Mystery: The Traveler Who Holds the Star Key

Sunday morning.

The fog in Backlund was thicker than usual, carrying a damp, sooty smell.

For most decent people, this is a good day to pray in church or stay in bed.

But for some who need to find the truth in the shadows, the work has only just begun.

15 Minsk Street.

Klein was facing the mirror, skillfully attaching a fake beard to his face.

He disguised his originally refined appearance as that of a rough, mediocre blue-collar worker.

Orion was sitting on the sofa, tidying up a gray robe stained with oil.

His persona today is that of a "wandering doctor" who sells cheap folk remedies in the slums.

"Do we really have to go to the East District? The air quality there isn't very good right now."

Orion fiddled with a brass coin in his hand, looking at the fully armed Krishnamurti.

"Do you remember that poor wretch in the newspaper who died in a gas explosion?"

Klein pulled his baseball cap down low, obscuring half his face, his voice deep and calm:

"That's the bounty hunter lady's informant. Just the day before yesterday, he was still helping me find out about someone."

He paused, his tone revealing a sharpness and chilling edge characteristic of a great detective:

"Then, he died 'accidentally'."

"What a coincidence."

"It's such a coincidence that it's like... someone is deliberately cleaning the room and taking out the trash."

Orion's fingertip was suddenly pressed down on the coin, the cold metal making his fingertip turn white.

He understood.

That name, like a bloodstained poisonous thorn, instantly pierced the silence in the air—

Lanius.

That fraudster who swindled countless poor people out of their life-saving money in Tingen.

That madman who offered up the entire city as a sacrifice to please an evil god.

He was also the mastermind behind the near-total annihilation of the Night Watch squad and the death of Captain Dunn Smith.

He carries not only the sins of money, but also the blood of those who protected him and the cries of countless broken families.

Kill the informant?

Ha, this is exactly in line with that beast's style of treating human life like dirt.

"Understood."

Orion stood up, flicked the coin into the air, caught it steadily, and a playful smile curved his lips:

"Let's go, boss. Let's see if we can catch him red-handed."

……

Eastside.

A corner forgotten by God.

This is a festering sore in Backlund, crowded, filthy, and overflowing with sewage.

It's common for five or six people to be crammed into the same cramped room.

For even a penny of wages, people here are willing to sell their dignity, and even their lives.

Klein pulled his hat down low as he walked through the muddy streets.

He saw those numb eyes, and he saw children rummaging through garbage for food.

That heavy sense of oppression reminded him of Tingen, and of the team member who died because he couldn't afford medical treatment.

"That's reality, boss."

Orian, disguised as a traveling doctor beside him, spoke with less of his usual playfulness and more of a cold, hard tone:

"To certain lofty 'divine beings,' these people's lives are not even worth as much as an ant's."

Just then, a hunched figure caught their attention.

It was an old man in tattered clothes, huddled in a corner, trembling as he gnawed on an apple core he had picked up from the mud.

Old Kohler.

Klein recognized that look.

Those were the eyes of someone on the verge of despair, struggling simply to "live".

Klein stopped in his tracks.

He didn't say anything, but silently walked into the cheap coffee shop next door.

I bought two hot ham sandwiches and a large cup of cheap black tea.

"Eat."

He handed the food to the old man.

Old Kohler looked up in horror, his cloudy eyes filled with disbelief.

After confirming that the "kind worker" in front of him was not joking.

He wolfed down his food, not even bothering to wipe the mud off his fingers.

Klein watched quietly until the old man finished eating, then he took out a handful of pennies and put them into the old man's hand.

"Here's the interview fee. I'd like to hear if you've seen any... strange people lately."

Orian leaned against the wall beside him, watching this scene unfold.

He neither intervened nor mocked Klopp's "unnecessary move."

In this world full of madness and mystery.

Klein's somewhat clumsy kindness may be his final anchor as a "human being".

What a...gentle avenger.

Taking advantage of the lull in Klein's conversation with old Kohler.

Orion's fingers twitched slightly.

A gold coin, as if it had a life of its own, slipped into old Kohler's patched pocket.

He showed no sympathy, only rubbing his fingers together impatiently.

"The king's portrait on this gold coin is printed crookedly, which is really annoying."

"Since this old man likes picking up trash so much, let this 'defective product' wreak havoc on his pockets."

As for whether old Kohler would think it was a miracle after he discovered it.

Who cares.

Orion just wanted to get rid of the coin that was triggering his obsessive-compulsive disorder as soon as possible.

"Let's go."

Having obtained the clue, Klein stood up and dusted himself off.

His gaze was even more determined than before.

……

When Detective Klein hid in a dead end and played a game called "fortune telling" that actually terrified him, he turned pale.

Orion was outside, idly betting on when the lazy ant would die.

The intelligence Klein brought back was simple: two meters tall, with the aura of a wild beast.

Orion immediately understood: "That's 'Giant,' the Aurora Society's top enforcer."

The conclusion is terrible:

Lanius is not a lone wolf; he is the dog that the Aurora Club walks on a leash.

This means it's not just a scam, but a cult sacrifice.

Orion's reaction?

He expressed his regret:

"What a pity. If we had captured that hairless giant ape and put it in the circus, the ticket price would definitely be higher than that of the curly-haired baboon."

They then split into two groups.

Klein went to the banquet and acted like a respectable person.

Orion went to the dock area to "prevent his teammates from feeding kills".

He spotted the 1.5-meter-tall wild "arbitrator" at a glance, preparing to charge at Lanius like an angry hamster.

Orion didn't move, but flicked a coin and tripped a drunkard.

Clang.

Once the chaos was over, Lanius cautiously left, forcibly interrupting Hugh's suicidal charge.

Orion did not give chase.

He simply slipped a note into the empty bottle and left it to the future judge:

"To that beautiful and kind-hearted rich woman: That con artist rat has been hiding in the sewers lately. Please send someone to scoop it out; I'm wearing new shoes today and don't want to get my feet dirty."

After seeing Hugh off, Orion did not leave the East District.

Since we're putting on a grand show, how could we leave out this "best leading man"?

……

Half an hour later, a sleazy-looking man reeking of rotten food and with a hunched back appeared in the black market.

He bought a jar of cheap grease for a few pence and smeared it all over his hair, then stuck a disgusting fake sore on his face.

The elegant and mysterious "tower" has disappeared.

Instead, there was a "sewer rat" with shifty eyes, greedy yet cowardly.

In the shadows of the alley behind that red-brick building, he was pulling a drunken homeless man along, deliberately lowering his voice, and performing a one-man show called "A Rare Commodity to Hoard":

"Get lost! You think you can buy that road for five pence?"

Orion shook off the homeless man's hand with a look of disgust. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried well into the depths of the alley.

"That's the 'private avenue' leading to the docks! The whole city's under lockdown; that's the only way to avoid police searches! Less than a pound is out of the question!"

"Avoid the police" and "private passage".

These two keywords were like bloody chunks of meat, precisely thrown into the cage of a hungry beast.

The moment the bait was cast, the surface of the water exploded.

A huge hand suddenly emerged from the shadows, roughly shoved the homeless man aside, and grabbed Orion by the back of the neck like a chick.

There were no words, only suffocating force and a low, thunderous roar:

You're saying... you can avoid the police?

……

A dark and damp basement.

With a "bang," Orion was slammed hard onto the sewage-splattered ground.

He did not resist, but instead curled up into a ball, trembling all over.

"I heard you're selling roads?"

A refined, gentle voice, yet tinged with a chilling undertone, rang out.

Orion raised his head cautiously.

Lanius was sitting on a worn-out wooden box, slowly wiping his gold-rimmed glasses.

He looked down at the "bug" at his feet, his eyes filled with the scrutiny and contempt of someone in a superior position.

"No...don't kill me!"

Orion's voice was sharp and trembling, but his eyes were fixed on the bulging money pouch at Lanluus's waist, and his Adam's apple bobbed violently.

"Sir...Sir! I don't want to die...I just want some money for drinks! I know a deserted road! Really!"

Lanius put his glasses back on, a glint of light flashing behind the lenses.

He saw fear, but he saw greed even more.

This is his favorite human sample—

A piece of trash who'll sell anything for money.

"very good."

A graceful smile played on Lanius's lips as he leaned forward, as if observing a fish that had taken the bait.

"If the road is real, I'll buy your life."