Black Sail
Chapter 158: CLVIII. Undead

Chapter 158: CLVIII. Undead

The next day.

As soon as he woke up in the morning,

Liszt already knew where the art exhibition was.

Because last night, everyone had a damn good time.

They all visited the street prostitutes in the local slums, and these pirates certainly didn’t care—breasts, hips, young enough, even if not that pretty, didn’t matter as long as they were enjoyable to converse with.

This art exhibition had stirred up quite a fuss in Duguli; everyone knew about it except for the newcomers.

It was rumored that the original manuscript of "Acania Travelogue" would be showcased.

Although it wasn’t a very ancient artifact, nor the most valuable, its fame made a great lure.

Nobles and gentry could join the auction at the end of the exhibition, and naturally, there was a VIP entrance for them.

The influence of Alan Royal Court had soared, reflecting in the diminished power of the local privileged class. Nobles indeed had privileges, but not many.

When an official killed a commoner, he still had to face lawsuits.

Unlike in Beima Duchy, where they could kill you senselessly, exterminate more if they felt like it. It wasn’t that Beima Duchy lacked laws to protect civilians, but it was like beef on instant noodle packaging—existent only on paper; the corruption was as vast as the damned Boundary Sea, a single wave symbolizing a shattered world, even the Immortal King would face dangers amidst it, making it basically a wholesale market of corruption, with such darkness, even typing blindly could hit the right keys.

This art exhibition wasn’t just welcoming the wealthy.

Being a large public art exhibition aimed to showcase the cultural allure of Duguli and enhance its influence, it was an invisible appreciation of real estate—packaged elegantly, it made genuine Alan elites reside in Duguli, living elsewhere was unsuitable, and all citizens could join the exhibition.

To prevent congestion and not to overcrowd the venue to the point of suffocation, not everyone could come.

Those lower-class adventurers were recklessly dauntless.

Jumping off a five-story building, not dying but breaking a nerve and feeling rather pleased.

Such people could come in and engage in petty thievery, their extraordinarily low qualities might also corrupt manners.

Apart from professionals related to the arts and teachers and students from high-level institutions here, the other slots for the exhibition were drawn—a pure opportunity for onlookers could roll out.

Thus, Duguli recently flaunted this quota, and the street prostitutes, having a lot of idle time recently, participated in the draws, even some of them got it, signaling they would engage in some business.

Mika commented sarcastically, are you joining in the damn hype?

He asked his prostituted contact her friends, to purchase five spots directly, one for a Golden Dragon.

Mika had already secured the location and entry tickets for the exhibition.

When the five tickets were laid in front of Liszt,

Liszt couldn’t help but muse how visiting prostitutes was indeed a study—a network study, sociology.

Acquired art always feels superficial unless one immerses fully.

Although entry tickets were secured, the final auction remained an issue; however, being fairly wealthy, after checking his balance, he certainly could blend in.

The exhibition was divided into a public section and a private section.

The public section contained items under the jurisdiction of Alan Royal Court, not for sale, borrowed out, certainly containing major items, some more valuable than those in the private section but many of which held more historical than economic value.

These artifacts, sitting there undisturbed, could create far-reaching impacts.

The private section, however, contained items either owned by the hosts or by third parties through the host’s profiteering, and were freely tradeable.

Liszt needed to find a way into the private section to catch Sefer.

"So, the plan is clear, by tomorrow, we’ll disguise ourselves, change our appearances, and once at the venue, even if Sefer is not in the private section, he’ll surely attend the final auction; we’ll lure him to a secluded spot, drug him with sedatives, and then tie him up and bring him back."

Liszt dared not imagine the situation with the Junlin Sword’s life-altering seat, already powerful enough; if one day he truly collected them all,

He would conquer territories just as the Empress did seven hundred years ago, thereby genuinely creating a never-ending legacy of the sword.

He had planned to scout the venue in advance, but right now, it was completely sealed off, preparations underway, all because the relics were extremely precious and heavily guarded.

He presumed tomorrow, there would also be numerous security personnel.

But it didn’t matter, his objective was the person, not those worthless trinkets.

What good stuff could there be? Those two stones in his hand, if he were to calculate their worth.

They were equivalent to what Liu Laosan wore on his head when he declared himself emperor on Earth.

Those were the ultimate antiques, not something to be touched lightly.

"So there’s nothing to do today."

Mika didn’t take this kidnapping seriously; Black Sail had done all sorts of rough jobs, a kidnapping was just a snap for them, not even as dangerous as last night.

After breakfast.

The smell of the slums was just that, don’t expect any bicycles, then he returned to the upstairs guest room to check on the Heroic Level adventurers.

Gawain had already woken up, and after Meredith explained the situation to him, his mind was baffled, had he become a prisoner and also needed to help them... rob a train?

Morison was watching them from the side.

Meredith had calmed down, but Gawain still hadn’t.

Seeing the operation growing in scale, Morison found the situation increasingly interesting. Under Liszt’s terms, these people were merely tools, forcibly binded mercenaries, and the first job was even free.

Mika brought breakfast to Morison, who quickly devoured it.

"You’ve got some nerve, daring to come kill me, but you guys are capable, I respect that. If it was just flunkies, I’d have slaughtered you all."

Liszt sat in his chair, watching Gawain with interest. He really owed it to Swan for bringing him along; otherwise, God knows what would have happened to this guy.

His head would have been taken to the Cross Alliance for money.

Gawain was very weak now, Meredith, wanting to see Goria, also tried to persuade him. Weber, the big fool, couldn’t move for a month and still hadn’t woken up; it mainly depended on Gawain’s decision.

"This is ludicrous, either die or become a pirate... ’Oath of Loyalty’ means helping you rob a train."

Gawain had never encountered such a strange situation, glancing at the dew that had landed on the back of his hand.

"Now that I’m a prisoner, it seems I don’t have other options."

Gawain pondered briefly, then agreed provisionally.

How could Liszt not know what he was thinking? It was all verbal promises, which could be reneged on at any time. He was probably inwardly delighted, thinking he could turn during the train robbery and annihilate Black Sail, not only earning a bounty but also gaining favor and promotion from the Royal Court.

But how could Liszt give him that opportunity?

Tomorrow, "Gawain" and "Weber" were going to kidnap Mr. Sefer, there certainly wouldn’t be a Warrant so soon. Once Mr. Sefer returned, the scene would be quite different.

"It’s good that you understand. Your leg’s injured, you can’t move for a while, and now, write a letter to your other companions, telling them to cease their actions."

Liszt was concerned about Fen’s side, that was where the main show was. Fen needed to survey the environment and make specific plans without any mistakes.

"You told him all that?"

Gawain incredulously looked at Meredith. Being restricted by others was one thing, but to go to such an extent? Did that woman named Goria really have such great allure?

"I didn’t tell him."

Meredith’s brows were tightly furrowed.

Gawain understood then, he had been tricked by Liszt.

Liszt looked at his left hand.

The weather grew colder, and every winter, the scar on his face would start to throb faintly.

Ghosts in the nightmare.

The Executioner wore a hood, fearing the revenge of the spirits, covering their faces so ghosts couldn’t find them.

And he.

Was a living ghost.