Chapter 622 - Chapter 622, Let’s Stop Competing, Shall We?

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Chapter 622, Let's Stop Competing, Shall We?

Golden Sail Tavern.

The bard Saban stood on the wooden platform, vividly telling the latest serialized story.

Below, the tavern was packed with patrons. Even the busy bartender stood aside, ignoring his duties to listen.

Saban continued, "So, I handed my pocket watch to Wu Heng, teasing a bit in my tone: Here, don't you always say that any item leaves traces, and from them, you can deduce the user's traits? This is a new watch I got. See if you can guess the original owner's personality and habits."

"Let me explain to everyone—a pocket watch is a timekeeping tool that allows for more precise time measurement. Here's an illustration."

As he spoke, someone drew a rough shape on a wooden board based on the newspaper image.

Everyone nodded.

The story continued.

"Wu Heng took it, looked at the dial, then opened the case, examined the internal parts, and used a magnifying glass to study it."

"..."

"Watching him frown and labor over it, I felt a sense of smug satisfaction, sure he couldn't figure it out."

"'Although the traces are few, I still noticed some things,' Wu Heng squinted and leaned back in his chair. 'This watch belonged to your brother, and it was your father's originally... I deduce it's an heirloom from the previous generation. Valuable items are often passed to the eldest son, so it must have belonged to your brother.'"

"I was surprised but nodded, 'Yes.'"

"'Your brother was unruly... fond of drinking, living in poverty, and eventually drank himself to death.'"

"I jumped up and shouted: Wu Heng, that's unfair! You must have investigated my brother and now you're mocking me with this trick!"

"Wu Heng calmly replied, 'I deduced it from observation. I haven't investigated you. That would be impolite.'"

"I couldn't help but ask, 'Then tell me, how did you deduce it?'"

"'Look, the watch has many scratches—he must have kept it with coins or keys. A pricey watch treated so carelessly? That screams reckless.'"

"'There's also a faint pawnshop record number. Shows he was often broke,' Wu Heng analyzed."

"I nodded without realizing it."

"Wu Heng continued, 'Now check the inner cover near the winding hole—thousands of marks. For the record, no drunkard's watch lacks these kinds of marks.'"

"'Sorry, you're absolutely right.' I was amazed by his deduction and sincerely apologized."

...…

"Why provoke him?" someone slammed the table. "You knew the Island Lord could figure it out, yet you still handed it over."

"Can't blame him. If it were me, I'd want to test him too."

"Kinda scary, though. Imagine someone like that around you—he could tell who you sleep with just by looking."

"Feels like he's better suited as a prophet."

"No way. Prophets lack combat ability. No matter how smart you are, without strength you're done for. Necromancer suits him better."

"Quiet! Everyone shut it! Keep listening." One man stood up to maintain order.

...…

Saban continued.

The landlady delivered a business card—from a lady named 'Mary Morstan.'

Wu Heng and Watson received the lady.

Mary explained her predicament. Every year on the same day, she received an anonymously sent rare pearl. It had continued for six years.

Her father had mysteriously disappeared ten years ago.

Today, the pearl sender requested to meet with Mary.

Unsure what to do, she came to Wu Heng for help.

"Mr. Wu Heng, what do you think I should do?" Mary asked, troubled.

"Go. We must go!" Wu Heng replied seriously.

"'Alright, I'll return at six in the evening.' Miss Mary smiled politely and left."

"As soon as the guest left, Wu Heng, who had looked groggy in the morning, transformed into a lively lion, cheerfully whistling as he walked out."

...…

At this point,

Saban's voice paused.

A bad feeling rose among the crowd.

"The rest will be in the next issue..."

The tavern exploded.

"Damn it! Not this kind of ending again!"

"Cutting the story midway is torture."

"Last time it was a murder case. Now it's pearl deliveries? Is that even worth a whole story?"

"Who the hell is ghostwriting this? I'll break his hands."

"Maybe it's just the beginning. Someone might die later."

...…

Association, Steward's Office.

Sheila Grey entered, wiped sweat from her brow, and lowered the air conditioning by two degrees.

With the island's exhibition underway, many merchant groups and nobles had gathered.

The island was lively, with inns and taverns packed.

But law enforcement had become busier. Even Sheila Grey, the steward, now had to patrol.

The workload had doubled.

"I saw the new newspaper is out!" Sheila Grey removed her armor and stored it in her spatial ring.

Shiyali waved a paper, "I bought it from city hall. Couldn't get one from the street vendors."

Sheila Grey poured herself a glass of water, "Next time, let's ask Wu Heng to have some delivered to the Association. Say we want to be a distribution site too. Would make it easier."

"Great idea," Shiyali's eyes lit up.

Sheila Grey sat down, took the paper, "Is it a new story?"

"It is, though a bit different from the last one," Shiyali replied.

"Different how? The story itself?" Sheila Grey first skimmed the intelligence section.

The intelligence network on Gold-Silver Island was forming.

Merchant caravans from all over were sending information here.

They selected only confirmed, harmless intel to publish.

Even Sheila Grey, as steward, had to get some updates from the paper.

Shiyali made tea and placed it in front of Sheila Grey, "Last time Wu Heng said it was some royal scandal story. Doesn't look like that now."

"It's just the beginning. Give it time," Sheila Grey replied, then added, "Maybe he said that to stop you from betting again."

Shiyali raised a brow, "I'm not gambling again. Stop saying it like I'm an addict."

Sheila Grey fell silent and started reading.

After finishing,

She put the paper down, "Same writing style as before. Same frustrating cliffhanger."

"Did you see Mary in the story? Think another one will show up?" Shiyali asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sheila Grey blinked, "What do you mean?"

"Kavina, Beni, those little maids—they all ended up here."

"Sister, I'm honestly getting worried for you," Shiyali said seriously.

Something stirred in Sheila Grey's heart.

But seeing Shiyali's teasing smile, she frowned, "We're at work. Use titles."

"Steward Sheila Grey, if you don't make a move, his harem will only grow."

"I think you like him too," Sheila retorted.

"We're sisters. Let's stop competing, shall we?"