Mr. Rat of the Steam World

Chapter 41 Self-defeating
The next day, Zell woke up in bed, quickly threw off the wool blanket, and the first thing he did was rush to the window, slightly hook the curtains open with his fingers, and press his face against the cold glass to look down.

The morning mist had not yet dissipated, casting a gray haze over the wedge-shaped intersection of the three alleyways of Gray Street.

The alleyway remained deathly silent. The dark alleyway connected by the back door was deserted. Only two dockworkers hurriedly walked by, their necks hunched over, in the alleyway on the left leading to the dock warehouse.

There were already a few pedestrians on the main street. A breakfast vendor with a wooden cart was slowly setting up his stall. The rising steam was particularly noticeable in the cold air. Across the street, the iron gate of a grocery store was pulled open with a clatter, and the shopkeeper sleepily carried out trays of goods.

Everything remained the same as usual, with nothing unusual.

Zell stopped what he was doing, rubbed his temples wearily, and slowly walked to the bathroom to turn on the tap.

Crash.

He felt a little more awake after the cold water was poured on his face.

Unlike the dilapidated appearance of the brick building, the interior of his room on the third floor was luxurious.

Just look at the washroom in front of you. The countertop is made of smooth marble, with a silver kettle and basin on it. Next to it is a glass bottle containing an amber liquid, which emits a faint scent of pine when opened.

Since it was a safe room prepared in advance, given my previous wealth, I wouldn't skimp on myself. The only problem is that the food stored here is all canned food with a long shelf life, so sometimes I have to go out to buy fresh food.

Of course, he also needed to check daily on whether the Sherlock detective had any new progress in his investigation, so it wasn't entirely because of his whims about food.

After washing up, Zell had a simple breakfast and then began his repetitive training routine.

Various unarmed training exercises, short knife drills, and rapid gun draw.

When I got tired, I would read the newspaper. At least for the time being, there were no wanted notices or even news of the steel tycoon's death. The conflict was simply covered up with vague statements.

There wasn't much else to do in such a small room, and we continued on and off until 5 p.m.

After tidying himself up and putting on his hat, Zell glanced out the window at the street scene; everything seemed normal.

So I went downstairs.

As usual, I went to the liaison point cabin to check if there were any mailboxes in the pneumatic mail system, but they were still empty.

With a curse under his breath, Zell was about to close the door and leave when he suddenly caught a glimpse of a letter that had appeared on the table inside the room. He was stunned for a moment, then quickly walked to the door and looked around. He looked at the door again and found that there was no sign of any damage.

"The letter was delivered personally; is the person still nearby?"

His heart was in turmoil, but with people coming and going on the street, he couldn't tell who was in trouble. However, his preconceived notions made him feel as if there really was another pair of eyes watching him.

Zell hesitated for a moment before carefully walking to the table, picking up the letter, and opening it. The moment he saw the contents, his pupils contracted sharply, followed by a huge sense of surprise.

"There's a result?!"

All previous vigilance vanished in an instant. Zell even came up with a reason for Sherlock's personal delivery: he must have sent the letter in person to get the money faster.

After all, the letter stated that if the transaction was confirmed and agreed upon, he would know simply by placing a tree branch over the window.

"Good good."

Zell clenched his fist excitedly, paced back and forth with the letter in his hand, thought for a moment, quickly closed the door, and hurriedly walked in one direction of the street.

In a beautifully decorated flower shop, the twilight streams through the bright windows, casting dappled light and shadow on the various flowers and greenery. The shop is filled with a delicate floral fragrance, creating a sense of tranquility and comfort.

In this sea of ​​flowers, an ordinary-looking man stands in front of a wooden workbench, intently pruning the flower branches in front of him.

His movements were skillful and gentle, as if the scissors in his hands were an extension of his body. With each pruning, he could accurately grasp the length and angle of the flower branches, allowing them to display their most beautiful posture.

Just then, Zell rushed over and saw the young man's state. He quickly stopped and waited quietly for the other man to finish what he was doing before cautiously speaking.

"Mr. Ben, the results are here."

The man called Ben raised an eyebrow, reached out and took the letter from Zell's hand, quickly glancing at its contents.

Zell asked cautiously, "Should I contact them directly to confirm the result?"

“No rush, who knows if the information is accurate.” Ben casually tossed the letter aside after reading it. “But since the goods are to be shipped out in the next few days, it means that the shipment is already stored at the port. Why don’t we just check?” Zell was taken aback and hesitated. “There are too many warehouses in a large port like Blue Reef, and each one is guarded. I’m afraid it’s too late for me to check them one by one.”

"I didn't expect you to be the only one."

Ben glanced at Zell, put down the scissors, and wiped his hands.

"Let's go, let's go check out Blue Reef Harbor."

……

The leaden clouds hung low, turning the Manchester River into a murky sheet of tinfoil. Porters carrying large sacks hurried across the gangplank, their shouts mingling with the distant whistles of cargo ships, like a melody of a boat song.

The wind was strong tonight, rattling the metal doors of the warehouses throughout the port. The dim lights illuminated the wooden crates piled up to the ceiling, and brown tea dust or the pungent aroma of spices peeked out from the gaps in some of the crates.

Customs officers in uniform were stamping the shipping manifest with brass sealing wax when two unfamiliar faces walked in without warning.
"You are?"

Ben simply waved his hand and said, "Go check the list of recently received goods."

The customs officer's expression changed, and he opened his mouth to reprimand him, but then he noticed that the man had simply leaned over slowly and patted him lightly on the shoulder.

"You... yawn~" The customs officer's eyelids grew increasingly tired. He opened his mouth, but in the end, he collapsed weakly to the ground.

Zell glanced enviously at Benn's abilities, but quickly flipped through the browsing list in his hands before pointing swiftly to a pile of boxes in the storage area.

“This one.”

pat, pat.

Slender branches grew from the ground, and then Zell gently pried open all the wooden crates in the area, quickly running over to examine them one by one.

"No."

"Then let's go, next room."

They checked each warehouse one by one, and after a while—

Zell carefully brushed aside the wood shavings used for camouflage, revealing metal parts that had been carefully disassembled and neatly secured within the sponge filling.

"found it!"

These were not the rough, everyday blocks of steel, but rather intricate creations that shimmered with a distinctive dark silver luster. Although he didn't know exactly what they were meant to be assembled for, Zell, being from a steel mill, could still recognize quite a few things.

A quick glance reveals gears of various sizes, scales, lever arms, pneumatic plungers...

Zell exclaimed excitedly, "The Holy Orion Empire's industrial revolution is lagging behind, and its precision manufacturing industry is weak. Not to mention the current tense relations, even when trade between the two countries was normal, it would have been impossible to allow these machines to pass through. That Biden guy is definitely suspicious!"

……

……

"hiss."

Outside the port, Lu Ran stood watching the two people inspecting the warehouse items one by one in the distance, looking utterly exasperated.

Wouldn't this expose my mistake? There's no such thing as precision machinery.

Lu Ran had already considered this possibility, but considering that the other party might not have the energy to check each one, he was also prompted by the cargo ship that could leave at any time, creating a sense of urgency. He never expected that the extraordinary person would take the trouble to personally take action.

Fortunately, the result was correct. Since the flower shop has been found, let's just let it go.

As Lu Ran was calculating when would be the best time to rob that guy Zell, the flower shop owner walked out all by himself the next second.

Lu Ran looked left and right, waited for a while, and then a look of surprise flashed across his face: "No, where is Ze'er?"

(End of this chapter)