Super Righteous Player
Chapter 1038 - 96: It’s a Cliché to Have Your Identity Guessed When in Disguise

Chapter 1038: Chapter 96: It’s a Cliché to Have Your Identity Guessed When in Disguise

"People die and sink into the sea, emotions mustn’t be shed excessively..."

Annan blinked.

He had heard a similar proverb, but it was in the Winter Duchy.

"...In our place, there is also a similar saying, ’People die and are buried in the soil, grief must not be excessive.’"

"Ah, grief..."

Isaac scoffed, "That kind of thing isn’t popular here.

"Although it’s always said that people from Winter are barbaric and brutal, people from The Holy Nation are rigid and arrogant, and people from Noah are cowardly and greedy... and those underground can’t even be called human. But if you ask me, the biggest problem lies right here in Dennisiowa.

"When relatives and friends are murdered, what they think of is not grief — but revenge. You can’t rely on the King or the Privy Council, and there’s no such thing as justice. The gunfire in the alleys, the poisoned dagger behind your back, and the cannon fire from the depths of the sea are the true forms of justice."

"...I suppose that’s not a problem. It’s understandable."

Annan shook his head, "When people can’t attain ’complete justice’, avenging their kin becomes a form of ’imperfect justice’. It’s an ultimate means out of sheer necessity."

"That could at most be considered a pale and hollow justice."

Isaac let out a light sigh, his face less troubled now, "But what’s sad is... this has become Dennisiowa’s ’entire justice’.

"In a place where you can only rely on yourself to avenge a blood feud, even if you’re harmless, don’t commit crimes, and merely live your own days... you might still die suddenly any day. In a place where you can only trust yourself, and even your parents and children are unreliable, and your brothers and sisters might betray you at any moment... there is no place for ’grief’, a word too merciful.

"And moreover... sinking the dead into the sea is merely to avoid trouble."

"Trouble?"

Annan asked, puzzled.

"He’s referring to the undead, sir."

The stall owner answered Annan’s question.

"If a body is not buried in time—or hung for public display too long, it might become a vengeful spirit if the ’funeral’ isn’t completed... Whether that really happens, no one knows. But around here, nobody’s foolish, and everyone prefers to err on the side of caution, being very wise."

After the crowd had dispersed, Annan and Isaac, who still stood in the same spot, were conspicuously visible. Thus, the stall owner quickly realized that they must have come on purpose, rather than being mere passersby.

But as the owner of the gambling stall, what he was best at was "reading people."

Who could be offended, who could not, whom he needed to eliminate quickly, and whom he had to treat with utmost courtesy...

And watching as the stall owner approached.

The people around immediately dispersed further—fearing they might overhear something they shouldn’t. The two children had already been taken back inside the gambling stall. They had been "sold away" and were now the stall’s "personal property."

They either shrunk back inside the gambling stall or stood far away at the street corner on guard. They stood by a puddle of fresh, warm blood, idly chatting as the street became deserted in an instant.

"Sir... have you come here to investigate something?"

The stall owner asked politely.

He glanced at the twin-snake staff that Annan was holding, as well as the fluttering off-the-shoulder robe, and the numerous geometric pendants hanging on Isaac..., and bowed his head very respectfully.

Normal people going out on the streets wouldn’t wear such eccentric and impractical clothes, let alone carry such a fancy staff—topped with a crystal ball even larger than one’s own fist, from which one could even see flowing light!

And he had seen clothes with geometric patterns like those before. They were unique attire for the instructors of the Jade Tower... Generally speaking, the more types of geometric patterns there were, the higher the status they symbolized.

But this person had almost every kind of pendant on his chest.

...Could it be that the Tower Master or Tower’s Child of the Jade Tower had personally come?

Of course, he couldn’t rule out the possibility of a fraud.

However, the stall owner was confident in his ability to judge people—this calm and unflappable demeanor, as well as the extremely abnormal affability and oppressive feeling emanating from that white-haired dwarf, were not things that could be faked.

At the very least, they were two Formal Wizards, "Committee" members, or even higher-ranking ones.

And he was just a gambling stall owner in some pirate faction in a port city. Although he was considered upper-middle rank within the gang, even the old Ritualist who had joined them a few months ago had a higher status than him.

He was, after all, just a mortal.

In a place like the United Kingdom, Transcendents were nobler than ordinary people on many levels. They could easily become nobles, could insert themselves into any industry regardless of experience... and even easily become mounted police, who even the great pirates viewed with respect.

Noticing his extremely respectful demeanor, Annan asked with interest, "How do you know that we didn’t come here just for fun?"

"Your accent, it’s obviously that of a great noble from Winter. And you’ve probably never been to our parts... But that gentleman next to you, he clearly looks like a local."

The gambling stall owner, who looked like a tavern keeper and seemed like he might say at any moment, "This is how you play the game; you really are a talent, my friend," appeared so friendly in front of them. This attitude could even be described as nearly humble.

"And if it were locals bringing foreign friends sightseeing, they obviously wouldn’t bring them to a gambling stall. At most, they might just come take a look.

"If they saw a ritual like the one earlier, they would probably leave quickly—I’ve seen some big shots before. Although they don’t care about whether we lowlifes live or die, when they see that kind of ’unclean’ ritual, they still get shocked... They leave hurriedly before people are hanged."

The stall owner spoke softly, his right corner of the mouth involuntarily rising, revealing a slightly mocking smile.

Although those big shots, when ordering someone’s death, wouldn’t hesitate even for a moment, when they actually saw hooks piercing cheeks, and blood mixing with tongues or eyeballs popping out, they would turn pale with fright.

Compared to those "big shots", this young man holding a staff, with silver-white long hair, skin so pure white it seemed to glow... and a face as beautiful as a princess’s, showed no reaction when he saw that scene.

Neither fear nor excitement. No disgust, and no pleasure.

On his face, there was only an almost divine compassion.

The stall owner immediately confirmed, this must indeed be a true superior.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in the stall owner’s head.

It was like he had a burst of inspiration, and he suddenly guessed a possibility—

Earlier in the tavern, he seemed to have heard that this generation’s Grand Duke of Winter was not very old, and that he often liked to gallivant around other countries...

This dwarf, as beautiful as Dennisiowa’s Little Princess, with an exceptionally noble aura and skin white as though glowing...

—Could it be the Grand Duke of Winter?