Chapter 5

“Chapter 5: The Fool Who Thinks He’s Smart”

When Lynn regained consciousness, he found himself in complete darkness.

Judging by the rough texture against his skin, it seemed he had a burlap sack over his head, blocking his vision.

At that moment, Lynn felt he was lying on some platform, occasionally jolted by the bumps of a carriage.

His hands were cuffed behind his back, making it impossible to move.

Still, Lynn managed to gently rest his right index finger on his left wrist, thanks to the cover of his body.

In the distance, he could faintly hear the sound of bells from the street, gradually being left behind by the speeding carriage.

The bells rang ten times in total.

In contrast, the carriage was eerily quiet, as if he were the only one inside.

However, he was keenly aware that the guy named Morris had Shadow Manipulation Ability and was likely hiding in some corner, keeping an eye on him.

As for Little Black—oh no, I mean Afia—who knows where she has gone.

Of course, Lynn was fine with that.

It gave him a chance to think about his next steps while on the way.

But there was one thing he found quite strange.

Ever since he met Morris and the others, the system seemed to have vanished, with no more prompts or warnings coming through.

Although he didn’t know why, Lynn breathed a sigh of relief.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

With that thought, Lynn recalled the exchange he had with Morris.

Who exactly was “that lady”? Why did they want him? The first question remained unanswered.

But for the second question, he had some ideas.

It was probably related to the Bartleyon surname.

But now, as a family sinner exiled to Orlen City, all his past was stripped away, making him nearly useless.

In fact, Lynn’s memories included several times when he had the urge to commit suicide.

He honestly had no clue what good he could still be.

And so, lost in thought, this unknown journey soon reached its destination.

The carriage slowed down.

The slight inertia brought the somewhat dazed Lynn back to reality.

Soon after, accompanied by the sound of the door opening, a cool draft filled the carriage.

At the same time, a hoarse and aged female voice called out from nearby, “Mr. Lynn, it’s time to get out.”

With that, someone came up and helped him from his seat.

Lynn had no intention of resisting because even if he could get the cuffs off, he couldn’t take on that woman’s henchmen.

Moreover, having somewhat guessed the intentions of the other party, he felt a bit more at ease.

—Until he came face to face with the man who claimed to be the interrogator.

Was this underground?

Though blindfolded, Lynn could still sense he had been brought to some underground facility.

This facility was quite deep; he had walked down a staircase for five or six minutes and had wound around a path for a while before he felt himself being pushed into a chair.

Then, the hood was roughly pulled off him.

However, the cuffs remained tightly locked behind him.

As his vision returned, the harsh light caused him to squint, and he discovered he was in a rather clean room.

But aside from the bare concrete walls, there was just a table in front of him.

Moments later, the prison door creaked open.

A cold-faced blond man walked in, pulled out the chair across from Lynn, and took a seat. He placed a stack of papers and a pen on the table.

Without any preamble or pleasantries, the blond man spoke directly, “You are Lynn Bartleon?”

Lynn sized him up.

The man appeared to be in his twenties or thirties, tall and good-looking, with golden hair that shone brilliantly under the lights.

But right off the bat, it was clear this guy was quite arrogant.

Dealing with someone like that was actually pretty simple.

So Lynn put on a cold smirk, “Yeah, that’s me.”

Then he pretended to be cocky, propping his legs up on the table, pointing his boots at the other guy.