After two days of snowfall, a brief period of sunny weather seemed to dispel the gloom that had hung over the city-state, and the frost woke up again as usual – snow ploughers and snow melting equipment began to clear snow from the main roads, old high-pressure gas pipes and power systems were once again put to the test, and factories and public transport systems were back in operation.

The sound of all kinds of cars and horses and machines gradually flourished with the sunrise.

However, beneath this gradually awakening surface, a strange and tense atmosphere gradually spreads in the city - even ordinary people in the city have finally noticed this change in atmosphere.

First it was news from the newspapers, and the emergency release of the control notice by the town hall made those who were more knowledgeable smell uneasy, and then all kinds of rumors from the coastal neighborhoods about the appearance of the Sea Mist Fleet near the city-state, and then all kinds of news spread through the streets.

The recent frequent movements of the polis, the presence of guards around several cemeteries, the terrifying news of the "return of the dead" that had been circulating in the city since a month ago, all of these unsettling things seemed to suddenly come together and began to spread quietly through the city.

The city-states on the boundless sea are like crowded pigeon coops, separated by a vast sea between cities, but people are close to each other, and there is nothing more difficult than passing messages between them, and naturally there is nothing easier than passing messages within them.

But even so, life still passed, and the uneasy news only spread through the streets, and the citizens went out and went to work as usual, at most talking about the strange atmosphere in the city at the moment while squeezing into the bus or meeting in the tavern - a little stress was not enough to disturb the functioning of a city-state.

At the end of the day, people living in this world are accustomed to the gloom of life, and for them, strange things happen in the city is the norm, and cultist sabotage and the occasional night freak are part of daily life—-— and a city that is still peaceful and peaceful after dark is not normal for them.

At the junction of Cemetery No. 4 and Oak Street, a tavern called "Golden Flute" is gradually becoming lively.

As a cheap tavern for the general public, the Golden Flute is the best place to stop before going to work – not only alcohol, but also decent coffee and a light breakfast to satisfy your stomach and ward off the cold, and a few chats during breakfast are a little pastime before the start of a busy day.

The tavern entertainer was busy shuttling between several round tables, the clerk receiving customers behind the bar, the warm yellow light pouring from the roof, dispelling the winter chill, and a middle-aged man with a slender face and yellow hair sat on a chair not far behind the bar, casually flipping through the newspaper in his hand while keeping an eye on the situation in the store out of the corner of his eye.

The shop was a bit noisy, with the occasional rough joke or unbridled swear word in between—most of the people who dined here were not the so-called "upper class citizens", but more ordinary people who had traveled from the lower town to work in the industrial ring, and they gathered here to take advantage of the breakfast time to discuss what was happening in the lower town or the factory area, or to judge the recent changes in the city-state.

Their views are mostly superficial and boring, and no one pays attention to their opinions about the city.

As long as they don't fight in the store, it's fine.

The middle-aged store manager, with sleek yellow hair, flipped the newspaper to the next page and yawned a little boredly.

Then he felt as if his surroundings were quiet—and then, as if something was blocking the light from above.

The store manager looked up and saw a burly figure standing in front of him.

The other party was dressed in a pitch-black trench coat reminiscent of nightfall, with a high stand-up collar that obscured most of his face, and a wide-brimmed top hat pressed down like a dark cloud, shielding all prying eyes from the outside world, and in the gap between the clothes, all that could be seen was layers of bandages.

The majestic gaze was hidden in the shadow of the low-pressed top hat.

A sense of coercion that is difficult to ignore from a visual point alone greeted him, and the middle-aged store manager with sleek, yellow-haired almost instantly, felt a heart room, and a look of panic involuntarily appeared in his eyes, and his first reaction was to mistake the other party for a clergyman of the Death Sect - because those pious priests liked this kind of "bandage dress" that was a little excessive for ordinary people, but then he realized that the man in black did not wear the triangular mark of the Church, nor did he carry the special cane that the guardians standard.

After a moment of panic, the middle-aged store manager forcibly calmed himself, and he saw that there were three other people behind the burly figure, namely a young lady who was also amazingly tall, an old man who looked kind, and a blonde woman with a veil on her face and a noble and mysterious temperament, and he couldn't help but think quickly in his heart.

It's a "guest" who comes specifically for himself.,Look at this dress is by no means good.,The kind of heaviness that faintly exudes can even make you breathless.... Is the secret sheriff in the heart of the city? Or is it someone sent by other forces on the cold sea? Why did they come to themselves? Threaten, co-opt, or ..... Got something to ask for?

He put the newspaper aside in his hand, got up calmly, and looked up at the man in black in front of him: "Who are you looking for?"

"Mr. Nemo Wilkins," Duncan noticed the panic and nervousness in the middle-aged man's eyes in front of him, obviously forced by his own momentum, but this was one of his intentional actions One of the other party's reactions is being observed, which can expose the most real emotional changes of the other person, and will help determine whether a person has been affected by cognitive interference or memory modification, "Is this your name?"

"Everyone here knows my name," Nemo Wilkins nodded, waving his hand to the clerk not far away, "How many of you are looking for me?" But I'm just an honest businessman......

"The sea has been foggy and windy lately," Duncan said slowly, reaching out in his bosom for the map of the city-state that Tirion had prepared himself, "We need a good wine to warm the stomach—preferably to warm the hearts of the dead."

The moment he heard the phrase "the sea is often foggy and the wind is cold", Nemo's breathing changed slightly, and then his eyes fell on the map of the city-state.

The "store manager" hid all his emotions and eye changes very well, in fact, except for the changes in breathing and heartbeat at that moment, there was nothing unusual about him from the outside, but even such a small reaction still did not escape Vanna's eyes.

"Looks like it's him." Vanna whispered.

Duncan nodded lightly and put away the folded map, "Is there a place on the second floor?"

"The upstairs is full," Nemo shook his head, "come with me."

With that, he stepped out of the counter and led a few uninvited guests to a door by the stairs.

The tavern was still noisy, and even if anyone noticed the movement at the counter, no one paid much attention to what was going on.

Duncan and his party followed Nemo, and they passed through the slightly low wooden door and entered what appeared to be a passage to the warehouse behind the store, but then burrowed into another door in the middle of the passage and walked down a sloping ramp for a long distance - until they felt like they were far away from the surface of the tavern, and then they stopped in front of a dark wooden door.

"This place is really deep enough." Morris couldn't help but grunt.

"There's no harm in being cautious, no one related to the Sea Mist Fleet is welcome in this city," Nemo Wilkins said as he walked to the door, "Enemies are everywhere—even if it's been half a century."

"How did you dig up such a place under the noses of the city-state authorities?" Vanna's focus is different from the others, as an Inquisitor, she is more concerned with the skill of a "gray middleman" to hide in the city-state, "How do you get the stones and dirt out of a tunnel like this long underground under a tavern? How is the movement hidden during the excavation?"

Nemo Wilkins turned his head slightly and glanced at his figure

The tall, white-haired lady said with a smile in her tone, "It's easy—there's no need to dig, it's part of the Frosty Underground Waterway."

As the words fell, the dark door was opened, and with a creaking sound, the glow of the gas lamp came into the eyes of Duncan and his party.

Along with it, there was also the faint sound of running water coming from nowhere.

Duncan's gaze looked past the door and saw that on the other side was an extraordinarily large "hall", which seemed to be the intersection of old sewers, and in the distance there were corridors that extended into the darkness, and tables, chairs, beds, and shelves were placed in the corners of the hall, which seemed to be habitable.

It can even be stationed with quite a few people.