Chapter 33: Delivering Himself to the Door (Part 2)

The day passed with Dean inspecting his equipment and Huck giving repeated warnings—obviously, the innkeeper was still not very reassured about this young man. Today, he appeared in his room more than once, interrupting Dean’s organization and inspection of his equipment. Moreover, he suggested that Dean “hire a few guards.”

Although Huck guaranteed that he could find reliable guards to ensure his safety, Dean, having his own plan, had to refuse the innkeeper’s kindness.

Regarding this, Huck could only shake his head helplessly.

And, quite obviously, he categorized Dean into the kind of merchants who “value money over their lives.” In the end, he couldn’t be bothered to deal with Dean anymore.

Dean could only give another helpless, bitter smile in his heart.

However, Dean’s bitter smile, which held some goodwill, was soon interrupted by a group of “uninvited guests.” During lunch, Dean temporarily left his room and appeared in the lobby of the inn. However, seeing that there were far more people in the lobby than yesterday, Dean frowned.

The malicious looks, sizing him up and down, made Dean understand that these people had come for him.

Dean, who had done everything yesterday, naturally knew clearly about these “uninvited guests,” but the number of opponents was somewhat unexpected.

Moreover, as time passed, the number of people gathering increased.

By dinner time, even the spacious lobby of Snow Bear’s Home could not seat everyone.

As a result, Dean had to take his plate and return to his room to eat. During this time, those greedy eyes stared straight at Dean until he disappeared around the corner of the stairs.

Click!

Dean closed his door and locked it from the inside—although the number of people exceeded his expectations, Dean did not intend to give up his original plan.

In fact, such a large number of people was a very good situation for Dean.

Not only could it create a more chaotic scene, but his choices for a “Substitute” also increased greatly.

As for the death of the “Substitute”?

Since they could arrive at Snow Bear’s Home in such a short time, it was obvious that these people were professional bandits—only professional bandits would have information channels far surpassing ordinary people.

Therefore, there was no need for any so-called condemnation of conscience.

…

Night had completely fallen after Dean finished the last bite of his food. Except for the lights of Snow Bear’s Home, which were still bright, the lights of the entire Tier Town could only be provided by the patrolling guards and the Manor of that Lord Baron in the East District of Tier Town.

And Dean searched carefully for his “target”!

Unlike the ease of last night, the Tier Town guards, having rested for a whole day, were full of energy today. One need only look at those bandits who smelled the Gold Pulton and came but did not dare to stay long on the streets of Tier Town at night.

Of course, not all thieves dared to linger like that.

At the very least, Dean had already seen no fewer than five people knocked to the ground by Tier Town’s patrolling guards and escorted into the dungeon of the sentry post.

Naturally, these people were not Dean’s “targets”!

What he needed were those solo thieves who could hide very well and had a build similar to his.

As for their faces?

Dean would not hope for that.

However, he had already thought of a way to make up for it—in order to torture out more Gold Pulton, the cruel bandits tortured that young man, even slashing his face to pieces.

This was not something excessive. In fact, compared to simple executions like hanging, many torture methods were mastered by some thieves to establish their reputation. The targets were naturally their opponents or the targets they were about to strike. An uncle of Baron Tier was treated so cruelly, which was why he had no goodwill toward any thieves and kept hunting them down.

Simply put, there was no shortage of such cruel guys near the Tier Territory.

And this naturally brought convenience to Dean.

In fact, shortly after leaving Snow Bear’s Home, Dean already had his “harvest”—this was a thief hiding under the eaves and around the corner of a civilian house.

The other party’s hidden tracks, and the dagger and short knife on his body were enough to prove his identity.

And his figure, which was similar to Dean’s, and the fact that he had no obvious marks like tattoos or birthmarks, undoubtedly met Dean’s requirements.

However, Dean did not kill the other party immediately.

If the smell of blood appeared, it would undoubtedly make his departure more difficult.

Therefore, when they arrived at last night’s location, Dean ended the other party’s life—

[XP+1]

The experience provided confirmed the accuracy of Dean’s killing with a single thrust to the throat. Of course, before this, Dean had already started his arrangements. First, anything that could prove the other party’s identity could not be left behind. Next were traces of “torture.”

As for why not set it up after the other party died?

The traces of “torture” before and after death might be indistinguishable to ordinary people, but for some experts, it was too simple.

They could easily judge what was going on with the wounds on the other party’s body based on the contraction of the skin and muscles.

Dean naturally would not leave such a handle for the other party—although he highly doubted whether Tier Town had such experts.

After doing everything, the rest was waiting!

Just like last night, that Spy leader did not make Dean wait too long before appearing with another figure—although blocked by a cloak, the occasionally revealed face let Dean confirm that this was the target he was waiting for.

“My Lord, I hope you have a pleasant conversation with His Excellency Mold!”

After the Spy leader finished speaking, he slightly bowed and retreated to a distance not far away—obviously, apart from maintaining respect for Dean, this Spy leader absolutely did not want to participate in it, even though he had already reported the news of Dean’s appearance here to another Big Shot.

To achieve the skill of pleasing both sides, of course, one could not bet everything on just one side; he needed to take care of both.

“Mold?”

Dean confirmed the Spy leader’s departure. After being certain that the other party could not see or hear the conversation here, he asked the Tax Officer in front of him.

“Yes, My Lord! Mold is very honored to serve you and Goth!”

Having received a few words about the “Big Shot” in front of him from the Spy leader, Mold expressed his respect and humility, just as he did toward Baron Tier—because he knew that the person in front of him was someone who could help him; and for such people, Mold never stinted on his respect and humility. Just as he knew since childhood that good children would get an extra share of candy, he was very clear that respect and humility would gain him more favor from these Big Shots.

Dean did not refute this respect and humility. He just watched coldly from the sidelines, as if watching a street performer’s show.

Of course, Mold’s performance was much more professional than those street artists.

At least, if he didn’t know the other party’s background deeply, Dean would not be able to distinguish whether the other party’s current performance was real or acting—that feeling of sincerity was just too strong.

“Worth learning, isn’t it?”

Dean asked himself in his heart, then said in a hoarse, unrecognizable voice: “I am glad you have such awareness… Your trouble, Pine No. 1, has been dealt with, and this is not a one-time Transaction; so, I hope to be given more in return!”

“Of course, every week from now on I will…”

Mold knew the rules of dealing with people walking in the shadows. As soon as Dean’s voice fell, he immediately spoke in quick succession.

However, before this Tax Officer finished speaking, Dean swayed slightly, and then, as if he could no longer support himself, he fell to the side.

“My Lord, what is wrong with you?”

Mold almost instinctively rushed forward a step and caught Dean in his arms. At such a close distance, this Tax Officer immediately discovered the wound on the side of the abdomen of the “Big Shot” in front of him—although it had been Bandaging, the Blood on the bandage was obvious.

“Hush! I don’t want others to know!”

Dean whispered urgently.

“Yes, My Lord!”

The Tax Officer nodded repeatedly, and at the same time, a hint of joy appeared in his eyes—how to shorten the distance with a stranger undoubtedly involved having a common secret; of course, this secret could not be too excessive, otherwise, it would bring fatal disaster; and obviously, the one before him was not that serious.

As for the injury of the Big Shot in front of him?

Previously, using the channels of thieves, Mold had obtained some news that others did not know—in fact, how to contact Goth’s Spy was also learned from the thieves’ channels.

And it was precisely because of this news that others did not know that Mold was confident he could gain more importance—look, a Big Shot who came from afar to take office suddenly found that the place he was coming to had been “taken over by another,” and moreover, the other party had sent quite powerful killers to deal with him.

In a situation of isolation and helplessness, a person helped him, so this Big Shot would inevitably be quite grateful.

Simply put, as long as he helped the Big Shot in front of him, then rising to success would be just around the corner.

As for helping another Big Shot?

Mold knew since he was ten years old that sending charcoal in the snow always brings more gratitude than adding flowers to brocade.

Of course, Mold would not worry that the fight between Big Shots would affect him—after all, in a few days, he would be “Knight” Mold.

A Knight, in this remote Territory, would be wooed by anyone.

Pfft!

The sound of metal cutting through muscle, and the severe pain that followed, interrupted Mold’s fantasy. He looked in disbelief at the Dagger buried to the hilt in his waist and abdomen, and tremblingly raised his head to look at Dean, who had jumped far away like a cheetah in an instant, and asked intermittently: “Th-this…”

However, even when this Tax Officer swallowed his last breath, he did not get an answer.

Dean stood silently not far from the other party, watching this Tax Officer who would have dominated the Tier Territory in the near future die in front of him like this. It was not until a light ball of experience floated up from the other party’s body that he came back to his senses—

[XP+20]

More experience than Dean imagined appeared on the character panel.