Chapter 175: Nightingale Tavern

Beckland, Hope Street, Serenzo Restaurant

"My suggestion is to serve a soup made from mushrooms as a side dish, rather than using large quantities of mushrooms as a flavoring sauce."

On a long table covered by a pristine white tablecloth, Zhongli set down his silver soup spoon and wiped his lips with a napkin beside him.

"The flavor of the mushrooms is overpowering. I'm not well-versed in the current mushroom varieties, but based on these few attempts, they all tend to have intense, distinct aromas."

"Your dish aims to express the emerald fields style—using corn's natural sweetness without added sugar is good, but don't use too much."

"The flavor of the green beans isn't coming through. The chicken is of excellent quality, surely carefully raised."

Beside him sat a young chef with brown hair and brown eyes, a full beard, wearing a tall white hat, jotting down Zhongli's words in a notebook.

"Mr. Mora is right—I'll reduce the proportion next time."

"Shiriden, don't destroy Mr. Mora's taste buds with your ridiculous dish!" A tall young female chef with short golden hair shoved Shiriden's chair; after he stood, she sat down unceremoniously in his place.

"Lucia, how can you say that?! Mr. Mora understands me!" Shiriden protested, but rose and left, just as their head chef had prearranged—one chef per dish.

Shiriden subtly glanced at Lucia; this thorny rose of Beckland's culinary world had now deliberately plucked her thorns, lifted the lid of her dish, and presented her creation before Mr. Mora, propping her chin on her hands, her blushing cheeks making her look especially enchanting.

"Dessert: Rose's Love. Please taste." Lucia gazed at Mr. Mora with hopeful eyes, as if autumn's ripples shimmered within them.

Are you really inviting someone to taste dessert? I don't even want to point it out to you.

Shiriden wasn't surprised. Mr. Mora, though appearing somewhat older—nearing middle age—was learned, talented, and carried the charm of a middle-aged man; his mastery of cuisine was extraordinary, and he was a business partner of the renowned philanthropist and merchant Dawn Tates. He held great appeal for these young girls, though as a port merchant, his avoidance of seafood dishes was somewhat puzzling.

"Creamy, slightly sweet but not cloying—the apple roses were pre-soaked in honey."

"Hmm, good."

The magnetic voice praising her made Lucia's heart pause; she stammered, "M-Mr. Mora, I… I'd like to invite you to…"

Though Lucia was from the Intis Republic and, influenced by her parents and past environment, held open-minded views, her standards had always been high. Having finally encountered a man with deep culinary knowledge and a distinguished background, she naturally didn't want to let this opportunity slip away.

"My home."

Knock knock knock

The knocking interrupted the words Lucia was about to speak.

"Mr. Mora, Miss Hall has sent me to invite you to her salon tonight at eight o'clock." A middle-aged man in a black tailcoat stood by the door, bowing respectfully to Zhongli: "Sir, the carriage is ready."

"I understand." Zhongli rose and smiled warmly at Lucia. "Thank you for tonight's hospitality, Miss Lucia. Your cooking is outstanding."

"I'll come again another day. I hope to taste your other creations."

"Of course!" Lucia replied, blushing—whether from her earlier intentions or from being praised, she wasn't sure.

Watching Zhongli's tall figure gradually walk toward the door, Shiriden, carrying a tray, leaned over and whispered slyly: "They say Miss Hall is Beckland's brightest jewel~ Now this is trouble—apparently, foreign nobles who've seen her lose their souls."

"Shut your mouth, Shiriden!" Lucia placed down the dish and turned away with a sway of her hips: "He's a merchant. Miss Hall is nobility."

Shiriden sighed. He had his own wife—he wasn't jealous or possessive. He merely wanted to persuade Lucia to abandon her unrealistic notions. You know he's a merchant, but he's a merchant on Dawn's level.

"But we're just commoner chefs."

Inside the moving carriage

Justice. Audrey bowed in greeting to Zhongli.

"Good evening, Pope."

Zhongli shed his Western-looking middle-aged man's appearance, reverting to his true form: a tall, handsome man with golden irises and long black hair fading to brown, falling over his shoulders.

"Good evening, Miss Justice." Zhongli replied calmly and politely.

"Thank you for your help today," Audrey said sweetly, speaking like a neighborly girl. "Regarding the semi-god of the Psychological Alchemy Society, Hervan Lambis."

"No need for thanks. You paid your fee, and I rendered assistance—that's a fair exchange." Zhongli glanced out the window; European-style buildings stood in neat rows along the street.

Audrey smiled. Where in the world could one find such a deal—paying only a few collectibles and oddities to summon a god of Angel rank?

Audrey recalled the scene she'd witnessed that afternoon in Viscount Graelint's mansion. With the aid of a Fate Rune, she had successfully planted a suggestion in Hervan Lambis.

An hour later, Hervan Lambis awoke to his mythological form—a gray-white mental dragon—and attempted to invade the Pope's mind. But the next moment, he saw something so terrifying he collapsed into madness. A semi-god of the Observer Path, master of mental powers, was shattered.

"You wish to meet my father to discuss business?" Audrey produced a thick dossier detailing all holdings under the Hall family, including arms and black-market industries her family had hidden from her.

The Earl of Hall was not the highest-ranked noble in Beckland, but one of the wealthiest—shareholder in several major banks, special advisor to the Ruin Royal Bank, second-largest shareholder in the Conston Coal and Steel Consortium.

"Indeed." Zhongli turned his gaze from the window and gave a slight nod.

The God of Wealth and Trade—does He intend to re-engage in human commerce after His revival? Could this relate to His title? Is this driven by some purpose—or does it aid His further restoration?

Too distant to ponder now. Audrey pushed aside distractions. She was still merely a Dream Walker of Sequence, advancing toward Sequence 4, the semi-god.

"Are you interested in mining?" Audrey noticed Zhongli flipping directly to mining-related companies. She smiled and asked: "My brother mentioned that the iron mines near Conston have begun declining in output, and coal quality has dropped."

"I know a little." Zhongli scanned the data and said to Audrey: "If I handle it, I can locate new, easily exploitable mineral sources for you. I expect your father to provide corresponding compensation."

"Naturally." Audrey nodded. Mining profits were enormous, yet she asked: "Why not establish a mining company under Dawn Tates' enterprises?"

The God of Earth could surely find even scarce minerals—maximizing profits, eventually creating a mining giant.

Zhongli smiled: "I need to liquidate wealth quickly within these days—and conveniently, your father controls vast wealth."

Audrey's eyes flickered; her thoughts raced. Synthesizing all information, she ventured:

"I heard Mr. Dawn Tates has been acquiring vast quantities of supplies. Are you raising funds?"

According to Audrey's knowledge, Dawn Tates was the public identity of the Fool's followers.

"A significant part is due to this consideration." Zhongli pulled from his bag a ten-pound gold note, bearing the portrait of King William I—the founding emperor of Ruin, with a high nose, thick beard, and solemn expression. "He has too many troubles. This might help him."

"I'll find a way to convince my father to aid the refugees," Audrey said, not hiding her gloom. She sighed at the coming war: "My father and brother are good people too."

Zhongli gazed at Audrey and said calmly: "Most merchants only part with their wealth when seeking greater profit—we call this investment. It carries risk, but also the chance of immense returns."

"I believe in them," Audrey smiled, subtly shifting the topic:

"What about you, Pope?"

"Was this task entrusted to you by the World?"

Zhongli shook his head honestly: "He knows nothing of this."

"You truly are a being of mercy and compassion," Audrey said sincerely, slightly surprised—perhaps the World and the Pope were on good terms? Perhaps because both were followers of the Fool.

The carriage arrived at Townsend Street, stopping to wait for the crowd ahead to pass. Zhongli turned his head to look at the stream of people on the sidewalk outside—weary-faced workers, housewives carrying vegetable baskets, government officials with briefcases, university students with books—a motley assortment.

"Though I am but a passerby, I still know the suffering of the common people."

"Chaos. Displeasing."

Backlund's nights were not monotonous. In this era without electronic products, humans would think of all sorts of methods for entertainment, creating all manner of amusements.

People exhausted by life had two ways to relax: one was to go home and amuse themselves, the other was to spend money and let others entertain them.

Occasionally, the crisp clop of hooves striking grey stone bricks came through, followed by the hum of wheels rolling over the ground. In the yellow halo of the streetlamps, the shadows of pedestrians stretched long, shrank to a single dot, then stretched long again after passing the lamp.

By October, the temperature in Backlund was already very low. The bleak cold wind swept along the ground, stirring up a few withered yellow leaves. On the street, several drunk people leaned on each other as they made their way home.

Birmingham Road, not far from the East Berylun Officers' Retired Club—a bar called "Nightingale."

A waiter in a black waistcoat and white shirt pushed open the 3-meter-tall red velvet double doors, ushering Su Lin inside.

Hearing that Mr. K of the Aurora Order liked to come to this bar called Nightingale on weekdays, and wanting to inquire about information on worshippers of the Primordial Moon, as well as to obtain extraordinary characteristics through certain channels via a "zero-dollar purchase," Su Lin had arranged a new job for himself.

For example, hunting members of evil cult organizations and certain wanted wild Beyonders.

Passing through a long corridor, the waiter led Su Lin into a bar with classical decor. A phonograph played the popular music of the Loen Kingdom these days. Young people sat in twos and threes in booths along the corridor, the bartender mixed elaborate drinks, and servers brought orders to the guests.

Among the patrons were young men and women, as well as workers with dust and paint all over their clothes. It looked like a perfectly respectable bar, yet Su Lin frowned slightly and said to the waiter who had turned to leave:

"I heard you have a basement level here. Take me downstairs."

The waiter was stunned for a moment, somewhat bewildered, and said: "Sir, I don't understand what you mean. We only have one floor here."

"I don't care whether you run a membership system or an old-member-brings-new-member club format—take me downstairs." Su Lin stared into the waiter's eyes as he spoke.

The waiter's eyes went unfocused, glazed for a moment, then returned to normal. "Please follow me."

He led Su Lin into a private room. After opening the door, a table of burly strongmen glanced at Su Lin, then at the waiter in front of them, then ignored them and continued cracking the nuts in their hands.

The waiter closed the door, walked to a white wall, and knocked lightly. A hollow sound came through. Two seconds later, a door opened in the wall, revealing a white-haired old man with pale blue eyes. He looked at Su Lin as if about to say something, and his gaze also went unfocused for a moment.

"Please follow me."

The underground space of this bar was five times the size of the one above. Descending the stairs, Su Lin couldn't help but sigh that rich people really knew how to have fun.

Colorful lights slowly rotated. On a spacious two-meter-high stage, several young girls danced a hot, vigorous routine. On a dozen or so tables were placed various chips.

In the booths along the corridor, finely dressed men in gorgeous, exquisite fabrics sat alongside pretty-faced girls. Their glasses clinked as they chatted cheerfully, and occasionally a guest even put an arm around a server and headed toward a room not far away?

It was practically a nightclub with every kind of illicit activity imaginable!?

Good lord, Su Lin could only exclaim "good lord"—the lunatics of the Aurora Order actually enjoyed this sort of thing?

After a slight probe, there were roughly five Beyonders here? Two low Sequences, two mid-Sequences, and one Sequence 4 demigod.

Su Lin passed by a low-Sequence girl. Her golden hair reached her shoulders, the curled ends hanging down her back. The standard-issue long dress on her body reminded him that she was staff here.

She noticed Su Lin's gaze, flashed a sweet smile, and walked past.

Su Lin withdrew his gaze, puzzled that a Beyonder would also work this kind of job part-time.

Su Lin walked up to a middle-aged man with short black hair, wearing a red formal suit. The nasolabial lines on his face were deeper than most. Holding a goblet in his hand, he quietly watched the dance on stage.

As if greeting an old friend, Su Lin placed a hand on his shoulder and said with a smile:

"Old K, right? Shall we have a chat?"

This chapter is for the 19th, posted a bit late.