Mystery: The Silver Key

Chapter 19 The Poor Gang

At the table covered with a tablecloth, Sirion took out the dagger he carried with him and cut his palm, then smeared the blood on the tablecloth with the eerie oil painting.

The blood of the extraordinary, imbued with spirituality, is an excellent material and a very good pigment; he will use his own blood to modify this painting.

He had already grasped the relevant knowledge while looking at the image on the tablecloth. It wasn't difficult, at least not for him; it was like an innate instinct.

However, Cyril felt that this was not instinct, but rather a reflection of the incomplete authority belonging to the "higher-dimensional observer" on him.

Since becoming an Extraordinary, he could vaguely sense that the empty space was slowly filling itself up. That's why he was able to use the "Apprentice" skill to escape the world in the painting. He already had a trace of dimension and the power of fantasy.

As blood was lost, Cyril felt a growing chill and dizziness due to insufficient blood supply.

"Damn it, why did you make the painting so big? Don't you know that concentrated is the essence? You've almost drained me dry."

Sirien cursed as he withdrew his hand, took out a test tube containing a pale green potion from his pocket, applied part of the potion to the wound on his palm, and poured the other part directly into his mouth.

This is a healing potion from the fat pharmacist at the "Eye of Wisdom" gathering. Although his speaking skills need improvement, his potion-making skills are indeed quite good.

As the medicine was administered, the paleness on Sirion's face gradually faded, and she gained a rosy glow.

After tending to his injuries, he looked at the tablecloth he had modified.

The bright red bloodstains on the tablecloth formed twisted lines, mysterious symbols, and markings, binding the distorted faces on the original picture like chains, sealing the "painting".

The remaining task is to find a way to extract the power of the "higher-dimensional observer" from the painting, and further complete oneself.

But he didn't know what to do. He couldn't extract power from the painting, or dispel or purify the power in the painting that didn't belong to the "higher-dimensional observers".

After all, this was a trap and cage prepared for him by the "higher-dimensional observer," not an airdrop sent to him by his buddy, so he certainly wouldn't be given a chance to make use of it.

"It seems the only option is to ask Adam for help."

As the painting on the tablecloth was sealed, Owen, who had been standing blankly by the dining table, suddenly snapped out of his daze and collapsed weakly to the ground.

Although the world depicted on this tablecloth presents no obvious danger, the malice and curses within are unbearable for ordinary people.

"I...be careful...escape..."

Irving lay on the ground, his eyes still filled with lingering terror, uttering a few words intermittently.

After hesitating for a moment, Cyril half-squatted down, took out a healing potion and poured it into Owen's mouth, then helped him sit down against the wall.

Although he felt the treatment wouldn't be very effective, since it was meant to treat physical injuries, it at least offered some psychological comfort.

Hmm...maybe it can also prevent sudden death from a rapid heartbeat or being startled.

Composing himself, he patted Owen on the shoulder and said, "I've dealt with the danger. You should rest for a while. The healing potion will take some time to take effect. I'll go upstairs and check."

"Wait... for you to take it..."

Irving weakly raised his hand, gesturing for him to take his gun.

Cyril did not refuse; he did indeed need a suitable weapon.

He rolled up the tablecloth and placed it next to Owen, then walked around the first floor to make sure there were no hidden dangers before going up the stairs to the second floor.

The empty corridor and tightly closed doors, devoid of the groans emanating from the surrounding rooms and the pungent smell of essential oils in the air, were otherwise exactly the same as the second floor he had seen in the painting.

"Coincidence? No, there are no coincidences in the extraordinary world."

"Was the painting on the tablecloth there only after it was placed inside the barrier, or can the content of the painting change with the environment?"

He muttered a few words to himself, then gathered his thoughts and placed his palm on the wall beside him.

The next second, a blurry, pale blue door suddenly appeared on the wall, and his figure silently passed through the wall and entered the next room.

As soon as he entered the room, a pungent stench of sweat mixed with the smell of fermenting food wafted over him, making him squint.

Sirien suppressed the nausea churning in his stomach, quickly scanned the room, then pressed against the wall behind him, "opened the door," and left the smelly room.

"Cough cough~"

He coughed as he walked away from the room; it smelled terrible.

In the empty corridor, Sirion hesitated as he looked at the remaining rooms. If they were all the same smelly rooms as before, he would really throw up if he went in a few more times.

After hesitating for a few seconds, he went to a door, reached out and grasped the doorknob, gently turned his wrist, and opened the door.

This time, he didn't choose to go through the wall, but instead went through the main entrance, intending to stand at the door and observe.

The room had a row of large communal beds, with personal belongings scattered on the floor, as well as clothes, shoes, and socks piled up beside the beds.

He then opened the remaining doors one by one. They were all dormitory rooms with large communal sleeping quarters. Some were messy and some were tidy, but they all showed obvious signs of life, indicating that many people lived there. However, he did not see a single person from beginning to end.

"They can't all be working the night shift, can they? Do the gangsters in Backlund even have legitimate jobs?"

He muttered something under his breath and went up the stairs to the third floor.

The clean walls and wooden floors, the ever-burning gas lamps, and the faint scent of fragrance led Sirien to guess that this floor belonged to a high-ranking member of the Blood Axe Gang, and that the person in question was a woman.

"The difference in living conditions is too great. They exploit them so ruthlessly, aren't they afraid their underlings will rebel?"

As he spoke, he fell silent. This was a world with extraordinary powers. If the leader of the Blood Axe Gang was an extraordinary being, he or she would be fully capable of exploiting their subordinates without fear of them rebelling.

"Inertia is harmful. If you want to organize a gang in the extraordinary world for a long time, you can't rely on ordinary people alone."

He sighed softly, took a talisman from his pocket and held it in his hand, while simultaneously pulling the safety off his pistol.

Since the Blood Axe Gang likely has extraordinary individuals, he needs to be careful, since "apprentices" don't have much combat power.

Click~

In the quiet corridor, the wooden floor beneath Sirion's feet suddenly snapped, making a crisp sound.

He stood there expressionless, inwardly cursing:

What kind of shoddy flooring is this? For a gang leader to be so powerful, couldn't they have used better materials during the renovation?

He stood there warily for a while, and there was no sound from the surrounding rooms. It seemed that, like the rooms below, there was no one on this floor.

This situation did not make him relax; on the contrary, it made him even more vigilant. This was definitely not a normal situation.

Click...click...

Cyril walked cautiously forward, each step breaking the wooden floorboards beneath his feet with a clattering sound.

He reached out and touched the wall next to him. From where he touched it, cracks spread out like a spider web, and then the plaster began to crumble and peel off the wall.

Clearly, this was no longer a problem of poor flooring quality; rather, the floors had been contaminated by some force, and the entire third-floor room was rotten.

Sirion quickly stopped and examined himself. Only after confirming that there was nothing wrong with him did he breathe a sigh of relief.

"From now on, we can't just go anywhere because of our 'apprentice' abilities. Sometimes danger comes silently, and by the time we realize it, it may be too late."

"Fortunately, the potion ingredients that Owen needs have been secured. It's really inconvenient to be out in the world without a 'fortune teller'."

He muttered something under his breath, then went to a door, gave it a gentle push, and the entire door panel detached from the frame and fell backward.

With a snap, the door shattered into pieces, and the floor beneath it also cracked open with spiderweb-like fissures, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

His gaze swept quickly across the room before he turned and left without pausing.

He had just heard a creaking sound under his feet; the floorboards seemed to be unable to bear the weight any longer, and if he continued to move around, the entire floor would probably collapse.

Furthermore, there's no need to explore any further. The entire third floor is already decayed, and it's impossible to find anything of value there. If we accidentally trigger the danger that caused the anomaly here, it would be a greater loss than gain.