The market was located ten miles outside of Flondeck, adjacent to the Black Gold Road. Originally, it was just a small transfer station between the port and Flondeck.
However, astute wholesale merchants soon discovered that the nearby land, just ten miles outside the city gates, was so cheap it was practically given away compared to the prime real estate in the city center.
Renting a large warehouse in the city costs enough each month to build one's own warehouse at the transfer station.
Soon, in this small transfer station, warehouses mushroomed up like after a rain, with wealthy merchants building rows of simple bungalows, each with a rough stone wall outside. Even those with less money weren't willing to be outdone, and erected their own sheds, while hiring trusted employees to guard them day and night.
Merchants in Flondeck's luxuriously decorated stores only displayed samples and a small amount of inventory. For large transactions, they would negotiate the price and go directly to the warehouses for delivery, making the process both efficient and convenient.
Gradually, small vendors also gathered here, and the large number of staff left behind by the merchants and the workers unloading goods from the trucks kept coming. These people have simple requirements for their lives, and affordable and practical daily goods are highly welcomed by them.
Albert learned very quickly.
Whether it was cutting vegetables and preparing ingredients, or observing small pieces of meat rolling in hot oil and taking them out at the most delicious time, or even controlling the ratio of minced meat in meatballs, he had a good command of all these skills.
Moreover, Albert also had a little trick that made the cost of boxed meals even cheaper."
Mint leaves and bay leaves, used as seasoning, were not cheap. Ordinary citizens in Flondeck rarely ate meat, and their staple foods were bread and fish soup.
It wasn't that meat was unpalatable, but because there were no spices to remove the fishy smell. Even meat chunks cooked in plain water and dipped in salt couldn't cover up the pungent smell.
But orange peel was a cheap commodity. This wild green-skinned fruit had been artificially cultivated for several generations and still tasted sour, so no one liked to eat it. Only ships on long voyages would buy a few barrels to prevent the occurrence of seaborne nightmare-like sepsis.
Taking a trip to the port, for just a few copper coins, one could bring back a large basket of orange peels.
Drying and roasting orange peels over low heat, then cutting them into small pieces and mixing them with meat is just as effective as using traditional spices.
The boxed meal with meat dishes caused a sensation in the marketplace. Every lunchtime, Albert's small food truck was surrounded by people, and several regular customers came from far away every day to eat.
Gradually, the competing peers in the market could not keep up, and several stall owners were disheartened. Some were preparing to find another line of work, while others were considering using underhanded tactics.
Before they could take action, Albert took the initiative to visit them. He promised to sell only one hundred boxed meals per day in the future and would never monopolize the business.
At night, when they were at home, Jenny asked, "When our business was at its best, we could sell more than one hundred and forty boxed meals. Won't we lose a lot of money this way? If only our family sells in the market, we can earn more."
"No, just think about it. If you want to buy clothes, would you go to a street full of clothing stores, or would you choose a place where there is only one clothing store on the entire street?" Albert tossed a coin into the air and quickly caught it.
Jenny stared at him with big eyes, seeming to understand something.
"We don't have enough capital to take over all the food stalls in the marketplace. If only we are left, we won't be able to serve everyone. Initially, we can make a lot of money, but over time, when people find that they need to spend a lot of time queuing up for food every day, they will look for other places to eat, or regular restaurants will discover business opportunities and open branches." Albert continued to explain. "Profit comes from scale. I would rather compete with ten stalls in the busiest place than monopolize the only street with few customers."
"How did you get such a good brain?" Jenny held Albert's face and looked at him with her beautiful big eyes for a long time, then pushed him down on the bed with a big smile. Her plump body wriggled and teased him like a little snake. "Let's challenge four times today."
"Darling, we have to get up early tomorrow."
"Then let's do it three times."
Soon, all the stall owners who supplied lunch discovered that Albert's rules were really beneficial to everyone.
The most obvious benefit was that by buying ingredients together, they were able to enjoy wholesale discounts. Even expensive ingredients like pepper became affordable after discounts were applied.
Despite spending the same amount of money, the quality of the ingredients had increased significantly. Customers in the market were delighted with the improved taste and were willing to spend a little extra to satisfy their taste buds.
The stall owners found that they were earning more than before, and they recognized Albert's leadership position. Albert took the opportunity to persuade everyone to move their stalls together instead of being scattered throughout the marketplace.
Albert then conducted a survey to determine which foods were most popular, and he found that pork chops and meatballs were the most popular, followed by fish, regular seafood, and finally, food like vegetable soup. Then, he arranged for each stall owner to specialize in making a popular dish based on their particular skill, and ensured that no two stalls duplicated each other.
In this way, a simple open-air food court was formed, and Albert asked Detective Lime to obtain a liquor license for the square. More and more customers flowed in, and even some sailors from the port were happy to come celebrate here when they had good news. According to them, the food in the market was far superior to that in the port, and there were many more varieties to choose from.
Albert's plan was to save up enough money to buy some land and hire a few more chefs to open a real restaurant.
Master William originally wanted Albert to be his full-time assistant, but after careful consideration, Albert politely declined, realizing that the insane experiments would not be suitable for a family man.
"If my initial dream was to become a chief prosecutor before I turned forty," Albert thought, "my current goal is to have my own chain restaurant before I turn forty. Any path, as long as you persevere, the future will be bright."
He was very confident about this.
As evening approached, three carriages drove up to Flondeck and stopped by a secluded forest far from the main road.
Eric Andreas frowned at the eight henchmen he had brought with him and asked loudly, "Where's the scout? I can't believe I'm waiting for him."
"Be patient. The more detailed the information, the better. After all, there are holy warriors stationed in Flondeck, and we all know what happened to Old Maedjes. For assassins, a little carelessness could cost them their lives," The reply came from a burly man with a high-collared coat that only revealed his forehead and curly hair.
From the poisoned dagger at his waist and the thick fur on his shoes, it was clear he was also an assassin. Few assassins would be as tall as him, as shorter ones were easier to hide in the shadows.
This man was either a rookie who didn't know how to choose the right profession or a master in this field. Obviously, he belonged to the latter.
"You're right. If it were you by my side that day, I wouldn't have had to expose myself to such humiliation." Eric lowered his anger and praised the tall man. He was the ace assassin of Eric Andreas' underworld organization, and he had a more mysterious identity than just an assassin. Many times, even Eric, as the boss, didn't dare to easily offend him.
Soon, a horse rider arrived in the forest. He dismounted and before he could catch his breath, Eric grabbed him by the throat. "Do you know whose time you've wasted?" he shouted.
"N-no... boss... those two have split up today," the scout's face turned purple from Eric's grip. Eric released him. The scout knelt on the ground and coughed uncontrollably.
After finally regaining his composure, he saw Eric's impatient expression and quickly replied, "After the prosecutor was fired, he and his wife have been doing small business outside the city. Today, the prosecutor is still at the market, but that woman stayed at home. I had to run both sides, so it took some time."
Eric thought for a moment and decided, "Joe Callion, you take three people to the city. Remember, leave no one in that house, not even a mouse. The rest of us will go to the market."
Joe Callion, the tall assassin, concealed a smirk beneath his collar and said, "I'm enough on my own. " He untied the reins from the horse's back, agilely mounted it, and urged it into a gallop. With his muscular thighs clamping down tightly, it seemed as if the rider was dragging the horse forward.
"He's always so arrogant," Eric chuckled, although Jo is not as respectful and obedient as the others. However, this did not affect the gang leader's trust in the loyalty of his subordinate.
"Alright, guys." The gang leader clapped his hands. "Enjoy yourselves later, don't play him to death so quickly. I want him to have no good meat left when he takes his last breath."
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Albert's current residence was a two-story building that was at least thirty years old, located in a back alley in the old district. Like most houses in the old district, it was made of wood and had no basement or terrace. Perhaps it had a terrace twenty years ago, as remnants of wooden stakes and rusted iron nails could still be seen on the outer wall of the second-floor window. The entire house was decaying and crude, barely providing shelter from wind and rain.
Because of the obstruction of the houses on both sides, sunlight was rarely seen in the alley. People were scarce, and only a few scattered houses were rented out to laborers who usually returned home only when the sun had completely set. Sometimes they were too busy to return home for two or three days.
This seemed like a forgotten corner of the city, quiet and desolate.
Joe was quite satisfied with this. He didn't have to wait until late at night to make his move. The prey were only two women, one of whom was old and frail. Oh, and there's also a dog.
Although the targets of the murder did not conform to Joe's moral standards, a job was a job.
A green light flashed in Joe's gray eyes. The shadow of the entire alley seemed to be called by some kind of power, showing ripples like circles on the water surface. The ripples became more and more intense, and finally, a black wave rose up over a person's height, wrapping Joe's body. Gradually, the wave became calm again, and the assassin disappeared without a trace, as if dissolved by the shadow.
In this world, there existed a type of human with unique skills.
No one can say for sure where these people inherited the most mysterious bloodline from, which allows them to master some incredible skills without learning magic or comprehending divine grace. People reverently call them "Dragon Veins," using the most powerful monsters in legend to refer to them.
Unless they intentionally reveal themselves, even the diviners cannot tell who among the crowd is a Dragon Vein.
This bloodline is a gift from heaven, elusive as if a god threw a golden coin into the world. Who will be hit can only be attributed to luck and supernatural factors. Even if a Dragon Vein strictly trains their descendants, they cannot pass on their mysterious power to them.
On the other hand, a rural farmer may unknowingly show their bloodline when complaining about too many weeds in their field, causing a strange plague to appear in their thoughts and withering all the weeds that were stealing nutrients from their crops.
When Joe Callion was still a child, he was a thief who survived by pickpocketing. However, he was not very good at it and often got caught and beaten up. He couldn't steal his daily share, and when he returned to the hideout at night, he would be scolded and beaten by the leader of the thieves.
Every time he went out on the street, he would silently repeat to himself, "You can't see me, you can't see me," as he used his scarred hands to undo the pockets of passersby.
Then, on a cloudy afternoon, he spotted a fat man coming out of a shop, his wallet bulging. Joe cautiously approached him and carefully opened the button on the man's pocket. But just as he was about to put his fingers in, the fat man seemed to sense something and covered his pocket with his hand, looking around nervously.
The young criminal premonition that he was about to be beaten again, but he didn't have the strength to run away. After taking just a few steps, his legs started to give out and he could only squat in the corner, holding his head in his hands, hoping that a couple of kicks would be enough to get him through this disaster.
"If only you couldn't see me," Joe desperately thought, his teeth chattering with fear.
The fat man touched his head in confusion, and the shop assistant poked his head out from behind the counter. "Sir, are you okay? Do you need any help?" he asked.
"I thought I saw a thief, but there's no one here," the fat man replied.
"Oh, there's nobody here. Maybe just your imagination," the shop assistant said with a smile.
They really couldn't see Joe.
That day, Joe Callion found his best friend. As long as he was in the shadows, he was an invincible god.
In the underworld, an assassin who could completely disappear in the shadows was a nightmare that no one could escape from. Callion, the shadow walker, instilled fear in everyone.
Jenny was running a fever. She got caught in a light rain two days ago when she was closing up the stall, and her body, already exhausted, couldn't hold up any longer.
She took some medicine in the morning and had been feeling drowsy, in a half-asleep, half-awake state. Albert had intended to stay with her, but Jenny refused him. "I'll be fine after a good sleep with the medicine. If you don't go to the stall today, the future chain restaurant will lose two bricks."
There seemed to be the sound of a broken cup downstairs. Perhaps her grandmother didn't hold it steadily. Jenny wanted to get up and clean it, but she felt weak all over.
Black Jack barked a few times and then let out a miserable groan, "That stupid dog, got a shard stuck in his leg?" Jenny struggled to sit up, half leaning against the pillow, shaking her head to clear her mind and preparing to go downstairs to check it out.
As she sat on the edge of the bed and put on her shoes, Jenny's body suddenly stiffened, and her eyelids started twitching rapidly. A feeling of palpitations, like a heavy object pressing down on her, swept over her, leaving her gasping for air.
The bedroom door was tightly shut, and there were no strange noises coming from outside, but she felt like something extremely dangerous was standing outside.
This feeling seemed to have appeared a few times before, yes, three years ago in winter, when she was waiting for Albert in the square at night. The tavern had just closed, and she was followed all the way home.
But that feeling of terror was nothing compared to now.
Jenny cried, tears flowing uncontrollably. She didn't know why she was afraid, why she wanted to cry, but she couldn't stop herself. She hugged her blanket, her body trembling uncontrollably. She wanted to shout, call her grandmother's name, call Black Jack, but the fear of reality made her too scared to make a sound.
"What's outside the door? Where is Grandma?" Jenny thought, staring fixedly at the bedroom door, afraid to move her gaze away.
The door became blurry, transparent, as if disappearing into the air. Was it because of her tears? But who was that tall figure standing in front of the door?
"Albert, please don't come back now." Jenny was desperate. She seemed to understand that this feeling would only appear when her life was in danger, warning her to be careful of the call of death.
Joe Callion's keen senses had probed the situation in the bedroom.
He was surprised. According to the information, the prey was just an ordinary woman of prostitute origin. However, she seemed to have sensed what was about to happen, and even more surprising things happened afterwards.
Like ice melting under the scorching sun, Joe remained fused with the shadows. However, soon he found that he was being resisted by the shadow. Bit by bit, his left shoulder, arm, and leg detached from the shadow, no matter how he called out, he couldn't get a response from the shadow.
"Could it be?" Joe kicked the door open roughly. He had guessed right. The girl curled up on the bed, let out a miserable scream when she saw a stranger break in. Tear drops formed in the corner of her eyes and traced down her fear-twisted face, but they could not cover up her eyes that were suffused with a green glow and nearly indistinguishable pupils.
"A newly-born Dragon Vein!" Joe thought. And not only that, but also an excellent ability to sense and detect danger, the natural enemy of assassins.
Some seemingly insignificant people could stimulate the power hidden deep in their blood at the critical moment of life and death. But Joe had not expected that he would encounter this one-in-a-million chance today.
The assassin master hesitated.
Jenny, somehow finding the courage, threw a pillow at the killer, and crawled downstairs in panic. Joe instinctively reached out his hand. With just two fingers, he could easily crush the girl's trachea.
But when he was about to touch the girl, he stopped.
The first-floor living room was a mess. Grandmother lay on the ground in a pool of blood, Black Jack was nailed to the wall with a kitchen knife, not dead yet, and his tail was still twitching slightly.
Jenny threw herself onto her grandmother, shouting wildly.
The killer followed step by step, walking down the stairs, curiously observing the hysterical woman.
"Is it Miss Jenny? What happened? I'm coming in." Al Dunavan held a bouquet of bright roses, dressed in a dignified and flashy outfit. He hadn't given up, thinking that the hardships of the past few months should have made the girl lose her prideful, childish ideas.
The scream he heard outside made him feel like it was a great opportunity. Perhaps she was arguing with Albert and had been beaten up by that damn guy?
One was a wealthy savior who appeared like a prince to save Cinderella, while the other was a small vendor in the market who vented his anger by hitting those around him when things went wrong.
If one was not a fool, they knew how to choose.
"You took my position, so I'll take your woman. Besides, that chick is really pretty," Al said with a sinister smile, pushing open the slightly ajar door.
The body and the killer in the room left the hopeful proxy judge stunned. He quickly stepped in front of the girl to protect her and asked, "Who are you?"
Al was confident in his abilities, as swordsmanship was a course every noble family had to take. In his small circle, there was no one who could match him. Even though he didn't have a sword on him, the cane he carried could still come in handy.
"Perhaps Fraley offended the thugs of Flondeck and suffered the tragedy of being exterminated. Oh, I like this ending. And I'll take your woman too." Al thought that the story of a hero saving a beauty was old-fashioned and dangerous, but it was worth a try.
Al put on his most imposing posture, "I am Al Dunavan, the Chief Justice of the Thirteen Courts. Which gang are you from? The Rat Carter or Scar Jimmy?" he said disdainfully, throwing out the names of several gang leaders. "Even your boss has to be respectful to me when he sees me. Get out of here."
His words saved his life.
"Dunavan? The Flondeck family who's getting close to the Golden Sparrow Flower. If I kill him, it may bring disadvantage to our alliance." In an instant, Joe flipped the dagger over and knocked out Earl, who didn't react in time, with the handle.
The girl held her grandmother, sobbing hoarsely, her eyes empty and unfocused, fear causing her to be in a dazed state.
"Kill her?" Joe considered. "No, it's better to let her live. Soon, all the assassins in the underground world will have to relearn stealth, except for me."
Hypnosis and brainwashing weren't too difficult.
In the forest, the soil was filled with decaying leaves, greedily absorbing the scattered droplets of crimson liquid.
After hours of torture, Albert Fraley's pain receptors had become numb. His body was a bloody mess, convulsing uncontrollably, and the wounds that had stopped bleeding were soon slashed open again.
In several places, white bones could be seen, and even corpses in graves looked better than his current state.
Eric Andreas walked cheerfully around Albert, watching him crawl on the ground with bone-exposed fingers. "You better hurry up and run, buddy. If you're too slow, I'll catch you in no time," he said, occasionally kicking him hard and relishing the blood mist mixed with red flesh buds and damaged skin from the terrible wounds.
Albert could no longer crawl. His eyelids grew heavy, and the emissary of the lord of darkness was waiting for him, not far away.
"Come on, dear. Keep crawling. If you can crawl out of the woods, I'll let you go," Eric licked his lips, excitedly flushing with blood lust. He flipped Albert over, stomping on his chest a few times, causing a large amount of blood, mixed with foam, to gush from his mouth and nose.
It was a sign that his ribs had pierced his lung.
"I should comfort you a little. I bet that rundown house in Flondeck has been redecorated in red by now." Eric said.
These words sparked a reaction from Albert. He struggled to open his blood-red eyes and weakly cursed, "You damn bastard! Those were only old people and weak women! Even the lowest scoundrel wouldn't do such a filthy thing!"
"Please don't say that. I didn't leave you alone on the road. Oh, I must praise my own kindness for arranging for you and your family to reunite in hell." He faced the dying person's gaze filled with deep-seated hatred. He had seen this look many times before.
"Alright, let him rest in peace. Remember to throw the body into the sea." Eric walked towards the carriage. " Do it quickly, we still have a lot of things to take care of."
Albert felt very cold, a deep exhaustion and endless darkness rushed towards him, pressing down on him. He lay quietly, unable to get up again. Fragments of memory tumbled in his mind: joy, love, indignation, hatred; countless emotions struggling, screaming, and slowly returning to calm.
For some reason, he didn't feel any fear at all, only a sense of great peace in the world, a peace that made him feel lonely.
"Perhaps this is just a dream. When I wake up, I will hold Jenny's hand again and bask in the sunshine," he thought.
And then, he died.