don't play dead." He stepped forward and tapped the guy with his foot. Zhao Qian could almost confirm that this guy was the boss of this group of people, and his eyesight on the streets for a long time couldn't be fake. No matter what time period it is.

"Ugh."

The short man didn't answer, closed his eyes, and fainted. Even if Zhao Qian trampled on him with his foot, he didn't wake up. It's really painful.

"You." Zhao Qian casually found another person, and this situation was obviously much better than that short man. "Who's the boss of your area?"

He wiped the stains on the other man's shoes that stood on his own shoes, which was not hygienic modern. This was a brief period of the 19th century, when ignorance and sickness and squalor almost went hand in hand.

On this street, for example, the air is filled with a stench that is unbearable for those with a habit of cleanliness.

"Old Jack." The man replied weakly, and the other person who was shoe polished by Zhao Qian directly pretended to be dead, without saying a word, for fear that this fat sheep in their eyes one second would notice him the next second.

"Pick up someone and take me to him. I'll never get them up for the rest of them. He said, but what he said made everyone's heart chill. There was no bloodthirsty and cruel smile, and his tone was indescribably calm.

"You decide for yourselves." Zhao Qian stepped aside.

He just stared coldly at the four thugs who gritted their teeth and staggered to their feet. It's not cruelty, it's something that these street guys have to endure. In this age of medical technology, a broken hand or foot means that you are a real cripple.

And the crippled bastards of this era also mean that you have stepped into death.

It is only when he sees through these things that he will study seriously and get admitted to a university.

It's like they're going to rob themselves. As long as you succeed, then your best result is to be beaten and robbed. And if he dares to resist, then he faces the threat of death.

Not to mention that he is a yellow-skinned foreigner, even if he is a white-skinned foreigner.

In this kind of metropolis, there are more people who disappear every day, and there are no fewer people. No one will notice.

Zhao Qian didn't go to see the brawl between the four people. He searched in his mind for the message from the ticket.

"Based on your perception, you will get detailed statistics of the battle."

"Replay of the battle message begins."

"Your boxing inflicts 36 physical damage on Old Jack's minions (damage bonus from abdominal vital attacks), and minions lose half of their health, temporarily incapacitating them to fight."

"Your elbow gives Old Jack's minions 48 physical damage (damage bonus from Vital Abdominal Attack), and Miniboss's minions lose two-thirds of their health, temporarily incapacitating them in combat."

"Your punches inflict 36 ...... on Old Jack's Minor Boss"

"The Minor Boss's men dealt you 12 actual damage."

"Your kick gives the mini-boss 58 physical damage, and your innatural ability: Counterattack (Passive) activates to force 25 damage, and you actually deal 83 actual damage. The small boss fell into a state of serious injury and temporarily lost the ability to fight. ”