Chapter 332 Angel’s Dream·Do you recognize him?
“…Why is he there too…”
“…Hey, I’m here to give you the key…”
< br>Conrad Curze led Sanguinius through the market. Awed by the terrifying aura of the Lord of Night, no one dared to get even a little closer. Everyone lowered their heads and focused on cleaning up the water purifiers and tiles under their hands. Objects such as cans, half-knitted sunhats, and children who would only make trouble if they didn't help, made way for Conrad Coates.
Wearing a heavy protective suit, Sanguinius explained to Conrad: "I know the prices of goods in Baal, and I also know the business system here, but it is true that I haven't brought any money for a long time... I When they go to the market, they want to dedicate everything on the stall to me! I can’t even fit it in my room.”
"You don't have to explain it to me, son of Baal," Conrad Curze's voice was hoarse than Sanguinius remembered, and even colder than Hanchuan's. "I don't know how to pay taxes."
"Huh?" Angel was stunned, not expecting that his brother was actually still struggling with tax issues.
“Besides, even if I pay the tax, the money should flow to your treasury behind the closed stone gate, not to the private bag around your waist. Don’t think about using my coins as your gold leaves. "
"No, Conrad," the angel reached out and patted Conrad Coates on the shoulder, "Are you seriously playing the role of a fur trader?"
Conrad? ·Koz slowed down, with deep doubts on his face, "What are you talking about, Son of Baal? Do you know me?"
Sanguinius' reaction was swift. Whether Curze was truly lost in the theatrics or if he truly didn't remember him, Sanguinius responded appropriately.
He shook his head inside the helmet, pinched the sides of Curze's bright red cloak with his fingers, and felt the touch of the material. Before Curze pulled away the hem of the clothes unhappily, he said briskly: "It can be like this Tell me. You see, the source of your furs is not legitimate. If I tell the Pure Blood Conclave about their raw materials, you will have to pack up your belongings and leave us tomorrow."
Conrad. Cozz lowered his eyebrows and snorted slightly in displeasure, "Then return my two coins to me first, great angel."
"Okay, although I don't know about you and that Morr What did Stuart do?" The angel regretfully found that he could not touch his chin through the helmet, "but I am still the leader of Baal, and - no, I have no wings, why am I still an angel?"
He? Sighing deeply, the smile disappeared under the helmet.
"I don't know when you met Morse and I, Sanguinius." Conrad Coze spat out these words softly, seemingly unaware of Sanguinius's mood change, or maybe he didn't care. "We cannot pay the taxes here in cash right now. Morse proposes that you do a property justice for our... leather goods."
"You really don't know me, Conrad ?" There was an underlying fluctuation in Sanguinius's voice, and his playful attitude slowly weakened.
"Who doesn't know you?" Conrad sneered.
“Who am I?”
“No one knows who you are, Guardian of Baal.”
Sanguinius lifted the muscles of his cheeks upwards, and in the process, his lower lip felt a slight pain from the pressure of his upper teeth.
He stood under the hot sunshine, looked around, and felt the stories carried by this land. Countless sand dunes make up the desert, and each sand mountain is the most authentic witness of time. Sweat fell from Sanguinius's forehead, leaving wet traces along his cheeks, and eventually dissipated within the rough protective suit.
The hot air was occasionally blown by a breeze, bringing a brief coolness to Conrad Coates. The wind passed through the market tent, causing the hanging kettle to knock on the iron-clad wooden shell, making a clear "ka-ka" sound.
Countless tiny grains of sand make a subtle and hoarse sound, like a whisper in the desert, continuing slightly. They hover briefly in the air, and then quietly fall back to the ground, intertwined with their footsteps, becoming the most authentic accompaniment to the world.
What kind of dream can be so vast and real? How much data does this require, and what energy is required for such a simulation?
Sanguinius was suddenly shaken, as if he were back in that morning's room, wandering among the giant furniture, seeing everything as a slice of reality and worrying about it.
He shuddered slightly. Although he was inevitably happy, he did not dare to imagine it deeply.
"Okay," he said softly, "take me to evaluate whether your leather products are eligible for tax deductions, Konrad Coates." "It seems you really know me," Coze said with unclear meaning, "Don't continue to come close to me, angel. No matter how cool it is near me, don't come close to me without authorization."
"Aquila above, I'll give it to you. Touch the wings..." Sanguinius shook his head sadly.
Konrad Coates' vehicle parked in the middle of the market is very iconic, not to mention its dark blue background color like midnight and the blue and white zigzag lightning pattern used for decoration. Let's just say that it hangs on the bracket outside. A series of light pink leather materials, no one will do this.
There is no sign hanging on this vehicle that is used as a store. Standing next to the vehicle is a mortal who is still brave enough to be wrapped in black robes in the scorching heat. His fingers are fiddling with the sleeves of his clothes. A piece of black cloth spread out, seemingly calculating something.
Before Curze approached, the man turned his head quickly like a prophet, his eyes swept around Sanguinius, then turned back his black-haired head indifferently, and continued to look straight ahead. , looking into the unknown distance.
"That's..." The angel lengthened his voice to express his question.
“Morse, the fortune teller.” Coates showed a clear smile at Morse’s title, “Those who spy into the future are either crazy or stupid, or both.”
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"Does he see my future?" Sanguinius asked.
Did Morse also see the fragments from which he died alone, taking his personal death as his final contribution to the war?
In fact, Sanguinius himself did not specifically spy on the situation at that moment, and Konrad Curze's overly fancy language has no reference value at all.
"Leave him alone," Curze knocked on the iron plate of the vehicle, "He said that all three of us would die badly. He is full of nonsense."
"Including himself?" Angel asked eyebrow.
"Uh, actually it's me." Magnus opened the curtain of the vehicle, stuck his head out, and looked at Sanguinius curiously. "He said I would theoretically be unlucky too. Oh, by the way, you don't know me, right? I'm Magnus, and I'm in the same group as Morse and Curze... who came to Baal to sell furs together. ”
No, where did Magnus come from?
"Hello, Magnus." Before Sanguinius could get over the shock of suddenly seeing a pearl-red figure with copper-like hair appear in front of him, he subconsciously used In addition to his friendly smile, sincere greetings and random pleasantries, "Are you... a magician?"
"How can I be a magician?" Magnus shrank back, as if being troubled by the word I was shocked, "I don't look like me!"
"Then you are..."
Curze's cool tone playfully revealed the truth before Sanguinius could say "scholar."
"He's here to help us move our things," Curze said. "A porter."
Sanguinius heard the gears in his head jam.
"Why?"
Curze nodded in Magnus's direction: "This guy is bigger and stronger than all of us, isn't he?"
He smiled suspiciously and stared at Magnus, who was telling Sanguinius about his life.
“For someone so big,” he said sing-song, “it would be a shame not to be able to carry heavy things.”
(End of Chapter)