There was a brief silence in the alley after the man's name was spoken.

The man was silent.

"Follow me."

The exotic French waiter glanced at Zhao Qian, who was surrounded by smoke, and did not speak again.

Turning around, a head of brown hair leaves only the back of the head of the mixed-race nobleman who is attractive to women on the outside.

The two walked inside, and Galileo, who was outside, also reacted a little, but he saw his old friend with his hands behind his back, making a gesture that had been discussed by the two of them before, meaning not to act rashly.

In the long and narrow alleys of France, the morning light gradually shone down. If there is no one to lead the way, there is a sense of intricacy entering the maze.

At least Zhao Qian followed all the way, and he passed by three forks. From time to time, there are T-shaped or cross-shaped lanes, and the most common thing you encounter on the road is passers-by who are in a hurry, begging for a living.

The way these people dress can tell more or less their standard of living, it is not very good, and even a little bad.

After a little further walking, the Freemason stopped.

This is the plebeian area of the city of Paris, which is theoretically a gathering place for the middle and lower classes with a standard of living. Security here can only be considered average, but it is better than a real slum.

"Da! Click

Da, da"

Standing on the stone steps in front of the door of a room, the waiter knocked on a closed door.

"Click."

The wooden door opened, but the man stood outside the door, motioning for Zhao to move forward. There is not a single person in this alley, and it is clear that this place has been carefully chosen.

"Aren't you going in?"

He asked, squinting at the Freemason in front of him. The man's expression was flat. And, looking inside from the outside room, there was no one in the room.

"Nope."

The waiter replied that the unfinished cigarette in his mouth had been thrown away at the second fork.

There are more between his eyebrows, but it is also the glare and sleepiness of the sun after ordinary people stay up late.

"I'm only responsible for leading the way."

The man walked away without looking back.

Looking at this guy's back, Zhao Qian had no idea of making a move.

Because he could feel that there seemed to be a looming snooping in some corner of the place.

The guy who peeked was clever and had a stealthy eye.

The man hiding in the shadows clearly knew that the concentration of his gaze was easily felt.

The people in the house?

Zhao Qian stood outside the door of the house, hesitating.

Go in, or, don't go in?

But now it seems that there is no choice.

Walking up the stone steps outside the house, Zhao Qian pushed the door in.

"Squeak!"

Sunlight sneaked through the slowly opening wooden door.

He watched, looking through the crack in the door at the pitch black surroundings inside.

When Zhao Qian opened that door completely.

"Poof!"

When he looked up, he noticed that the room that had been dim had suddenly lit up.

The candlestick hung from the ceiling, and a few half-burned candles lit the flames.

Sunlight streamed in through the open door, and the room was eerily empty, with a round table and a few wooden chairs around it.

Zhao Qian closed the door behind him and looked at the contents of the room.

In addition to these things, there is also a painting hanging by the window. Looking at the appearance of the painting, it should be a sub-oil painting.

The window next to it had been firmly boarded to death, and only a few rays of sunlight could penetrate it.

In the center of the picture is a compass and a Bible underneath.

Zhao Qian looked at this painting, which seemed confusing to outsiders. Painted on it is the emblem of Freemasonry.

It was placed on a stone throne, and under the steps of the throne was a feast. One after another, familiar characters often appear in student textbooks, doing their own things in them.

Some people are riding horses, some are standing in the wasteland, some are writing and painting, and some are in palaces.

But the person who painted this picture did a good job of piecing together their respective scenes.

Interesting.

Zhao Qian didn't speak, just looked at the painting and lost interest.

Because there is something else.

A stone-colored door.

It is difficult for ordinary people to find it in this bright environment of this house.

But he noticed it anyway.

Because of the faint sound of the wind and the sound of breathing.

Someone?

Zhao Qian tentatively knocked on the door in front of him, and the door opened.

He walked in, but it was another room.

The same arrangement, round tables, chairs, as well as paintings.

But the most fundamental difference from the room behind him was that there was a man, a woman with a graceful figure and a beautiful face.

He looked at her back.

The man was standing under the painting, quietly using a small silver cigarette stick, and his eyes were swallowing clouds and spitting mist.

Yes, a woman who feels like she exudes nobility. She was wearing silk clothes that were only available in the Far East, highlighting her unique figure of a Western woman.

The breathing she had just heard was supposed to be the sound of her smoking.

Zhao Qian had an answer in his heart.

"Pretty good, isn't it?"

"What?"

The traveler asked, and he couldn't help but lose his recognition of the woman. After several world adventures, he felt more and more that there was no need to save on travel spots.

"Spider."

Following her gaze, he realized that she was actually looking, and in the corner next to the painting, a spider was building a web.

The little insect was clumsily doing what it instinctively did in this light-filled corner, not caring that two behemoths were watching it silently.

"Whew."

With another puff of smoke, the woman turned around and looked at Zhao Qian in front of her. Under her beautiful eyes, the young man in front of her seemed to have no secrets as if he was undressed.

"You're not a White Lotus at all, are you?"

The breezy words in her mouth made Zhao Qian opposite her pupils shrink.

Subconsciously, he wanted to take out his weapon from the ticket.

The sound of the prompt in his ears made his eyes even colder.