Thursday morning, 15 Minsk Street.

Crane, who rarely slept until he woke up naturally, washed up step by step.

Then he prepared himself two slices of toast, a piece of butter, a serving of bacon and a cup of coffee for today's breakfast.

He picked up the morning newspaper of Beckland, which he had ordered, and planned to have breakfast while reading the newspaper at a leisurely pace.

Unfolding the newspaper, he immediately saw an eye-catching headline in his eyes:

The Great Pirate Zilingers was shot dead by the Duke's bodyguards in Beckland

Is Zielingers dead? The nobles are not as unbearable as Mr. Hanged Man said, but they can still do something...... Crane thought silently.

But he immediately complained to himself in his heart:

As the behind-the-scenes boss of the Tarot Society, I'm afraid I should be the last to know about it, and I only found out about it by reading the newspaper, which is a shame for the people behind the scenes......

Just as Crane was silently complaining, the bell hanging in his door suddenly jingled.

Well? Do small ads work so well? It's only been a day, Crane thought with some surprise.

He stood up, cleaned up the breakfast on the table, and straightened his clothes to make himself look more serious and reliable.

As he walked towards the door, Crane tried to perceive the image of the visitors outside, which allowed him to be mentally prepared to organize the language he would use to communicate with customers.

But strangely, in Crane's perception, it was as if there was nothing on the outside.

This alarmed Crane.

He reached into his pocket and grabbed the flaming blow that Gawain had sold him.

At this time, Crane also realized a problem in his heart.

That is, in addition to the magical item of Flame Strike, he probably needs a pistol as a regular weapon.

Otherwise, judging from Crane's previous experiments on the gray fog, the lethality of this dagger is indeed great, but the damage to the surrounding environment will also be very serious.

Especially at home, you can't use this thing, otherwise you don't want this rented house.

At that time, I am afraid that the compensation paid to the landlord alone will not be able to pay off if Crane is sold.

Crane cautiously opened the door and prepared for the unexpected.

Unexpectedly, he saw an unexpected person standing at the door.

"Mr. Azik!?"

Azik stood at the door and smiled gently:

"Crane, long time no see, won't you invite me in and sit?"

"No, please come in, Mr. Azik." Crane hurriedly opened the door and welcomed Mr. Azizk in.

The two sat down on the sofa in the living room, and Azk took out a box of cigars and asked with a smile:

"Mind that? Also, why don't you try one? ”

"Feel free to do so, as for me, forget it." Crane declined Mr. Azik's kindness.

He groaned and asked curiously:

"Mr. Azik, how did you know that I came back from the dead?"

Azk took a puff on his cigar and said as usual:

"I went back to the cemetery to visit you two days ago, but I sensed that your tomb was empty, and when I thought of the miracles in you, I guessed that you should have come back to life.

"In addition, I have some special means, and it is relatively simple to deliberately find your whereabouts after resurrection."

Crane nodded, accepting the statement.

Because he thinks that for a strong man like Mr. Azik, a thin layer of dirt and coffin boards will definitely not be an obstacle, and it is naturally not a problem to find someone.

"By the way, in the process of looking for you, I also killed a person." Azk said softly, as if he was saying that he had killed a chicken.

As he spoke, he pulled out a glove made of human skin from his bosom.

"Wriggling hunger? It turns out that Ziringus was killed by you. Crane said in some surprise.

"Yes, this item reminds me of something that is useless to me now, do you want it?" Azik asked, taking a drag on his cigar.

"I ...... I'm afraid I don't have anything of the same value in me right now. Crane looked at the wriggling hunger and struggled for a long time, but finally did not accept the item.

This was different from the Flame Strike, the value of the dagger that Gawain gave him was still within his means, and Crane was sure that he would be able to save up the money as soon as possible, so he accepted the weapon.

But the value of this human skin glove, Crane didn't even have to calculate it, he knew that it was definitely not something he could afford in a short period of time.

"Okay, I'll keep it for you, and when you're sure to buy it, just tell me.

"You don't seem to have the means to reach me, though." Azik groaned for a moment, and soon seemed to think of something.

He untied an ornament from the left cuff, a delicate, antique bronze whistle with many strange patterns that gave it a mystical charm.

"This is an item I took with me when I woke up in Beckland, and if you blow it, you can summon a messenger that is unique to me." Azk pinched the brass whistle and explained in detail.

After so many years, this copper whistle can still be used? It's a magical item, right? Crane was both surprised and glad that he could contact Mr. Azik at any time in the future.

Glancing at Crane, Azik brought the brass whistle to his lips and set out for a demonstration.

He puffed out his cheeks and blew hard.

There was no sound in the room, but Crane instantly felt cold and cold.

He tapped his left tooth quickly, and saw that hazy white bones were thrown out of the floor next to him, forming a strange fountain.

A few seconds later, there was an illusory monster in the living room.

It was made of white bones, with pitch-black flames flickering in its eye sockets, and it was nearly four meters tall, looking down at Crane, who was less than seven or five meters tall.

Seeing that the other party was almost piercing the ceiling, Crane flashed a thought in a daze:

"Mr. Azik, is your 'messenger' too exaggerated? Gawain's puppy doesn't seem to be a level at all compared to this......"

Azik didn't notice his thoughts at all, and smiled:

"After giving it the letter, blow the brass whistle again, and that will end the summons, and it will soon be able to deliver the letter to me, in a stealthy way.

With that, Azk flicked his wrist and threw the old bronze whistle at the opposite side.

Crane reached out with his right hand and grasped it accurately, only to feel cold but soft to the touch.

Thanks to the "Joker" potion...... He breathed a sigh of relief, wiped the whistle clean, and blew hard.

Silently, the giant messenger disintegrated into hazy white bones and burrowed into the floor.