Mystery: Mr. Witch and Ms. Hunter

Chapter 75 Haunted
His hand was very strong, and the speed at which he rushed to stop me just now did not seem like that of a man in his 50s or 60s...

Altaïr had his back to the other man, his mind racing.

After the contact just now, he initially suspected that Old Lynch was an Extraordinary Person, equivalent to a Sequence 9 with a strong physique, or a higher sequence with a relatively poor physique.

Altaïr turned around and continued to pretend to be a little stupid. At the same time, he quietly opened his spiritual vision and cast his eyes on the double door blocked by the spindle.

However, there was nothing behind the door. Within the range of spiritual vision, there were only dozens or hundreds of light balls symbolizing female textile workers. There were also a similar number of light balls behind that door, but they were weaker and their colors were dimmer.

Is that another factory area over there? Altaïr was a little confused. If it was just a corridor connecting two factories, there was no need to block it with such an excuse. Although exploiting workers was not a glorious thing, in the moral concept of the East District, it was not something that needed to be concealed.

Altaïr rubbed his eyes. The powerful psychic vision given to him by the Assassin could even be equivalent to perspective to a certain extent, but it was limited to the perspective of the existence of spirits. So even through the iron door, Altaïr could be sure that the light over there was undoubtedly a human, a real human.

"What are you still dawdling about?"

Just as Altaïr was stunned, old Lynch's crutch fell on his back with a "bang". It was much heavier than when he hit him, but he seemed to have controlled the strength and no longer used as much force as the first time he grabbed Altaïr.

"I'm warning you, don't follow that bastard Jack and look for women in the factory!" Old Lynch said angrily, "If you get a girl here pregnant, even if you let her give birth at her workstation, she will have to miss a week of work. Will you deduct the difference in pounds from you then?"

Old Lynch had a loud voice, and although the noise in the textile factory was quite loud, more than a dozen female workers heard his scolding.

However, what surprised Altaïr was that they did not show even the slightest touch on their faces when they saw the scene described by Old Lynch. They seemed to be completely numb to similar words. Altaïr felt that those vulgar words that could make noble ladies blush and make the middle class angry appeared as often as daily greetings in their world.

Moreover, none of them felt unfair or resentful about the fact that maternity leave was only one week...

Altaïr couldn't help but shudder. He remembered the wild Beyonders he had seen before, whose consciousness had been eliminated by the Nighthawks through surgery or abilities. Their white matter had been cut off, and they would just stay there quietly, like a puppet, slowly becoming covered with cracks as time passed.

"I'm leaving now." Altaïr dodged Old Lynch's stick and pretended to flee in a panic. When he stood at the door, he deliberately asked loudly, "So are you going to the bar tonight?"

"Go to hell!"

Old Lynch was furious, but Altaïr had already strode out of the factory area.

……

It was twelve o'clock, and there were less than ten minutes left until lunchtime... Artair glanced at his pocket watch and decided to leave the factory with the group of female workers who were having lunch.

Before that, I have to find a place where no one is around to hide. After all, I have changed my identity a lot, and it would be bad if I was recognized. It would be best if I could find a chance to do a simple disguise...

As Artair thought this, he took off his deerstalker hat and stuffed it into his shirt, buttoned up his coat, adjusted it slightly, and took out his folding glasses from his pocket and put them on his nose, thus changing his appearance from a slender gentleman to a slightly plump clerk.

Then he prepared to hide in the bathroom to avoid meeting too many people.

Just as he passed the corridor that old Lynch said was used for detour, he seemed to hear a faint groaning sound in his ears, as if a painful scream was reflected many times in the empty environment, and then the desperate echo remained under the weakening of the concrete.

Altaïr stopped abruptly and opened his spiritual vision. His other hand had already reached into his clothes, where there were "Requiem Charm" and "Sleeping Charm" that were also effective against wronged souls and ghosts.

However, there was nothing in his sight.

Altaïr frowned and approached the wall carefully. After making sure that there was no one around, he put his ear to the wall.

Now the sound was clearer: it was crying, crying at the top of one's lungs, as if it were the cry of an exhausted person, crying out completely on instinct.

The water here seems to be deeper than I thought...

Altaïr's eyes darkened, and he was about to leave when he was suddenly stopped by someone behind him.

"Who are you and what are you doing here? Don't you know you are not allowed to come near here?"

Altaïr looked back and saw a face that looked ordinary. It was featureless and almost impossible to remember his features. The moment he turned around, Altaïr saw his name tag: Ymir Smith.

Damn, I met the real boss...

Altair's head buzzed, but he kept talking, "I'm the maintenance worker hired by Mr. Buffett. He said that the wall here was converted from an air defense facility a long time ago, and many places have been in disrepair for a long time. He asked me to check it out. Just now, I lay on the wall and listened to the changes in the knocking sound to determine whether the inside of the wall was damaged."

Seeing the other party's doubt, Altaïr took the initiative to extend his dusty hand. "Meet me, I'm Jimmick, a safety officer at Backlund Construction Contracting Company."

He saw the name on the business card in the wallet of the unfortunate assassin he killed. This action was not intended to get closer to the other party, but simply to distract the other party and use a large amount of information to occupy the processing time of the other party's brain, so that he would no longer think about the loopholes in the previous sentence.

"Oh..." Smith obviously didn't react, and shook hands with Altaïr in a daze. "I'm Ymir Smith, the financial director of this company."

"It's almost time for dinner. Do you know of any good places to eat nearby? I mean, the kind that's suitable for people like me who do heavy manual labor."

Without giving the other party time to think, Altaïr immediately threw out a new question.

"Ah, this..." Under Altaïr's guidance, Smith began to seriously think about which restaurant was better. At this moment, the bell for the end of work suddenly rang.

"Ah, it's already twelve o'clock!" Altaïr glanced at his pocket watch and said in surprise, "I have to continue surveying in the afternoon. Goodbye, Mr. Smith."

After saying this, he bowed slightly, and soon returned the same way, blending into the crowd leaving the factory. Mr. Smith was still standing there, seemingly still thinking about where to have lunch.

While he was thinking, his eyes kept scanning the wall.

(End of this chapter)