Chapter 105 105

Chapter 105 105

"Nothing. We couldn't find any trace of that whale oil. It's as if they don't exist at all, or perhaps our search area is too small."
Mary Etta summarized the others' work for Clayton. As she spoke, her eyes glanced toward the wall. Behind the wall came the shouting of soldiers.

"We will wait ten minutes, then spread out again to search this area."
The Lieutenant was dissatisfied with this answer; he hoped to find the refined whale oil stolen by the Gray Hat Gang from the Wesont Textile Factory by tonight. Because if that refined whale oil wasn't in the gang's stronghold, and not in the mine, the situation became subtle.

Although he already knew Major Dolon wasn't dealing with the traces here under Athena's guidance—that spider hadn't noticed this place had been discovered—if the whale oil wasn't in this mine, there were only two possibilities. Either the explosives were already placed, aimed at the next arriving train, or the Gray Hat Gang wasn't completely wiped out, and they had split off a group to perform the explosive placement work. This group, performing independently, hadn't noticed their gang had been annihilated, but their action time was unknown.

He leaned toward the latter explanation. The former plan was too demanding on timing and too coincidental; he didn't believe in coincidences.
Thinking of this, the Lieutenant felt around his coat pocket and found a whistle. That was Grone’s finger; as long as he blew it, he could listen to the grass and trees’ recordings of surrounding sounds. But this was underground, where there was no sunlight and not a single speck of green. If that failed, he could only search along the tracks, which would be time-consuming.

"Mary, go find Julius; why hasn't he arrived yet?" Clayton urged. He needed the mage’s ability to find things.
Mary Etta left the tunnel. As her figure disappeared, Clayton felt a vague sense of unease. There were too many soldiers here, scattered in various positions, and they were all thugs. Mary’s attire and reputation were quite controversial. Although she had some skill, if she were cornered by several soldiers, it might be difficult for her to escape.

"Barbara, follow her too, but keep your distance. Unless you encounter trouble, don't let other soldiers discover you. I heard that vampires’ abilities allow you to come and go without a trace; you can do that, right?"
This sounded like a choice made out of distrust, but he was actually just hoping to keep a low profile.
Barbara pondered for a long time, until Clayton coughed, and she reluctantly agreed, which made the Lieutenant very uneasy.

"If you can't do it, just tell me 'I can't'."
The female vampire became determined, nodding hard, and then pursued the direction Mary left like a gust of wind. Her stance made Clayton even more uneasy, but he couldn't send Fluntin out, so he had to wait patiently.

It might not sound very friendly, but this man who was always reticent made Clayton very uncomfortable. Fluntin’s curse was an inability to sleep. He seemed to have passed the stage of collapse and entered a mental state that looked peaceful but was actually more disordered. It wasn't that he was a threat to Clayton, just that he looked frightening. Whether it was that vacant expression or the bloodshot eyeballs, it made people afraid to communicate with him, for fear that their voice, if a little loud, would knock up surging waves in that deep pool and stir up undercurrents.
Clayton bet that this person had already lost his emotions because that was how he felt when he suffered from long-term insomnia, often coming up with grotesque ideas.

Fortunately, others soon returned, so he didn't have to be alone with Fluntin. This time, Julius strolled over with his hands in his pockets, approaching them without any psychological burden.
"Did you hide that demon hunter badge?" Clayton asked him.
"Of course."

Clayton had no objection to this practice. In fact, that badge was originally used to test if there were Darkborn in the mine black market. Since Major Dolon had already cleared it once for them, the badge’s role here was negligible.

"I want you to find that batch of refined whale oil, just as you found the 'Tree' back then."
Julius stared at him blankly: "I knew we were looking for things, but why did you think I wouldn't take the initiative to bring this up?"
"I'd like to hear the details."
"I have never seen or touched that batch of whale oil. There is no possession connection between us, and they aren't unique items, but mass-produced products of the factory. With so many factors involved, to find that refined whale oil in such a situation, only a Ring Mage from Strass could possibly do it, or some Star-Gazer from Milenti, but even that is only a possibility."
"Sounds very difficult."
"It is extremely difficult."

Clayton had to take out the whistle Grone gave him. Julius’s face changed drastically when he saw his action.
"You should know how to use it."
"I know."
"That’s good." Julius breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn't put that thing in his mouth—that was his old man’s finger!

After everyone gathered, Clayton explained the map to Julius, and then everyone dispersed to continue exploring the depths of the mine, using stones to mark the tunnel walls along the way to prevent getting lost.
This last attempt ended in failure again.
The Lieutenant had to use the final method.

They took lanterns to the ground and looked for highlands in the forest. Everyone was separated, each monitoring a 400-yard-long section of the track. Among them, Darkborn with dark vision and humans holding lanterns were adjacent, so as not to alert the Gray Hat Gang’s explosive executioners due to the number of nearby lights.

No matter what, they had to ensure the safety of the railway tonight.
If the Gray Hat Gang wanted to blast the train, they could only walk further, or take action when the surveillance forces decreased at night. Even if they were discovered, these constables could serve as a warning, forcing the Gray Hat Gang’s bandits to spend more time hiding themselves or shifting the crime scene.
As long as they lasted through tonight, they would likely have a whole day to rest, and the security office would dispatch more constables to patrol along the railway because the Diocesan Council appointed by the Elder Council was pressuring the security office. If the remnants of the Gray Hat Gang returned to the mine, Dolon’s men would give them a surprise.

Looting war trophies couldn't be completed in one night. Those soldiers would at least guard the place for up to a week, so Clayton didn't have to worry about it here.
After arranging the constables' tasks, Clayton took the finger whistle alone into the depths of the dense forest, back near the mine exit.
Many oak trees were planted here, but they were not old. In terms of tree age, they were not yet adults. But even if these young oaks were still thin, their crowns were enough to block the moonlight in the sky, or allow birds to find a suitable branch to make a nest.

Clayton stood alone among the trees, feeling a long-lost tranquility.
He sighed heartily—for his encounters in the last few months—and then blew the whistle in those hazy shadows.
"Woo-woo—"
The whistle’s sound was unexpectedly ugly, which made the Lieutenant feel much more refreshed.
A gust of wind suddenly blew in the forest. Between the gaps in the branches, the soil, and the gaps in the fallen leaves, a mournful groan echoed, just like a legendary ghost—mind you, a legendary ghost, not a real ghost. Clayton had never heard Gellert make this sound.

The ground even produced a slight vibration. Clayton looked down and saw those tree roots crawling and drilling like a snake group under his feet, and above his head, the leaves were whispering in the wind, repeating the sounds they heard.
It was as dreamy as a fairy tale.
In the dream, Dolon’s soldiers were noisy and firing guns, and then there was the rumble of the train; he couldn't hear anything clearly.

Clayton walked a little further in the direction of the tracks, departing from the traces of the soldiers' march today, and the records of the oaks were slightly different.
It was a young man’s voice.
"Damn it, making us do this chore on such a cold day. I really don't understand why they don't stuff the whale oil in the mine tracks under the tracks, instead of making us dig so many pits? I feel like my fingers are about to freeze off."
Then came a thick male voice, which sounded older: "If the mine collapses due to an internal explosion, the boss and your father and the others are all finished, idiot! And it’s not the coldest time of winter yet, can you not be so delicate?"
The dialogue got quieter and quieter, which might be because the speakers were constantly moving, so the sound wasn't fully recorded.

Clayton took the whistle and walked a bit further, blowing it again.
"I hope the person wearing gloves can shut up because he doesn't know how cold it is with bare hands."
"Idiot, it’s not like I haven't experienced winter. When you were still asking your mom for cookies, I was already making a living here."
"Old man, who are you calling an idiot?!"
Clayton hurried to trot forward for ten minutes, skipping this meaningless dialogue.
"Seriously, this is boring. It’s so cold, and we’re still arguing here; it’s better to finish the work quickly and go back to drink."
"I agree."

The two people who were arguing reconciled, and Clayton prayed urgently that they would continue to discuss the whale oil problem.
"Hey, if we succeed this time, will we continue in the future?"
"Continue what?"
"I mean, with so much money, do we still need to hang around here? We can all move to the big city."
"You’re overthinking it. Stolen goods can't be sold for a high price. The selling price depends on those millers’ moods, and this money isn't split among everyone equally; the bulk is with the boss, others at most gamble a few times, or it’s enough to send their kids to Sunday school."
"At least give us more? We were the ones who dug the pits."
"Heh."

The conversation ended, and Clayton couldn't hear the plant's memory sound by continuing along this road. He walked outward around the last recording point, almost walking out a circle with a radius of one kilometer, but he didn't hear human voices again. Those two people stopped talking; they were just walking silently, so naturally, there was no sound.
This was why Clayton didn't want to use this method at first. He didn't know how long he had to go or in which direction to continue hearing their conversation, so he decisively gave up trying.

But there was good news. That batch of refined whale oil could be confirmed to have been hidden somewhere in advance and might not be in place yet. And those gang members weren't thinking about blowing up the train; they just wanted the train to overturn off the tracks and then take advantage of the chaos to commit a robbery.