Crescent City Garden District, palace-style residence.
It was silent in the middle of the night and the lights were bright. Leopard sat on his knees and looked at the dozens of scrolls on the carpet. They were densely written, and they were all about Gordon, Freckles, Artest, Tracy and Saffron after they entered Crescent City.
Trends. Everything is recorded in detail.
These monitoring reports came from the local Blood Prison Club stronghold, and were made in duplicate. One copy was sent to the headquarters for filing; the other was requested by Hua Bao in the name of the training base.
Leopard pulled out Freckles' information and read it carefully first.
"Around seven o'clock in the morning on Monday, on the 12th, I went into the city to fight with the gangsters, and then joined a mule driving gang, drinking and gambling with others, and stayed up all night..."
"At around 12 noon on Tuesday, No. 12 participated in a gang fire at the east gate of the market. From 4 to 7 p.m., No. 12's whereabouts were unknown. That night, the Mule Drive Gang had an internal fight for power, and No. 12 became the new boss of the Mule Drive Gang.
The deputy..."
"On Wednesday, the Mule Gang and the Iron Fingers and the Wild Dog Gang fought one after another. The boss of the Mule Gang died in the fight. No. 12 rose to the top at an unprecedented speed and became the boss of the Mule Gang..."
"On Thursday, Iron Finger, the Wild Dog Gang surrendered to the Mule Driver Gang, and on the 12th they became the boss of the three streets in Beimen..."
Hua Leopard closed the scroll. Obviously, Freckles planned to use the underground force to force out the Storm Horse Thieves and play a dangerous trial game with them. Just because he was on the cusp of the storm, Freckles was captured by spies from the Blood Prison Society.
They focused on monitoring, but Huabao couldn't find an opportunity to strike.
The final battle between the Freckled Five and the Horse Thief must be led outside the city. Only in the vast and desolate Ghost Desert can we try to get rid of the supervisory spies of the Blood Prison Society and complete the master's mission. While Hua Bao was thinking deeply,
He also picked out Gordon's monitoring report. The content of this information was the least, and most of it was the time record of entering and leaving the Magic Lamp Hotel on the 13th.
"No one can follow No. 13 on the street without being thrown away. I have been conducting surveillance for 20 years, and I have never met such a sophisticated and troublesome newcomer. So after the gang incident at the east gate of the market, we just found out that it turned out that
No. 13 is the source of all this..." The end of the report reads, "It is recommended that the headquarters cultivate No. 13 as an elite."
Hua Bao threw away the report and laughed ferociously. So what if No. 13 is a genius? This little maggot who tricked him will sooner or later be played to death by that old pervert, Zombie.
Then he opened the whereabouts information of Artest and Tracey. They were temporarily staying at the Black Eagle tribe outside the city. Artest would help the herdsmen and practice horse riding when he had time. Tracey seemed to be spoiled, squandered and even gave away
A lot of beautiful jewelry for the little girls of the tribe.
From this information, Hua Bao roughly figured out the assassination plan of Freckles and the others. This was a division of labor between overt and covert, using both coercion and inducement to force the horse thieves to reveal their traces step by step. The whole process was progressive and orderly, and the methods were efficient and effective.
Complementarity can be regarded as a brilliant strategy.
But the leopard faintly smelled something unusual.
For this assassination plan to be successfully completed, the premise is that the five-person group has a very high level of trust, like five intimate fingers clenched into a cohesive fist. Some are willing to be targets, and some are willing to be bait for each other.
A tacit understanding of division of labor.
Freckles, Saffron, Tracy and Artest have always been very close. They trust each other and it is reasonable. But what about Gordon?
In the last two years at the base, Gordon lived alone and had almost no interaction with other teenagers. In this operation, the relationship between Gordon and Freckles, according to the monitoring report, was equally cold and distant. How could he be a good person?
Part of the assassination plan? Hua Bao was puzzled.
Among the monitoring reports of the five-person team, the information describing crocuses was the most detailed and accounted for a full \u4e0
1000
0 half volume.
He didn't care about exposing his secrets at all, and openly wandered around major bars and restaurants as the troubadour Saffron, singing and performing, making a big splash and winning widespread applause. In just a few days, Saffron became somewhat famous, and a family called Saffron
The pub "I'm Going Back to My Hometown in Spring" even paid for him to perform there and provided free food and accommodation...
"Clang!"
Two wooden ale cups with snow-white foam collided together, and the golden liquid splashed out, shining brightly under the lights of the tavern. They raised their glasses and drank up the ale in one gulp.
"Haha, damn, it's so refreshing!" The bald man put down his wine glass and wiped a handful of the wine juice flowing down his stiff beard. His clothes were open, his solid chest was half-naked, his skin was dark and yellow, and his right cheek
There is a small black mole with a few wire-like black hairs emerging from it.
Saffron sat opposite him, her face flushed, her eyes hazy with drunkenness, and the tavern sign hanging outside seemed to be dancing in front of her eyes. "Spring...back...home." He bit his tongue and said, "The name of this tavern is so good...
Strange!"
"Because... I want to go home!" the bald man muttered, walked to the corner of the tavern hall, picked up an oak barrel, walked back, and poured wine into the two empty wooden cups on the table. "Here,
Genius little troubadour, let’s have another drink!”
Saffron grabbed the wine glass, stuffed it into his mouth, suddenly burped, lowered his head and vomited. "No... I can't drink anymore." He wiped his mouth in embarrassment and looked around. In the dead of night, people in the tavern
The guests had all left, and the waiter had gone to take a nap upstairs. Only the two of them were left in the empty hall, drunkenly facing each other. For a moment, it was hard to tell whether it was lively or desolate, but suddenly came to Saffron's heart.
"If you can't drink, then sing. Let's sing the song "Five Hundred Miles"!" The bald man took out a handful of gold coins from his pocket and scattered them on the table. "Here, give me a reward!"
"You've heard it dozens of times. But, we are friends, you can listen to it as many times as you want!" Saffron pushed it with his hand, and the gold coins fell to the ground with a "ding". This was his stay in this tavern.
The first day of the performance, with the drinkers\u5
17ae
We also just met the 149-headed man. This man is straightforward and generous, and he likes Saffron's singing skills very much. The two have a good temperament, and they talk happily.
The melodious sound of the harp sounded, and Crocus sat on the ground, plucked the strings, and sang in a low voice.
"If you miss the carriage I'm riding in,
You will understand that I have left,
You will hear the sound of horse bells coming from a hundred miles away.
one hundred miles,
one hundred miles,
You will hear the sound of horse bells coming from a hundred miles away.
After a hundred miles,
After two hundred miles,
After three hundred miles,
After four hundred miles,
I have been five hundred miles away from home."
This slang song was written by the famous Browning. It has a fresh and melancholy tune and is widely sung among the people. Under the bright lights, Saffron caught a glimpse of the bald man with dim eyes, hugging the oak barrel and drinking heavily.
"I am naked,
I am broke,
This road cannot take me home.
this road,
this road,
This road cannot take me home."
The fingers were lightly hooked, the music was playing, and the lingering sound of crocuses echoed around the silence. The bald man put down the wine barrel, felt sad for a long time, and asked in a low voice: "You troubadours are wandering around, don't you want to go back to your hometown?"
"
Saffron shook her head: "I have no home, and I don't know where my hometown is."
The bald man was stunned for a moment, with a strange look in his eyes: "Little brother, it turns out you are also an abandoned baby."
Saffron was silent for a while and asked: "You don't have your own hometown either?"
"No. But if... that place can be considered my hometown, it's very far away, more than five hundred miles away." The bald man muttered.
Saffron asked again: "Why don't you go back?"
The bald man remained silent and continued to drink. The wine barrel covered his face, and Saffron could only see the wine wet his bare chest like tears.
With a "bang" sound, the bald man threw the barrel away with all his strength, and the broken wood pieces flew everywhere. "Because - I don't have the shame to go back." He stood up and strode out.
Saffron turned around and looked around, and at some point, there was an old man standing in the shadow outside the tavern door, with his head bent and silently smoking a hookah.
"I am not an abandoned baby." When the bald man walked past, Saffron suddenly shouted loudly, "I am the child of fireflies!"
The bald man's shoulders trembled and he suddenly stopped. He was silent for a while, patted Saffron's shoulder hard, and then pushed open the door of the tavern. His open clothes were filled with the lonely night wind.
He and the old man walked into the darkness together.