From Prisoner to Si Chen

After bidding farewell to Miss Sparrow, Gillan left the convent.

The girl wearing the robe of a novice nun followed to the door, her eyes following the silhouette until the other person gradually disappeared at the end of the street, then she reluctantly withdrew her gaze and turned back.

Gillan was alone again.

No, his friends were actually by his side and never left. In addition, there is also the messenger Mo Weiwei accompanying her.

But he knew it very well.

Only by advancing to Level 2 Basic as soon as possible can we completely save our friends and give them a truly stable shelter.

The indescribable sense of urgency and pressure, like an invisible weight, was pressing on his back at all times, making him unable to breathe.

Gillan walked silently along Saint Maud Street towards the depths of South Muses.

On the business card of the black marketeer that Old Charles gave him, the mailing address was No. 74 Corona Street, which was still two blocks away.

But he found that the further he walked in, the more crowded the surrounding environment became.

Not only the residences, but also the shops and stores are all row buildings. Often you can’t even see an alley after walking a hundred meters.

The buildings here seem to be tightly embedded in one body, leaving no gaps, just to make more living space and accommodate more people.

Therefore, the population density here is quite high.

Occasionally when passing by an alleyway, with a casual glance, you can see dozens or hundreds of strings hanging inside. Like a spider named poverty, it has built a big web called despair, which is airtight.

There are densely packed clothes drying on the strings, including old people's clothes, children's clothes, men's and women's clothes, and all kinds of cheap and shabby inner and outer clothes. The alleys were almost filled with sundries such as starching barrels, chamber pots, various moldy leather shoes, and small benches.

Like a cramped garbage dump.

Through the gaps, you can even see many women in simple clothes and turbans, sitting together in groups, holding children with numb faces, chatting, or in a daze.

Ji Lan withdrew his gaze and quickened his pace.

About half an hour later, he finally arrived at Corona Street.

The street is filled with a sense of indifference and confusion.

Gilan couldn't see any patrolling police officers, and few carriages passed by. Some are just men smoking in groups on roadside corners, as well as passers-by who are in a hurry and leave quickly.

The men who gathered together to smoke were wearing smocks or worn-out leather jackets and floppy berets. They looked unkind and glanced around from time to time.

‘Poverty and chaos are breeding grounds for gangs. ’

Ji Lan secretly thought.

Wearing a high-end black coat and a short top hat, he walked into Corona Street with a swagger and quickly attracted the attention of these guys.

But they didn't come forward to find trouble, they just watched indifferently and communicated in low voices.

When Gilan reached the end of the street, he found that he was being followed from a distance by those guys, but he didn't care.

If these people are not discerning, Ji Lan wouldn't mind teaching them a lesson.

Corona Street, No. 74.

Gilan stopped in front of a store called Grandma Gana's Grocery Store and murmured.

He opened the old and blackened curtain and walked in.

Suddenly, a musty smell of rotting wood and paper hit his nostrils.

In a dim environment, there is a small store layout, with rusty metal shelves lined up on three sides, leaving two aisles less than half a meter apart.

An old-fashioned counter is on the right, and behind it sits a hunchbacked old woman, wearing a red flower tie and a pilled red woolen vest.

Sir, what do you need?

The old woman closed the adult magazine in her hand, raised her cloudy eyes, glanced at Gilan, and spoke slowly.

Gillan noticed that on the cover of the magazine in her hand, there was a burly man with a bright smile, wearing only briefs and posing to show off his biceps.

Big goose. He said the secret code lightly.

The old woman looked at him for a few seconds, then lowered her head and continued to flip through the magazine.

Enter from the right aisle. There is a telephone in the room. You must know the number, but please transfer to Mr. Baruch's Photo Studio, No. 47, Corona Street. The call costs 1 cent per minute. Remember to pay when you come out.

She said without looking up.

Jilan frowned slightly.

Just in the same neighborhood, and still have such complicated contact information.

But he also guessed that even if he went to the photo studio on No. 47 in person, he might not be able to find the black marketeer named Bondo Leo.

Only by following their procedures can you contact and transact with them.

Thinking of this, he nodded to the old woman, then took a step forward and moved sideways through the container aisle.

Pushing open the innermost wooden door, Gilan walked into the cramped room.

Although the house is simple, it is quite neat. It seems to be the old woman's bedroom. However, the walls were covered with naked posters of all kinds of handsome men and beauties, as well as all kinds of sexy clothes, props, stockings and other sundries.

Gilan ignored this, walked straight to the corner, picked up the microphone and receiver, and turned the dial.

Click, click, click...

He first dialed 666-144 according to the number on his business card, and then dialed 000 to the local telephone station.

Soon, after the operator transferred the call, an old and deep male voice came from the receiver in Gillan's hand:

Hey, this is Mr. Baruch's photo studio. Who are you looking for?

I'm looking for Bondo Leo to discuss business with him.

Gillan raised the phone and said.

Whatever you want, you can tell me directly.

Do you have mercury batteries?

... There was silence on the other side of the receiver.

But soon, the other party said again:

Have you brought enough money?

Of course. Jilan said calmly. As many as I want.

I can see that you are sincere.

The old man over there spoke softly.

Guest, are you interested in knowing about the special products of our 'Recording Session'?

Ji Lan's eyes narrowed.

Recording meeting?

These black marketeers are actually members of the Secret Society Record Society?

Mr. Stork once said that the Record Society is a large secret society with branches located all over the empire. The current situation is not impossible.

What special product? Jilan asked in a deep voice.

A very mysterious artwork, presented in the form of a video tape, which records longing and profound content.

Well, I'm very interested in what you said.

Jilan's eyes flashed.

Can I have an interview?

... There was silence again for a few seconds. Just wait a moment and someone will come to find you.

good.

Click.

Toot toot…

Gilan hung up the phone and looked thoughtful.

If these people are really members of the Recording Society, then they must have real films in their hands. Maybe I can use this to watch new stories again and get mysterious points and benefits from them.

‘I just don’t know, do they have any mysterious materials? ’

He walked out of the bedroom with anticipation.

But the person who greeted him was the old lady wearing a red woolen vest.

But the look on the other person's face looked a little sinister, and he was holding an old-fashioned single-shot long-barreled shotgun in his hand.

The old lady was standing at the door, with six strong men gathered behind her, each holding a Borchardt pistol. These men were the same guys who had gathered on the roadside to smoke, suspected of being gang members, and followed Gillan all the way.

Sir, don't be nervous.

The grocery store owner, Granny Gana, laughed.

These people are all subordinates of Big Goose. We will escort you to see him... You know, the environment here is dangerous, and as a guest, we have to take care of your safety, right?