Chapter 315: People from the Southern Continent

At night, inside the Red Maple Leaf Bar in Bayam's dock district.

Reckton leaned back against a tall stool at the side of the bar counter, holding a glass of golden rum in his left hand, with a few bubbles still floating on the surface of the liquid.

"The quality is rather poor, but the taste isn't bad," Reckton silently evaluated in his mind.

He took a light sip of the liquor in his glass and lazily listened to the topics being discussed among the sailors, pirates, and adventurers around him.

"The Storm Church suddenly launched a massive search for members of the Moss Ascetic Order. Word has it that someone among them stole an important item from the Church!"

"Those sons of bitches."

"This is Bayam, the 'City of Generosity' where the 'Sea King' himself sits in command. Even a pirate general doesn't have that kind of power."

"Heh, the Storm Church just wants to find an excuse to conduct a thorough sweep of the entire Rosed Islands."

"According to rumor, that Star Admiral is a member of the Moss Ascetic Order."

The bartender at the counter wiped a brownish glass tumbler, moving closer to the corner where Reckton sat, and remarked with a sigh as he followed the conversation of the surrounding crowd.

This bartender had an upright posture and handsome features, with a faint smile always lingering at the corners of his mouth. Compared to a tavern bartender, Reckton felt he would earn more at establishments offering special services—perhaps within a month, he'd be living in a garden villa.

Reckton turned his head to size up this bartender, his expression unchanged. "Quite a practiced conversational technique—both attending to my experience at the tavern and trying to fish for information from me along the way."

"So he's figured out that I'm neither a pirate nor an adventurer? This tavern probably has official ties to the Storm Church."

The instincts retained from his days as a Knowledge Keeper made him, as long as he remained clear-headed, unconsciously analyze the people and objects around him and make corresponding judgments.

The thought flashed quickly through his mind, and Reckton chuckled softly:

"Rumors at sea are always endless, but who can tell which are true and which are false?"

The tavern bartender swapped the glass he had just finished wiping for another one and continued wiping.

Reckton let the man perform, not caring at all that this glass looked somewhat cleaner than the one he had just been wiping.

The bartender maintained a polite smile on his face and said:

"Sir, you must have just arrived in Bayam from the Northern Continent, right?"

"Although rumors at sea are mostly exaggerated, there will still be some genuinely useful information among them."

"While sailors do like to brag when they drink, it still has to be somewhat believable, otherwise they'll only be mocked by the people around them."

While speaking, the bartender also slightly raised his chin, gesturing for Reckton to turn and look at the group of customers behind and to his side.

In that direction was a group of sailors who were jeering. The one surrounded in the middle had his boastful words exposed on the spot and was now awkwardly unable to save face.

His gaze casually swept around the tavern. There were no fewer than ten-plus scouts out gathering information, two of whom likely had official backgrounds—most probably sailors or People of Fury—and they more closely resembled this tavern's hidden security personnel.

Reckton's expression turned peculiar for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Did I just randomly walk into a tavern and end up on the Storm Church's turf?"

Reckton seriously considered whether he should change his rendezvous location.

While pondering, his gaze caught the tavern entrance, where two people walked in. Their bronze skin showed clear Southern Continent heritage.

One of them had extremely rare black hair and black eyes, with a somewhat cold and stern face. He wore a black trench coat and had a slightly lean build, appearing to be under thirty by visual estimate.

On the thumb of his right hand, he wore a black ring set with an emerald.

Reckton's gaze lingered briefly on that ring. "An item of the Death pathway—not necessarily containing characteristics, but its level shouldn't be low."

Reckton's gaze then fell upon the other young man walking beside him:

He wore a black robe painted with strange symbols and patterns, a black silk pointed cap on his head, and his eyes were deep and spirited. A model of an astrolabe hung at his waist. His attire somewhat resembled the wizards from folk legends.

Reckton imprinted the man's appearance deeply in his mind before withdrawing his gaze with slight puzzlement. "Why do I feel he has a kind of inexplicable familiarity about him? I don't even know him?"

Glug~

Reckton downed a large mouthful of liquor to mask his puzzled expression.

"Two Golden Lemons!"

The two Southern Continent men who had just entered the tavern came to the bar counter and, seemingly very familiar with the place, ordered two glasses of the tavern's signature drink, the "Golden Lemon."

It was said to be a liquor infused with special spices, carrying a long-lasting fruity aroma. Reckton had smelled this liquor's fragrance before, and he could only say it was somewhat beyond his appreciation.

While Reckton drank the rum in his hand, the seat beside him was taken.

"I am Phoenix Eggers."

The man wearing the black ring set with an emerald on his right thumb lowered his voice, speaking in a somewhat deep tone.

Reckton turned his head to look. On closer inspection, the man did indeed share some similarities with Mr. Plac.

He gave a slight nod, not raising the topic of the Southern Continent, and said in a flat voice:

"Al Tynes."

"Mr. Plac is your—"

"Father."

It was not the man who called himself Phoenix who answered Reckton's question, but the young man dressed as a wizard who had come with him.

Reckton's curious gaze shifted over. The wizard-dressed man glanced back and said in a relatively mild tone:

"My name is Ethan, a... hmm, scholar from the Southern Continent!"

"The Southern Continent" and "scholar" were two words that essentially had no connection. Reckton silently commented in his mind.

"Gentlemen, your 'Golden Lemons' are ready!"

The bartender with the upright posture and handsome features brought over two freshly mixed drinks and set them in front of Ethan and Phoenix.

A liquor aroma mixed with a strange herbal scent immediately filled Reckton's nostrils, and he rubbed his nose with some discomfort.

"Now is really not a good time to come to Bayam. The Storm Church is like a child whose toy was snatched away, baring its fangs and claws everywhere."

Ethan seemed to be the more talkative of the two. He had only taken a small sip of the light brown liquor in his glass before quickly blending into the tavern's atmosphere and beginning to complain.

Reckton casually glanced over and saw that the bartender who had just served the drinks showed no change in expression—clearly, he was already accustomed to such remarks.

As his thoughts turned, he half-turned his body, leaned against the bar counter, looked at Ethan, and chuckled softly:

"Heh, that's quite normal. If you pay a little attention to the news at sea, you'll find that the ocean has been very restless lately. The Storm Church has been provoked right at their own doorstep."

"Are you talking about the sunlight that illuminated the entire city that night in Bayam?"

I heard that many people related to the Eternal Blazing Sun Church fled Baiyam overnight, not even having time to put on their pants.

It's a pity that I hadn't come to Baiyam then; I missed such a spectacular scene!

Yisan chatted away quickly with a gossipy tone.

Is it spectacular to start fleeing for one's life without pants, or is it the sunlight that lights up the whole city? Leikdun doubted this young man named Yisan's definition of a spectacular scene.

The handsome waiter at the bar approached again after no one placed an order; his expression turned somewhat solemn, and his words carried a note of admonition:

Sir, it was fortunate that you hadn't come to Baiyam at that time.

That night's sunlight, storm, and lightning were not merely spectacular; they were even more terrifying, enough to become a nightmare most people could hardly endure in a lifetime!

I even doubted at the time that I might step into the Storm Abyss the very next moment!

Storm Abyss? No, I will only return to the Underworld.

Yisan spoke as if discussing an ordinary topic.

As soon as his words fell, he casually pulled two silver suls from his pocket and tossed them to the waiter, asking without hiding his curiosity:

Could you tell me what happened that night? I'm really curious.

After catching the two silver suls, the waiter's smile brightened further; he immediately leaned in, lowered his voice, and began to recount heavily what he had witnessed that night:

I happened to be on vacation that day; I had already made an appointment with a client and was about to go out to earn some extra income.

At that time, I only saw the already darkened sky suddenly brighten, and then a violent explosion's sound faintly rang in my ears; the light that illuminated all of Baiyam likely lasted about three or four seconds.

Then, out of nowhere, a hurricane blew up, accompanied by continuous thunderclaps, but by then I had already taken shelter indoors, so I couldn't see what was happening outside.

After the waiter's vivid recounting of that night's events, he also lamented losing an opportunity to earn extra income.

That's all?

Yisan stared disappointedly at the waiter behind the bar, seemingly regretting having given so much tip.

How can that be all? This is the most complete account I've gathered!

Realizing he had misspoken, the waiter behind the bar gave an embarrassed chuckle, then turned and went to tidy the liquor cabinet behind him.

Phoenix, who had kept his head down drinking and hadn't spoken since his introduction, said softly after the waiter moved away:

You don't need to waste money to keep him away; we can just change locations.

Although Mr. Pulake's financial situation isn't great, it hasn't come to this point; he remains a wealthy tycoon with substantial assets.

Yisan's tone was more like a friend's defense.

(End of chapter)