Chapter 53 There are many professional counterparts in this field
"Kill him!"
"Break his legs!"
"Hit him!"
"Damn thief!"
Backlund's East District has always been surrounded by an unsettling atmosphere. Fights, robberies, and even killings on the street are not always that new.
Snow was dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, which should have been a very ordinary working-class outfit, but with his handsome face, he looked as eye-catching as a male model stepping out of the cover of a fashion magazine.
When this kind of person appears in the East District, he usually disappears within half an hour. Perhaps a month or two later, he can be found in the basement of a certain nobleman, or in a special room in the old Happy Street.
But at this time, none of those guys who were so poor that even their own mothers wanted to sell them, had no idea of taking action. This was not because the peaked cap on his head hid his appearance, nor was it because all the gangs in the East District had gone bankrupt.
It's because they didn't notice anything unusual about Snow at all.
Although I still don’t know the true name of this ability [Everyone thinks they can see through it], it possesses an ability similar to psychological invisibility. Although it cannot completely eliminate its sense of existence, it can make itself visible to everyone who sees it.
People implant the idea that "this is just a passerby".
In this way, let alone having a handsome face, even if he is dressed like a substitute, no one will find it strange at all.
It is like a ghost, wandering the streets of Backlund's East District, looking for a suitable target.
Soon, he saw a young man, a young man who looked like a wild dog. His right hand was hanging weakly. Judging from the bruised forearm, he must have been injured for some time. His frame was not small, and he also had some bruises on his body.
There are traces of muscle lines, but the skin has no luster, and the cheeks are also a little dry. He is probably not the type who has not been able to eat since he was a child, but the type who has just started to starve recently. There are several obvious scars on his body, but it looks like
It's a bit old and probably not from the same period as the arm.
"That's him." Snow took a few steps forward, until he closed the distance to about five meters, and then suddenly said: "Are you hungry?"
The young man ignored him, kicked the garbage pile angrily, and then continued walking towards the next alley. Obviously, he didn't find anything edible.
But this is normal. After all, this is the East District. Even if you are a wealthy family that has leftovers scattered around, those leftovers have long been taken away by experienced hands. Newcomers like this,
I'm afraid I don't even know where such "rich households" exist, so how can they possibly find food?
"What if I said, I would like to treat you to a meal where you are full?"
Snow did not continue to close the distance, but said in a very normal tone. The man turned his head, looked at Snow with a vigilant look like a wild dog, frowned and said:
"What do you want?"
"I'm just curious about your origins." Snow spread his hands and pointed to a very ordinary coffee shop on the corner of the street.
Even though it’s called a restaurant, few people come in just to drink coffee. As for why it’s not called a restaurant?
Is it probably the only remaining reserve of the Loen people?
"Gudong..." The young man looked at the coffee shop and understood what Snow meant. Although he was very suspicious of this man's purpose, considering that he had not eaten for three days, he could only do something to his weak body after all.
Make a compromise.
He swallowed lightly, made a winning expression, and followed Snow obediently all the way to the coffee shop.
I ordered a large portion of lamb stewed with young peas, a local specialty, two loaves of bread, and some seasonal vegetables. The whole table was filled with it, but it only cost one sole.
This made Feng Xue feel a little guilty about her three pounds a day food expense.
Looking at the food on the table, the man's eyes were a little straight. In the past, he would never have behaved so badly, but now...
The remaining reason made him move his eyes away, focus on Snow again, and then asked:
"What exactly do you want to do?"
"If I can give you enough to eat every day, would you mind praying to an existence other than the Seven Righteous Gods?"
There was a trace of extraordinary power in Snow's tone, which was derived from the listener's ability to whisper. This skill is a bit like the hypnosis of the audience, but it is less powerful and more subtle. It can only make the other party more receptive in the initial stage.
Your words, but once used on a target for a long time, you can implant your own way of thinking into the other person's mind. Even if it is a psychiatrist on the audience's path, it will take a lot of time to completely eradicate it.
Language is polluted, and this is the Hanged Man's path to the fall of the leader.
"Evil God..." This thought came to the young man's mind, but he wisely did not say it out loud. The East District of Backlund has always been the hardest hit area for evil gods to preach, because these people at the bottom care more about their own descent than sliding into the abyss.
Where to have a meal.
The young man used to look down on those idiots who believed in evil gods just for a few mouthfuls of food, because he knew a little about the extraordinary people, but now, having understood the feeling of hunger, he finally understood the thoughts of those people.
In fact, compared to people who have been full and hungry for a long time, it will be more unbearable for people who have always been full to suddenly go hungry for a few days.
He glanced at the food on the table, then at the man in front of him, and finally picked up the bread, but just when he was about to stuff it into his mouth, Snow spoke again:
"Eat slowly, I don't want to see you pushing yourself to death here."
The young man's movements stopped suddenly, and then started moving again. His left hand flew up and down, eating various dishes awkwardly. However, Snow's previous warning probably had an effect, and he did not eat very fast.
It wasn't until half an hour later that the food on the table completely disappeared, and he leaned back on the somewhat hard chair behind him, gently caressed his somewhat bulging abdomen, and said:
“How do I pray?”
"Don't worry, I want to hear your story. Well, you don't come from a poor background, right?" Snow pointed to his broken right hand. The young man nodded, with some obvious resentment between his brows.
"My father is Penggree Manswell. You may have heard of this name...well, it doesn't look like you have." The young man looked at Snow's expression, shook his head mockingly, and then said -
"In short, it's just a small gang. It controls some thieves and beggars, and also recruits two extraordinary people... It's the kind of guy who can fight very well. But just last month, those two guys suddenly
Disappeared, as you know, the enemy in our line of work
Not a few. Although my father tried his best to hide it and tried to recruit a few more extraordinary people to stand up, he leaked the news. Just three days ago, the guys from the Gemanz Party killed my father and took away our chassis.
, you can probably guess what happens next even if I don’t tell you.”
"I knew you were the right professional!" Snow showed a somewhat arrogant smile on his face, narrowed his eyes and said:
"Then are you interested in becoming an extraordinary person?"
