scotland yard.

Xenophon hummed a ditty and pushed open the door of the Abnormal Case Investigation Division. Every morning when he steps in here, what he sees is the same scene. Miss Acheson buried her head in typing, Z sat behind her desk and smoked a cigar, and the wailing of prisoners came from the underground cell from time to time, which added some color to an ordinary day. .

"Boss, I heard a strange thing on the way here." Xenophon sat on Z's desk carelessly, "The police found a man **** in a garbage dump. They thought he was robbed I took him back to the bureau for interrogation. But the man refused to confess who hurt him, and kept saying that he just fell accidentally."

"I think he has done something disgraceful himself, so he refuses to confess." Z slowly exhaled a string of smoke rings.

"What's even more strange," Xenophon looked at the ceiling, "the police found a broken booklet at the scene."

"Some kind of political pamphlet?" Z asked.

"No. They couldn't read it, so they asked me. I saw it right away." Xenophon grinned almost to the ear, "It's a secret book."

Z suddenly got up, grabbed the coat draped over the chair, "Let's go."

"Slow down, boss!" Xenophon leisurely followed.

They went downstairs to the sheriff's office. A man covered in bruises and dust was sitting dejectedly at his desk, and the police officer in charge of criminal cases glared at him disapprovingly.

"Mr. Smith, you won't say anything, how can I help you?" said the officer.

"I've already said, I'm fine." The man named Smith said bravely, "It's just a fall."

"Do you think I'm blind?!"

After saying this, the police officer saw Z. He hurriedly covered his mouth, for fear that the commander of the Abnormal Case Investigation Section would think that "blind man" was mocking him.

Fortunately, Z didn't care about what the police officer said. He just gestured, "We want to take this gentleman away."

"Yes, yes, please..." In Scotland Yard, no one dared to violate the orders of the Abnormal Cases Investigation Section. They could steal any case they wanted.

Xenophon picked up Smith and escorted him to the Abnormal Case Investigation Division.

"Who are you?!" Smith panicked, "I already said I'm fine, can you let me go home?"

"We need your cooperation in the investigation." Xenophon said happily, "Have you heard of the name Night Policeman?"

Smith's face lost all color in an instant. Xenophon knew he must have heard of it.

"Be honest and tell what you have done, sir." Xenophon said, "Maybe our boss will be extra merciful and kill you for life."

Smith looked at the cold-looking white-haired man. So, he is the legendary leader of the Night Police?

He has fought against countless mystics, and has survived to this day, which is enough to show how terrifying his strength is.

The owner of the secret trading house is certainly powerful, but how is he compared to the leader of the night vigilante? Wouldn't it be beautiful if the two of them fought and lost both sides?

A burning rage welled up in Smith at the thought of the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of the master of the exchange house. He must let that kid die badly!

"It was the owner of the trading house who hurt me." He said with an innocent and pitiful look.

The two night guards stopped at the same time.

"Really?" Z asked, a strange brilliance bloomed in his crimson blind eyes.

"Naturally it is true!" Smith said hastily.

He secretly rejoiced, if he had done meritorious service, maybe the punishment could be mitigated?

"Who is he?" Xenophon asked.

Smith frowned. Due to the shackles of the secret contract, he could not reveal the identity of the owner of the trading house. What can I do?

He can only try. Maybe just describing the appearance of the owner of the trading house won't trigger that terrible contract.

"I don't know his name," he said, "but I remember his face."

"Say it!" Z growled.

"He's young..."

Smith suddenly widened his eyes and stared forward in horror.

Xenophon followed his gaze. Ahead is an empty corridor, nothing, what exactly is Smith looking at?

"Young, what else?" Z urged.

A tear of blood snaked down Smith's cheek. Immediately afterwards, blood flowed from his nose, mouth, and ears at the same time. He scratched his neck frantically, as if his throat was blocked by something, his eyes were about to split open, and his eyes almost fell out of their sockets.

"Blonde...blonde..."

Smith fell on his back.

Xenophon hurriedly knelt beside him and felt for his pulse.

"Dead." Xenophon whispered.

Z lowered his eyes. Even if the person who died was a mystic with whom he was not at all sympathetic, he still had at least a minimum of respect for the deceased.

"It's the contract of the secret trading house. They can't reveal the identity of the owner of the trading house, otherwise they will die on the spot." Xenophon wiped his hands on Smith's clothes, "It's just that I didn't expect that the contract would be so of…"

"Immediately." Z said in a deep voice.

"But at least we know some information young man, blond." Xenophon paused, "It's just that the scope is too wide! There are blond young men everywhere! Even our newcomers here They're all blond, so it doesn't mean he's the owner of the secret trading house, hahaha!"

Willow Tailor.

Mrs. Villau stood at the door of the shop, looking nervously into the distance on tiptoe. Her son just ran out without saying a word, so something must have happened, right?

After waiting for a long time, until she couldn't help but want to call the police, Al finally came back.

He didn't come back alone. The young customer from the tailor shop supported him. Al was bruised and purple, his lips were cracked, his face was covered with dried blood, and his clothes were torn. Mrs. Willow was terrified out of her wits.

"Al! What's wrong with you!" She rushed to support her limping son.

"Smith did it." Al pushed his mother away and walked into the tailor's shop alone.

Mrs. Willow clutched her chest, "How could you provoke that person! You don't understand mystical philosophy at all!"

"It's okay mom, he will never come to harass us again." Al looked at Duan Feizhuo, his blue eyes were full of admiration, "It was this gentleman who defeated him. This gentleman is a mystic!"

Mrs. Willow tilted her head, "Mystic?"

"Don't talk about that yet. Do you have paper and pen?" Duan Feizhuo asked.

Madame Villau hastily brought some sheets of paper and a pen. Duan Feizhuo picked up the pen, concentrated for a while, and quickly drew a complex magic circle on the paper.

This is the magic circle at the entrance to the customer channel of the Secret Realm Trading Bank. The paper with the magic circle drawn on it is the key to enter the secret trading house.

It was strange, he had only seen the magic circle once, but he remembered it clearly and could draw it in one go.

He drew two pictures in total, and handed one to each of Wei Liu's mother and son. "This magic circle is connected with another space. I will enter that space first, and you will follow me as soon as I leave. Do you understand?"

Mrs. Willow was at a loss. Al nodded vigorously, "We'll do it, sir!"

Duan Feizhuo took out his own magic circle drawing, touched it lightly, and entered the trading bank.

In the real world, Wei Liu's mother and son are probably in a daze, right? The big living person who was standing in front of them just now disappeared in an instant, leaving only a piece of paper in place.

He opened the customer channel. A few seconds later, Wei Liu's mother and son staggered into the trading house. Duan Feizhuo hastily closed the passage to prevent other guests from entering by mistake.

"What is this place?" Mrs. Willow asked in astonishment as she looked at the display cabinet reaching the ceiling.

"Secret Realm Trading House." Duan Feizhuo smiled, "It's a shop specializing in the sale of secret art items. I'm the owner, Leo Chester." He gave his original name.

Al's face was full of admiration, "It's amazing! I knew you were not an ordinary person!"

Mrs. Viliu held her son and asked cautiously, "But why did you bring us here? We can't afford any occult items..."

Duan Feizhuo explained, "Guests of the trading house are restricted by the secret contract, and cannot reveal the identities of other guests and the owner of the trading house to third parties. I am afraid that that guy Smith will betray you, so I can only let you become guests of the trading house gone."

"Mr. Smith, he..."

Al grabbed his mother, regardless of his injuries, and told the battle between Duan Feizhuo and Smith with great interest, vividness, and embellishments.

His eloquence is excellent, and he portrays Duan Feizhuo as a **** of war who descends from the sky and turns the tide. Duan Feizhuo almost believed it when he heard it. This kid is really aggrieved if he doesn't talk about books.

"...So, you saved our mother and son." After listening to her son's narration, Mrs. Wei Liu also showed a reverent expression, "I don't know how to thank you..."

Duan Feizhuo waved his hand, "There's no need to thank you. Just don't tell the story."

Al looked at him with more reverence in his eyes, as if he was a saint who had thrown away his clothes and hidden his achievements and fame.

He tugged at his mother's sleeve, "Mom, since Mr. Chester is a businessman who specializes in buying and selling occult items, why don't we sell those things that grandpa left behind to him?"

"Referring to the lantern that Smith is so greedy for?" Duan Feizhuo asked.

Mrs. Willow shook her head, "That lamp is my father's relic. I don't intend to sell it. But my father left many other things. I always want to sell them, but I don't know who to sell them to." Her expression darkened, " I only know Smith as a mystic, but he is not interested in anything other than lanterns..."

Al said eagerly, "Master of the trading house, just go and take a look! Grandpa really left a lot of things! Our family is very short of money now..."

"Al!" Mrs. Willow scolded.

Duan Feizhuo scratched his head in embarrassment. He has no intention of running a trading house at all, and naturally he does not intend to do business seriously. But the economic situation of Willow mother and son is indeed embarrassing. Mrs. Lynn also said that in order to treat her husband's illness, their family borrowed everywhere, and the debts are already high, otherwise they would not have taken the pearl necklace to Mrs. Lynn to pay off the debt.

Duan Feizhuo has also tasted the taste of poverty, and he can empathize with it the most.

Just do business like this one time, don't take it as an example. After finishing this business, he will never get involved in the business of mystics again.

He was not doing it to make money, but to save the poor mother and child. The so-called helping people to the end! He suddenly felt that the red scarf on his chest was even more colorful!

"Then let me see." He puffed out his chest.

He asked Wei Liu and his son to leave the trading house first, and then followed him out. Al led him eagerly, and limped up the tailor's stairs.

They ascended the attic by narrow, steep stairs. Compared with the tidy shop downstairs, there are too many things piled up here. Crates are piled up one by one, all the way to the ceiling. It looks like someone has worked hard to sort out the sundries, but finally died due to the amount of sundries. Giving up, self-defeating and stuffing everything into the box.

"It's all of these." Al pointed to the crate that looked like a hill.

Duan Feizhuo was dumbfounded. Good guy, he thought he was here to buy high-quality goods, but he didn't expect to come to the wholesale market to buy goods? !

Al went to the nearest crate and opened the lid. It is full of all kinds of oddly shaped gadgets, polished round glass, worn-out dolls, stained dream catchers, and several missing tarot cards...

Some of them are unremarkable, while others exude a faint light. Since there is light, it means that there is a secret technique. But Duan Feizhuo has already noticed that the strength of the light represents the strength of the item itself. The brilliance of these items is so dim, which shows that their power is not strong, and they cannot be sold for any good price.

"My father enchants items himself, and also likes to travel around and collect interesting gadgets. Although there are many things here, not everything is a occult item," Mrs. Willow stepped up the stairs, apologetically, "I Let me show you..."

She was about to tell Duan Feizhuo that those items were ordinary items, but Duan Feizhuo had already skillfully picked out those items that didn't have any power and put them on the floor.

"How do you know?" Mrs. Willow asked in surprise.

"It's obvious at a glance." Duan Feizhuo shrugged, "If you can't even tell this, I might as well find a factory to work for."

Mrs. Wei Liu blushed, "I had some doubts about you at first, after all, you are so young... Now I am convinced."

"Mom, I told you that he is a great mystic! Why don't you believe me?" Al rarely complained about Duan Fei.

After picking out those ordinary items, there were more than a dozen items left in the box, each of which shimmered, and only one shimmered slightly. Duan Feizhuo counted the number of remaining boxes. Assuming that each box contains about the same amount of items, then all the occult items add up...

Mrs. Willow asked, "Sir, how much are these worth? Can it be a hundred pounds? I borrowed money everywhere to treat my husband, and I still owe the money. If I can pay off the money..." She stopped Come down, carefully observe Duan Feizhuo's expression.

"Madam, although you have a lot of things, I'm afraid you won't be able to sell them at a particularly high price."

"Really..." Mrs. Willow's expression darkened.

Duan Feizhuo couldn't bear to see her so disappointed.

He had a flash of inspiration.

"However, I have a way. Maybe I can sell more, but I need your consent."

Mrs. Willow hurriedly said, "Of course I agree! But what can I do?"

Duan Feizhuo crossed his hips, glanced at the piles of crates, and grinned, "It's time to show them the new business methods of the 21st century!"