Chapter 171: A Scholarly Bishop

Chapter 171: A Scholarly Bishop

Shalf’s residence was not like that of most bachelors—messy and dirty. Everything was arranged neatly. There was no dust on the windowsill either. After all, as an Artisan, he was not lacking in money. It was only because much of what he did had to remain confidential, making it inconvenient to hire a large number of fixed servants, that he had no choice but to hire people by the hour to help.

With a sweep of his gaze, Alger discovered that this place was not significantly different from the last time he had visited. The furnishings were extremely simple, with no valuable decorations, oil paintings, or sculptures. It looked like an ordinary commoner’s home.

Of course, Alger knew very well that Shalf was more than wealthy enough to be considered rich. He simply did not care about so-called dignity. He could spend several hundred pounds on a limited-edition famous wine. He could give away a house to keep a mistress. But he would not waste even one pence on expensive carpets, bone-china tea sets, gilded cups and plates, or oil paintings by famous artists.

“A glass of Sonia Blood Wine.” Alger’s expression did not change, but his words and body language both displayed that he had only come in to mooch some wine.

Shalf shrugged and said, “You should count yourself lucky that I do not have a habit of keeping Lirangzi.”

He walked toward the small bar counter in the living room, took out an exquisitely bottled Sonia Blood Wine, and flipped over two glasses.

Alger, who had found a sofa and sat down, took this chance to raise a hand and pinch the back of his neck, as though easing discomfort in his cervical spine.

Using this gesture as cover, he naturally glanced left and right, swiftly inspecting the parts of the room he had been unable to see earlier.

Because Shalf was too lazy to decorate and had placed almost no ornaments around, Alger completed his attempt very quickly. His gaze paused for one second on the glass window of a distant cabinet.

Through the glass, he saw some dried withered grass and flowers.

Among them were red-edged flowers, blood-moon grass, and monkey-face tree leaves. Their common trait was that they were all common on the Southern Continent, yet almost absent on the Northern Continent.

Alger withdrew his gaze and calmly watched as Shalf brought over the wine bottle and glasses.

Reaching out to accept one, he chatted casually with the other man about various matters at sea, until that small half bottle of Sonia Blood Wine had been drained dry.

Seeing this, Alger smiled and took his leave.

Five minutes after he left, Shalf, who had been quietly sitting and experiencing the feeling of tipsiness, suddenly stood. He walked to the stairway and opened the wooden door leading to the basement.

“Did he suspect anything?”

“No.”

“In any case, this place is no longer suitable for you to live in. Move to our place as soon as possible.”

“I still have a few commissions unfinished.”

“There is no need to finish them. You will no longer contact them anyway. You have already obtained new life.”

“Alright.”

…

Two houses away, Alger sat on a bench in someone’s garden, pinching his earlobe with his right hand as he listened to the words brought by the wind.

…

West Balam, outside an ordinary-looking house in Berens Harbor.

“Is this really because you are on bad terms with the Church of Knowledge, so you egged me on to come ask for Understanding Language charms?” Danitz wiped sweat from his forehead and looked at Anderson opposite him with great unease.

Anderson smiled in a half-self-mocking, half-indifferent manner.

“It cannot be described as bad…”

“So it is hostility?” Danitz interrupted without thinking.

Anderson glanced at him and said, “The negative effect of your glove may not be as easy to endure as you believe.”

He paused, then added with a chuckle, “The more accurate description is that whether it is me or the people of the Church of Knowledge, neither side is…