Oliver took a step back without leaving a trace, and the soles of his shoes were almost stuck by the dirt on the ground.

He has dealt with quite a few real businessmen, and there is no negotiation in the tone of this eccentric visitor. It's less like a transaction request, more like an order or an elaboration of an existing result. Oliver couldn't see the expression behind the white cloth, but his intuition was desperately screaming vigilance. He subconsciously held his breath like a beast, staring at the figure in the shadow.

"I'm afraid not, my lord." Another voice answered him. A thin old man came slowly and entered Oliver's field of vision. His back was badly hunched, his ribs protruding unnaturally forward, and he looked like a living skeleton. "There's still some value in that, and Alban would be more than happy to have a silent knight put to death in public."

He rolled his eyes and glanced in Oliver's direction, and there were two murky laughter in his chest. "Young, handsome, and worth seeing."

The man with his face wrapped in white cloth said nothing, he silently turned his face to the direction of the old man.

"Just kidding." The old man continued to laugh slyly, "I don't think Alban will have trouble with you—ah, of course, of course." He turned his head to the side, Oliver said Only then did I see the appearance of the other half of the old man's face - the dry and wrinkled flesh was embedded with rough crystals, and the intertwined crystal pillars seemed to be some kind of parasite rooted in the skull. One of the crystals was flickering, but Oliver didn't hear any sound coming from it.

"Originally this kid... um, can sell for 400,000." The old man turned his face again, rubbing his hands like a fly. "The meaning of Alban's side - you see, after all you have contributed. Three hundred and fifty thousand gold coins."

The eccentric remained silent.

"There's been a lot of chaos on the Albans side lately, and they're more than happy to kill this kid to appease the populace - there's nothing more inspiring than hitting the abyss."

Three million. Oliver thought stiffly, he and Nemo had been wandering around for so long with a reward of three thousand gold coins—not to mention the actual three thousand gold coins, not even the numbers in their team accounts had ever been this large. He was a little dazed for a moment, glanced at the gap in the armor at the wrist, and made sure that there was no flowing gold inside.

However, this number sounds familiar, and he seems to have heard it once.

Never mind.

Is the Silent Knight so valuable? Oliver recalled the capture process and didn't think it was much harder than capturing a pheasant. But now is not the time to think wildly, he bit his lower lip and focused his attention back. He didn't even dare to breathe loudly, for fear of missing some details.

This time the eccentric nodded.

"Then follow the process..."

"I said, we want it now." The man said in a hoarse voice, turned around and walked towards the exit, seemingly not intending to give the other party another chance to bargain. "Deal with it, we'll take him with today's goods later."

The half of the old man's face towards Oliver was visibly contorted, but he made no protest.

It's clear now - at least until he can explain all the weirdness. Oliver stayed in the cage obediently, as quiet as a real silent knight, as if he could not understand the conversation between the two.

He was targeted, before he got here. Looking at the eager attitude of the other party, he noticed that he should not have too long - after all, if he wants to be convicted, it is enough for him to drag out the matter of destroying Vincent Town. They spent a lot of money for him, and it should not be for profit, at least not directly.

The group of people eyeing him obviously have some kind of partnership with this place. From his observations, this place seems to be able to deal with the armies of many countries, and the scale is not small. It should be similar to some kind of joint trial institution. And the weirdo didn't seem so polite just now...

Are you a Mooney? Oliver frantically racked his brains. No, no, the Mooneys clearly knew that he wasn't really a silent knight. They also did not contact after their capture, according to the judge. Those anxious to convict him seem uninterested in his charges, and it seems far-fetched to say that he was bought for religious purposes.

They even tend to hide the fact that "he's not a silent knight" from people here, rather than not interested.

Things may be worse than he thought. Oliver couldn't think of anything else he could contrive. He ruled out all possible reasons, and there was only one answer left—

His power.

That should be a third party he doesn't know about. Oliver rubbed the hilt of his sword, confirming his guess. While he was thinking, the old man directly instructed two women into his cell.

Or, what appears to be a woman's "thing".

Oliver looked alertly at the two women who were wearing a large piece of white cloth. Under the white cloth, you could see some uneven lines. But he didn't approach them or touch the hilt of his sword—on the one hand, he really had no intention of taking these two hostages; on the other hand, he didn't think the people in this place would be stupid enough to give him this chance.

His guess turned out to be correct.

They approached him softly, and then the white cloth was ripped apart violently, followed by a crisp metal-to-metal crash. Two terrifying-looking metal puppets showed their full appearance behind the white cloth—one of them tied him tightly from behind, and the other drew spells with its twitching metal ribs like insect feet. The spell covered him like rain, and every seam of the armor was gone.

Oliver's heart almost jumped out of his throat when the spell wrapped around the sword of rest - fortunately, there was no sound similar to an alarm, and the puppets did not respond.

"There is no potential threat." After ten minutes, they finally reacted and reported stiffly.

"Lock the collar." The old man nodded, and the smiling face just now disappeared. "By the way, untie the **** of the voice."

The puppet's sharp, pointed fingers brushed against the skin of Oliver's neck, adjusting the metal collar tinklingly. Like a cold blade brushing against his skin, he instantly got goosebumps.

The throat relaxed a little, but Oliver still didn't make a sound.

His plans haven't changed - struggling now is a stupid idea and will only attract the guards of the place. It is better to show weakness first and let the other party relax relatively. The moment they took him out of here would be the perfect opportunity for him to escape.

A shriek suddenly erupted from the outside of the cage, and within a few seconds, the puppet dragged a fat figure passing by in front of his cell. McCain was spread out like a sack of bulging acorns, dragged unconsciously. Oliver took a deep breath, trying to squeeze the power in his body, trying not to let it leak out—

The puppet pressed his slender fingers against his collar, and the next moment, the simple and rough pain penetrated directly into his brain. It came very quickly and without warning, as if someone had poured a spoon of hot molten iron directly into his brain.

Oliver gritted his teeth, sure he tasted blood in his mouth. The accumulated strength made him bear it, and he kept a little sober, but the lingering pain did not disappear because of it. Without hesitation, Oliver threw himself to the ground, closed his eyes, and tried to control the rhythm of his breathing.

One of the puppets walked around him a few times. Metal feet stomped on thick filth, making a sickening croak. Oliver had an illusion, it seemed to be stepping on his viscera that was twisted by tension - after an unknown amount of time, the puppet was still for a moment, and finally grabbed Oliver's armor and dragged the "unconscious" him out.

Success or failure. Oliver thought to himself, letting go of the last ounce of strength that had gathered from his limbs.

Roscoe's Forest Edge.

"We first teleport to Kenyatta on the border, then from Kenyatta to Noe. Finally, walk from Noe to Signpost Town." Ann tapped the map with her fingertips, "Nimo And the identities of Cross are too sensitive, the old school of Ruddism is prevalent on Alban's side, and they will be torn apart in the regular passage." She raised her head and glanced at Nemo. "...I'll use an attitude analogy."

Nemo pulled his hair up hastily, still looking very unmotivated. Colestroro circled him suspiciously, and Nemo ignored him in a rare fashion. Grey parrot tentatively tried to fly over his shoulder, but after Nemo glanced up at it, it slammed on the brakes and flew back to Jesse Dylan's shoulder.

"I have a remaining coordinate address here." Vergil said, peeking out of the corner of his eyes at Colestoro who was spinning. "You can go there to the nearest mercenary guild branch, where you can easily find the transit station to Garland... I won't go with you."

"Thank you." Ann took the parchment on which the self-made teleportation array was drawn unceremoniously. "Remember to sign our deed, boss."

The vitality in her voice returned a little, but the atmosphere was still like a pool of stagnant water. There is a faint sense of rupture in the team, and no amount of positive attitude can hide this.

Probably no black chapter team is so unlucky-the name was just set, and the team leader was lost in the first mission.

The female warrior sighed softly, and she opened the palm of her other hand, revealing the scorched black surveillance bugs. She lowered her head to look at the disgusting bugs, which pressed against her heart like a boulder.

What if she caught them sooner?

She blamed herself for being too focused, not noticing the sudden stop of Colestoro's circling movement - the white demon came up to her and pinched one mercilessly.

Then moved smoothly into her mouth.

Ann: "…"

Fergil silently looked away.

"The gatekeeper's stuff." The demon said softly, swallowing the worm down his throat, his voice cold and angry like never before. "Have their taste."

Nimo appeared in front of him the next second and grabbed the devil's wrist directly. "Who?"

"Gatekeeper." Colestolo frowned at that hand.

"Sorry." Nemo released his grip on the man's wrist. Thanks to the book collection of the Abyss Church, he does have a little understanding of the gatekeeper - the gatekeeper is just watching the battle between O'Lori and the Abyss Church. Why is he interested in Oliver?

"They're still here." Colestoro's smile looked distorted and unpleasant, and a bloodthirsty light flashed in his eyes for a moment. "If you want to kill them and save your comrade, I can help—"

"I… investigate first." Nemo tried to force a smile, his voice was a little dry, "And you need to rest."

Colestoro blinked, and the displeasure on his face quickly turned to pity. And Vergil sighed slightly, silently signed his name on the task scroll, and the contract disappeared in the firelight. "Calm down, Colesi."

"The teleportation array is drawn." This time it was Adrian who spoke.

Everyone moved quickly this time, but the mood was a little different from when they came. Compared with the current state of mind, the anxiety and worry at the time are hardly worth mentioning. This time, Nemo stepped into the teleportation formation for the first time, and his figure disappeared instantly.

"Don't worry about us," he left the words short and serious, "I hope you don't have to be separated again."

Ann sighed and followed the goat, followed by Jesse Dylan—

"I should have left you guys... I don't know how to express my gratitude." Vergil let out a sigh and said to Adrian Cross who was walking at the end. "I won't waste your time now. If Mr. Ramon needs our help with anything, just post the task directly in the guild, and I will respond as soon as possible."

He smiled at him, bowed deeply, and the huge bony hand behind him lowered slightly to his movements. "Also, this is a personal thank you...for your 'tolerance'."

Adrian was silent for a moment, and his complex eyes swept over the bone hands. Nodding, the last one stepped into the formation.

"Duri," Colestoro stared at the destroyed teleportation formation. "Are they all right? That Wright smells a little off - he doesn't even ask me about the 'gatekeeper'."

"If you mean the issue of power, I don't think you need to worry." Vergil looked at his hands, "As for intelligence..."

"I can smell them, we can pick them up—"

"...Mr. Wright said you need to rest first."

Crestolo's expression became serious, and Vergil looked at him silently.

"What is 'resting'?" After thinking for a while, Colestoro asked calmly. The word has always been far away from him.

"I've been to many places, including glaciers at the end of the world. We can help them in other ways—more gentle ways." Only trembling hands. "I'm going to investigate the current situation of the gatekeeper. Would you like to come with me?"

"...line."

(m..=)