Chapter 196

Chapter 196

Morning light pierced through the thin mist of the Blue Light Zone, casting a pale golden hue over the gray streets. Evan wrapped his cloak tighter, his steps brisk as he weaved through the awakening alleys. The residual spiritual warmth from last night's advancement still flowed within him, sharpening his perception of surrounding dangers.

Avoiding a few drunken armed men at a street corner, he spotted the stone building with the palm leaf sign—the Palm Leaf Supernatural Club. Pushing open the familiar oak door, the rich aroma of ale mixed with tobacco greeted him.

Compared to the bustling trade of the night, the club was quieter in the early morning, with only a few tables of patrons murmuring—mostly Supernaturals waiting for tasks or exchanging intel.

The bartender from last night was wiping glasses. Seeing Evan enter, he looked up with a smile: "Advancement go smoothly? You look a lot more lively than last night."

Evan walked to the counter and sat down, nodding in reply: "Thanks to you, everything went well. I'm here to pick up a few bounty jobs."

The bartender set down his glass, pulled a thick leather-bound task ledger from under the counter, and slid it to Evan: "All the tasks are in here. But I should warn you, low-difficulty tasks don't pay much, and high-difficulty ones are too dangerous. With your strength as a newly advanced Sequence 8, you'll need to choose carefully." He paused, as if recalling something, then added, "Oh, a new task came in this morning—moderate difficulty, decent pay. Might suit you."

"Oh?" Evan looked up at him. "What kind of task?"

"An escort mission to the Eleventh Island, protecting a wealthy merchant's daughter for a week." The bartender flipped through the ledger as he spoke, stopping at a certain page. "The employer is a wealthy merchant from the mainland named Gray. His daughter is going to stay at their estate on the Eleventh Island. He's worried about undead attacks on the way and possible dangers on the island, so he's offering 300 Gold Sala as a reward, requiring at least a Sequence 8 Supernatural for escort."

Evan's eyes fell on the entry in the ledger, his fingers lightly tapping the counter as he quickly did the math. 300 Gold Sala was a decent sum—enough to buy basic materials for making puppets, with some left over for daily expenses. The one-week duration was also reasonable. He asked, curious, "The Eleventh Island? I haven't heard much about it. Is it a complicated place?"

"Not too complicated, but not simple either." The bartender picked up a kettle, poured Evan a glass of warm water, and explained slowly, "It's a plantation island. Interestingly, the soil there is exceptionally fertile because of thousands of years of accumulated bird droppings. Decades ago, local rich merchants saw its potential and developed several large estates, mainly growing sugarcane and grapes for making rum and sugar."

"The laborers on the island are all natives from the Fourth Island?" Evan recalled the native shaman he'd dealt with when trading rain-grass.

"That's right, all natives." The bartender's tone turned heavier. "Over a decade ago, the colonial authorities abolished slavery under pressure, and those natives were freed from being slaves. But as you know, that abolition was far from thorough. Their wages are only a quarter of what poor whites on the island earn, yet they do the hardest work—toiling from dawn to dusk in the sugarcane fields and vineyards, heavily exploited by the estate owners."

Evan frowned, a complex emotion stirring within him.

He had spent some time on the Fourth Island and knew well the harsh plight of the natives. But he also knew he had his own problems to deal with, let alone change anything. Shaking off his thoughts, he looked at the bartender: "I'll take this task. Do I need to meet the employer?"

The bartender smiled, pulling a sealed letter from a drawer: "No need. The employer has written all the relevant details inside—departure time, meeting point, and the young lady's basic information. Just follow the instructions. After the task is completed, someone will deliver the reward to the club, and you can collect it directly."

Evan took the letter, his fingers brushing the wax seal, confirming it hadn't been tampered with. He stood up and nodded to the bartender: "Thanks." Then he turned and headed for the door, already planning his next steps—returning to prepare necessary supplies and familiarizing himself with the task details to ensure a flawless escort.

Back at the inn, Evan immediately cracked the seal on the letter.

The handwriting on the paper was neat and clear, besides specifying the departure time as the next morning at the hour of Chen (around 7:45 AM), it also stated the meeting point as the Red Anchor Pier in the southern part of the city. The employer's daughter was named Lillian Gray, only sixteen years old, with a rather reserved personality. Evan carefully folded the letter and tucked it into his chest pocket, then began organizing his travel gear—three palm-sized crude wooden puppets he had made, some demon-slaying bullets and a pistol properly stored, checking the hidden pockets in his cloak for emergency Silver Keren and a short defensive knife. Finally, he packed the bronze cauldron into his bag before washing up and resting, conserving energy for the next day's journey.

The next day, just as dawn broke, Evan was already up.

After a quick breakfast of a wheat cake, he shouldered his pack and set off. The early mist in the Blue Light Zone had yet to fully dissipate, with only a few vendors tidying their stalls in the streets. The air smelled of salty seawater and baked wheat cakes. The Red Anchor Pier was not far from his inn—a half-hour walk brought him there.

Several sailboats flying different flags were moored at the pier, waves lapping against the stone steps with a rhythmic sound.

Dockworkers bustled about, carrying cargo, their shouts mingling with the splash of oars and the cries of seagulls, creating a lively, earthy atmosphere. Evan scanned his surroundings and soon spotted another person by a stone pillar near the pier—a short-haired woman in a silver knight's uniform. The shoulder armor bore simple thorn patterns, and a longsword hung at her waist, its pommel set with a pale blue gem. She stood tall, arms crossed, her sharp eyes surveying the passersby, clearly having waited for some time.

Evan approached and gave a slight nod: "Hello, I'm Evan. I've taken the task to escort Miss Gray to the Eleventh Island."

The woman turned her head at his voice, her face, with its clean, sharp lines, her gaze clear and steady.

She looked Evan over, sensing the Sequence 8 spiritual fluctuation on him, and nodded in reply: "Laura, Intermediate Knight. Also on this escort."

Evan understood—Intermediate Knight corresponded to Sequence 8 strength, on par with his "Puppeteer." He could feel the steady aura emanating from Laura, the kind of vibe you get from someone who's trained hard and seen real fights. "Two Sequence 8s on one escort—seems the employer takes this trip very seriously," Evan remarked softly.

Laura gave a faint smile: "After all, she's a pampered rich man's daughter heading to a relatively remote plantation island. Caution is only natural. According to the letter, Miss Gray and her servants should be arriving soon." As she spoke, her gaze returned to the pier's entrance, her expression remaining alert.