Klein just watched like that, his body motionless, as if he no longer belonged to him.

He only felt that his blood was getting colder a little bit, and a name burst out in his mind:

Ince Zangwill!

����

The gas lamps on the pier have been turned on one by one, and the different windows of the passenger ships are dotted to meet them.

In Dwayne Dant�s' first-class cabin, it was dark and silent.

Klein had already sat down with no expression on his face, and various thoughts flashed through his mind uncontrollably: "This is the first time that Ince Zangwill has been found after the Great Smog incident in Backlund...

"The demigod from before should be chasing after Ince Zangwill...

"His trick is deeper than I thought. He found someone to pretend to be him and gave him items, not to divert tracking, but to create a blind spot in thinking, so that people subconsciously rule out this ship as a wrong option...

"He's been here since the beginning...

"The coincidental celestial change should have been created by Ince Zangwill with '0-08'...

"Why is he being chased by an Intis 'hunter' demigod... What is he planning..."

While his thoughts were churning, Klein suddenly took out the adventurer harmonica, brought it to his mouth and blew.

Without a sound, Reinette Tinekerr, a messenger lady with four blond hair and red eyes, appeared in front of him.

Klein opened his mouth, closed it again, took out a pen and paper, and quickly wrote: "Mr. Dwayne Dant�s discovered the whereabouts of Ince Zangwill on Cheng Island in the Mad Sea."

Folding the letter, Klein handed it along with a gold coin to Miss Messenger: "Send it to the letter box at No. 7 Pinster Street, North Backlund."

Reinette Tinekerr's four heads held in her hands turned at the same time, and her eight eyes all looked at Klein.

She said nothing, but bit the letter paper and the gold coin.

Backlund, North District.

On a night when the red moon was covered by stratus clouds, it was pitch black everywhere, only the gas street lamps on both sides of the street emitted a little light, illuminating the road ahead and the doorways of nearby houses.

The letter box at No. 7 Pinster Street is quietly hidden in the junction of light and darkness, bathed in the cool wind blowing from the side, and seems to have fallen asleep.

At this moment, newspapers, bills and letters from unknown persons suddenly poured out of its delivery port.

These things seem to be held by invisible hands, floating in the air, flying towards the door, and getting in through the gap.

In the house, in the foyer, the newspapers unfolded by themselves, flipped quickly until the last page, and then they fell randomly on the chair, stacked with the previous ones.

The bills and letters continued to fly in and entered the living room. The former stopped quickly, shook a few times, and then floated to the surface of the coffee table, neatly laid out. The latter took off the envelopes, and quickly opened them without envelopes. He revealed himself and showed his posture in mid-air.

After a while, some of these letters flew to the shelf in the study on the first floor, and some of them rushed to the scissors, helping the other party to tear themselves apart, and then poured into the bathroom in rows and threw them into the toilet.

Crash!

The toilet's mechanical button caved in on itself, flushing shreds of paper down the drain.

7 Pinster Street has since returned to normal, as quiet as any other unoccupied house.

Southern Continent, East Balam, Gurain City. JrNovels.com