Super Righteous Player
Chapter 623 - 164: The Fourth Depletion Museum_1

Chapter 623: Chapter 164: The Fourth Depletion Museum_1

At nine o’clock in the morning on the next day, Annan as scheduled, set out.

Duke Ivan originally wanted to assign a Hand of Winter to Annan, but Annan firmly refused.

Annan believed that the presence of a Hand of Winter would make Vasily Rasputin apprehensive and unable to speak his true thoughts.

As it happened, Annan himself appeared harmless and adorable, while also bearing faint Dragon Race features. Whether Vasily would greatly underestimate Annan, or treat him with immense respect, both were possibilities, and either would reveal Vasily’s own stance.

But if a Hand of Winter were added to the mix, neither possibility would occur.

This would, in effect, turn it into a "conversation under the supervision of Duke Ivan." It would make the other party conceal things... and that would be more detrimental to the negotiation.

Annan was not afraid of him spouting nonsense.

His left eye could detect betrayal.

And the right lies could in fact reveal much more information.

Why would he lie? Why here? What does he care about? What does he want to hide? What does he expect me to think? How should I respond to him?

And... which level is he on? And at what level should I be?

If these things could be figured out, the act of lying by the other party would actually expose more intelligence.

It did sound too dangerous for the sole heir of the Duchy to meet alone, at the other’s turf, facing a Transcendent and a Grand Ritualist of at least the silver rank...

However, considering Annan’s abilities and the Rasputin family’s loyalty to the Winter, Ivan eventually agreed to Annan’s plan.

Annan did not bring Dorin the werewolf girl with him. He temporarily settled her in the duke’s mansion... because her appearance was too similar to the traitor Bella from back then, and being a werewolf herself, the other Hands of Winter were unhappy with her existence.

But with the Hand of Winter’s loyalty towards Winter and their principle of "silence,"... even if they harbored hostility towards Dorin, they would at least not burst into Dorin’s room to kill her directly while Annan was away.

So let her shut herself in her room.

Let her be scared by the Hands of Winter, let their murderous aura make a deep impression on Dorin. It could be considered a good thing.

Whether Annan wanted to use these Hands of Winter to intimidate her later, or comfort her with "The Charlatan and the Missionary," he could achieve quite a satisfactory effect.

"’The Fourth Exhaustion Gallery’... This is the place."

Annan murmured to himself.

This was the address on the card.

He had already investigated it the night before.

This was an art collection gallery invested in by the Rasputin family. It had an inner and an outer gallery; the inner gallery was not open to visitors and could only be entered with a one-time invitation card or a special identity card.

— That metal-interleafed black card was the special identity card.

The outer gallery housed various collected works of art, while the inner gallery contained rare cursed materials and artifacts.

Inside, there were even handicrafts made by Yawen himself, paintings by the Paper Princess, and fragments of a knight’s armor.

Some items were just for exhibition, some were available for rent. Others would be auctioned regularly.

And today, the inner gallery would only receive Annan alone.

At the entrance of the inner gallery, a towering gatekeeper in black thick leather armor with his face almost entirely obscured took Annan’s card and inserted it into a jadelike hammer he carried in his left hand, which looked somewhat like a long-handled ice cream scoop. Then Annan stretched out his finger and wrote his name on the surface of that hammer, shaped somewhat like a large flat ice cream bar. The jade emitted a green light.

...This signature-based identity verification device is pretty advanced. It even has a touchscreen.

Annan thought to himself.

The reason for not using fingerprints was probably that in this world, changing one’s fingerprints or palm prints was much easier than changing one’s True Name.

And after the green light lit up, the tall gatekeeper spoke in a muffled voice, "Respected guest, you may enter now."

Annan could vaguely see a silver bracelet that looked like handcuffs on the man’s wrist.

...Do they use fully armed Transcendents of the silver rank as doormen?

That’s quite lavish.

"Okay."

Annan nodded, tightening his cloak around himself.

After all, this is Frost Speech Province, not Noah nor some remote town.

In a street incident involving a rogue Wizard, at least eight of the dead would be nobles or ministers.

The number of people who recognize Annan is neither particularly high nor low.

Even though Annan left from the ducal palace, obtaining information about his movements wouldn’t be difficult... but Annan didn’t want to make the process too easy.

Otherwise, even if Vasily Rasputin had no particular designs on Annan,

it was hard to guarantee that some local noble wouldn’t suddenly harbor evil intentions.

Therefore, Annan not only used a scarf to cover his mouth, but also donned a thick white cloak. This was an outfit unique to the Winter’s Walkers of the Winter Principality... This clothing was roughly equivalent to the camouflaged suits bound with leaves by the Noah Hunters.

Winter’s Walkers are a grey profession who gather supplies in the wilderness.

They are called a grey profession because, in the wastelands outside the minor boundaries, whatever happens is buried by the heavy snow... and in the resource-scarce winter years, the best way to gather supplies is naturally off the backs of other people.

Exiles cast out of the minor boundaries, travelers trying to pass through the blizzard to reach the neighboring city, and other Winter’s Walkers... Any encounter could end in killing. Similarly, any encounter could also result in being killed.

This white attire serves as camouflage in the snow.

The aim is at least not to be ambushed... in the wilds of Winter, an injury was almost certainly a death sentence. Whether struck by an arrow or by a bullet, the wound could easily fail to heal due to lack of sufficient heat, leading to infection and deterioration.

Even dressing or stabilizing a wound almost certainly resulted in a significant loss of body heat.

Thus, every Winter’s Walker’s hands were likely stained with several lives—enemies, prey, and companions. They might not all be Transcendents, but they were certainly ruthless individuals.

Hence, Winter’s Walkers seldom revealed their faces.

This was to prevent their true identities from being discovered and their families from facing retaliation... or being targeted by poison in their food or water by an enemy with a grudge.

This was a precaution that could not be adopted by hunters in warmer regions.

Disguising as a Winter’s Walker was the best way to keep others at a distance.

So even though Annan turned and walked towards the inner gallery, other visitors might be curious, but no one dared to follow.

Annan paced into the deserted inner gallery.

Here, there were many glass cabinets.

The art of glassmaking in this era, although much more advanced than on Earth at the same time... yet bulletproof glass had still not been invented.

Instead of bulletproof glass, the technology involved runes and ritual areas etched into the glass.

After all, inside were treasures worth cities...

Of course... for most people, each and every one was a dangerous item to be avoided at all costs.

An ice-blue candle burned with black flames, Mist in the shape of a cat’s head swirling like dark clouds, a man’s right hand crawling around inside the cabinet, a human brain dense with eyes, a stone head bald and without eyelashes yet eyeing Annan with interest, the pulsating heart of a bird made of rubies...

"How do you feel?"

An elegant voice echoed.

Annan turned around.

Emerging silently from the darkness... was a "human."

If one could call her that.

Her pupils were a dangerous-looking dark golden color with vertical slits; she had four ears—two human and two feline.

Her deep brown ponytail was tied high at the back of her head, split into two bundles, one draping over her left chest, the other tied into a ponytail hanging in front of her right side.

Her left eye was adorned with an enigmatic dark green eyeshadow, while her right was black. Her fingernails were painted black and red, respectively.

She retained human legs. She wore a boot on her right foot while her left was bare. Her footsteps were as if swallowed by the darkness, silent.

She stood at least a head taller than Annan, looking down at the white-cloaked wayfarer in a cape.

"Your Majesty Annan...?"

The cat-woman spoke softly.

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