Wizard Earl

At this point, Gagliardini paused slightly, glancing around quickly out of the corner of his eye. Unfortunately, it was as if the person who had asked him the question in the room didn't exist at all; he couldn't find him anywhere. Disappointed, Gagliardini gritted his teeth and continued, "I once witnessed them hiding wine in the wood when I was on night watch in the warehouse."

"At that time, Marat Gregorian was very respectful to an old man with bodyguards, constantly referring to him as Mr. Ferguson. So I think this matter may be related to the Ferguson family in Frosinone."

After saying all this, Gagliardini was filled with fear and unease, his face reflecting a hint of despair. He knew that if what he had said were exposed, his boss, Marat Grigorian, and the possible mastermind, Sir Alex Ferguson, might be fine, but he, Gagliardini, a mere warehouse watchman, would certainly be in trouble…

In his despair, Gagliardini waited to see what the deep voice would ask next. After a full three minutes, the voice finally spoke again.

"Very well, Gagliardini, your honesty has earned you a day. See you tomorrow!"

Before Gagliardini could react, the voice disappeared from the room. While Gagliardini was lost in thought, perhaps as a reward, the burly man who had initially looked menacing returned to the dimly lit room. The man first untied Gagliardini, lowered him from the wooden stake, and then brought him a bowl of water and two black bread rolls.

Upon seeing the food and water, Gagliardini's eyes lit up immediately. He didn't care about anything else and started wolfing down the food, grabbing his face. When he first woke up, he was shrouded in fear, and his heart was filled with nothing but fear and sadness. He didn't even feel hungry. But now that his attention was not so focused and his body was relaxed, the feeling of hunger immediately came over him.

After eating a piece of black bread and feeling some relief from his hunger, Gagliardini slowed down his eating pace and began to chew slowly. A few seconds later, he seemed to realize something, stopped eating, and stared intently at the bread in his hand.

Looking at the black bread in his hand, Gagliardini was even more certain that the people who had kidnapped him here were not Frosinone's gang!

The reason is simple: as the staple food of the lower-income class in this world, it is not easy to digest. Gagliardini eats a piece of black bread that can last for a long time, which is the food he eats forty or fifty times a month. He is very familiar with this kind of food. The black bread that this strong man gave him is called black bread, and it doesn't look much different from the black bread he usually eats.

However, Gagliardini, after tasting it, could clearly feel that the dark bread he was eating was far superior to the dark bread he usually bought from street bakeries with his meager salary. It was softer, contained far fewer impurities, and had a sweeter flavor…

Gagliardini was certain that the dark bread he was eating would cost at least a penny at the bakery on his street, which meant that the food the burly man had given him was worth at least two pennies!

In Frosinone, it wasn't uncommon for gangsters to kidnap people like him, and being tortured to death after being kidnapped was even more common. So, after being kidnapped, let alone black bread, it was already considered a blessing to have a mouthful of corn porridge. Gagliardini had never heard of a gang that would give someone like him two pence a meal. Even a small-time gang leader might not receive that much for a meal.

From this, we can deduce that the person who arrested him is definitely not a gangster, but rather a person or organization that is more powerful and wealthy than a gangster!

The burly man who was watching Gagliardini eat frowned when he saw Gagliardini staring blankly at the bread in his hand, seemingly lost in thought. Noticing the change in the man's expression, Gagliardini immediately tensed up again, fearing that the man would snatch the soft black bread from his hand. Without hesitation, he immediately ate the entire bread and then drank the bowl of water in one gulp.

After eating and drinking his fill, Gagliardini instinctively stretched lazily. But before he could finish stretching, the fierce-looking burly man standing next to him shoved him back onto the wooden stake, making a move to tie him up.

Because he could feel the explosive power contained in the strong man's muscles, Gagliardini, who was limping on one leg, knew that if he did anything unwise, the consequences would be dire. So he wisely chose not to resist and obediently let the strong man tie his limbs with rope.

After binding his limbs, the burly man was about to stuff the rag that had fallen to the ground back into Gagliardini's mouth. But this time, Gagliardini, having had enough, refused to have his mouth gagged. He pleaded with the man, "For the sake of the Storm Goddess, I will be very quiet and won't say a word. Please, brother, don't make me bite the rag anymore..."

When Gagliardini uttered the words "Storm Goddess," a strange glint flashed in the eyes of this seemingly fierce and burly man, and he paused in his act of stuffing a rag into Gagliardini's mouth.

"Are you a follower of the Storm Goddess?" After a moment's hesitation, the burly man spoke for the first time, asking Gagliardini:

Upon hearing the burly man's question, the quick-witted Gagliardini immediately knew he had a chance. Although he didn't know why the man would ask him that question, to avoid having his mouth stuffed with a dirty rag again, he quickly nodded and said:

"Of course, not only am I a follower of the Storm Goddess, but my whole family are followers of the Storm Goddess. When I was just born, I even went to our temple and was baptized by the pastor of the Storm Church. Although my income has been average over the years, I go to the Storm Church every week to pray. I am the most devout follower of the Storm Goddess!"