Chapter 131 Traces of the Past

The night in Torpoint is always so dark, chaotic, but fascinating.

Just in the deepest part of Taymor Lane, that clutter of scrap metal, ship planks, and wooden fences, hides a surprising subterranean world.

Those rough men who have been sailing at sea for a long time will always seize all the time on the shore, letting pounds, alcohol and women wash away the fishy smell from their bodies.

Among the sailors who spend most of the year floating at sea, there has been a saying since ancient times: Don't wait until your dead bodies are floating on the sea surface to regret that your gold has sunk on the bottom of the sea.

Maca was walking in the deep and familiar alley, and from time to time he would run into groups of strong men, and they were the same, all walking in the depths.

But no one speaks to each other until they reach their destination—one of the many unwritten rules in Taymor Lane.

When Maca came to a broken iron house transformed from a large shipping container, he walked to the door familiarly, and pushed the sloppy old man who was dozing off on a metal bucket.

"Baird, wake up!"

The old man squinted his eyes and raised his head, looking at Maca boredly.

"Stop pushing, when have you ever seen me fall asleep?" the old man said vaguely, picked up the dirty wine bottle in his hand and took a big gulp into his mouth.

While drinking, he spread his palms towards Maca and shook, "...how about today's?"

Maca took out a small paper roll from his pocket, and snapped it into the old man's hand angrily.

The old man habitually curled up his fingers and touched it, then curled his lips: "Little devil, even if you are an acquaintance, you should raise the price next time!"

He said, beckoning to Maca, beckoning him to come closer.

"There are quite a few fat people today. One is the leader of the merchant ship on the West Bank, named Alger; the other is a nobleman from Brest, France, named Vincent or something..." the old man muttered, with a smirk in his mouth. The smell of alcohol sprayed directly on Maca's face, but he had to continue listening, "Well, there are some guys from North Germany. Although the origin is not very clear, they are well dressed."

"Baird, let's get to the point..." Seeing that the old man was still muttering, Maca couldn't help urging.

"Okay, you brat can't bear your temper... The leader of the merchant ship brought a little girl, I looked like...you understand." The old man said with a smile, "The serious caravans on the west bank also started It’s a dark path, and it’s not in vain for those old guys who died to pave the way for them.”

Maca nodded clearly, touched his chin and whispered: "This is a big deal..."

"Little devil, do you still want to do it alone? This time you are a big survivor—"

"What about the big living people? It mainly depends on where they brought them..." Maca pondered for a while, then suddenly froze for a moment, "Why do I feel that this thing is a bit familiar?"

The slovenly old man said nothing.

After entering this gold-selling cave in Taymor Lane, one would not be willing to come out without a whole night's work, and some guys could even soak in it until they ran out of money in their pockets.

There was still a lot of time, Maca waved at the old man casually, and walked towards the broken iron house like taking a walk.

Behind the tin house, there is a field that is blocked up, down, left, and right. There are quite a few people here, and most of them are stuck in a passage leading to the underground and wandering around.

Those people looked much more sloppy than old Baird. Most of them were shirtless, with a pair of tattered trousers under them. When they saw someone passing by, they swayed forward, sneaked out some small paper packages from their pockets, and began to sell to them in a low voice.

Maca walked all the way in, those people seldom even looked at him - they had long remembered Maca's appearance, and that was not the object of their "business".

Passing through a downward sloping passage, I casually greeted two muscular strong men standing at the exit,

Then Maca stepped into the "Torpoint Underground Entertainment Center" where he made a living.

Here, there are many acquaintances, but no one takes the initiative to contact each other-they all have their own affairs to deal with, and the pound is at stake, and no one has the time to talk nonsense.

And more are the "uncles" who come here to spend money.

In this underground place, as soon as you enter the entrance, you can see that the area is divided into five areas.

The front one is a large table card field where many people participate, such as dice, poker, etc., and there are all kinds of tricks; while on the left is the place where wine girls greet drinkers, with dim lights, low Tables and chairs and tables full of wine bottles, drunk or not drunk is only a matter of thought.

What about the right side? On a big stage, the feasting, enchanting dreams, and smog filled the stage, bringing many sensory stimulations to everyone.

In the middle is a round bar, where the "masters" of wine tasting and life gather together. Generally speaking, the guests there are boring people with a lot of pounds in their pockets.

Originally, the place where Maca "worked" was that area, but today, he walked through the chaotic field, randomly turned around, and wandered to the deepest part of the field.

The innermost area is the highest-grade area here, and it is also the area with the highest consumption level. Generally speaking, the guys who make small troubles will not come here-the fish here are fat, but they are also smart! If you want to gain benefits here, you will not necessarily succeed if you spend a lot of time and energy, and few people like to run here.

However, Maca has been a little annoyed recently, and he plans to spend some time on it, and then rest for a while before talking.

After adjusting the "work clothes" on her body, Maca ran in small steps, looking back from time to time, pretending to be in shock.

Being young has its advantages. No matter who it is, the wariness of a child will always be very low.

Of course, there are always risks involved in doing certain things.

"Ouch!"

When passing behind a sofa, Maca staggered and fell to the ground.

There was a "bang", and he actually hit the hard ground. A man on the sofa in front turned his head and looked behind the sofa suspiciously.

Maca got up by himself, however, bright red blood was already dripping from his forehead.

"Son, what's the matter with you?" The man looked very energetic, with a tall and thin figure, decent clothes, and neatly brushed blond hair. It seemed that he was a guy who had been living in the upper class.

"Oh—sir, I was caught here—I don't know—I escaped, but I think my mother will be worried—" Maca said incoherently, with panic on his face.

"Oh, this is really too bad——" The man looked Maca up and down, but found that the clothes on him seemed to be purely handmade, and the fabric was quite extraordinary. He should be a child of a wealthy family.

At this time, Maca wiped something under his eyes while wiping the blood on the bridge of his nose. Soon, a stream of tears flowed down uncontrollably.

He scanned behind the man with a blurred vision, except for some men and women similar to this man, he soon found a little girl who was not much older than him was huddled in the corner of the sofa, looking at him uneasily.

"Son, if you trust me, tell me about it..." The man smiled, but Maca couldn't stop complaining in his heart—this guy should be the merchant captain Alger from the West Bank, Entering this line for the first time, the level is a bit low...

"...Come on, sit down and talk about it, and I will help you."

The man put his arms around Maca's shoulders and let him sit on the sofa, and those men's companions also came up to comfort Maca. A young lady took out her handkerchief and wiped the blood on Maca's forehead.

"Oh——thank you, ma'am!" Maka said gratefully, her lips trembling, "my home is in London, when the servant sent me to school, I was taken away by that bad guy—I really need help, Sir, my father can give you a lot of money..."

He spoke tremblingly in a very authentic London accent, and looked behind the sofa from time to time, as if he was afraid that the unfounded "bad guy" would suddenly come out and take him back.

Although his words were intermittent all the time, he poured out all the key information that should be revealed to them.

"It's okay, let me introduce myself first—" the man grinned and said with a gentle smile, "I'm Alger, a businessman from the West Bank, if you trust me, you might as well take our boat, I I can take you back to London."

But Maca knew very well that the caravan from the West Bank had just come from Margate, and they would definitely not go back in a short time. According to their previous route, it was pointing to the Cantabrian Sea west of France.

"Oh—thank you so much, Mr. Alger." Maca trembled excitedly, "I will let my father pay you accordingly! Definitely!"

He is like an aristocratic boy spoiled by his parents, he talks about money and money. Although it makes people feel disgusted, he has a clear sense of reality.

After sitting on the sofa for a while, Maka expressed her worries to the man from time to time, saying that bad guys would definitely come after him in a while.

At this moment, a fat man with chestnut curly hair and luxurious clothes walked over from the next table.

"Alger, this way." The fat man waved at Alger.

"Mr. Vincent, what's the matter?" Alger asked the young lady to look after Maca, while he walked towards the fat nobleman.

"Where did this little boy come from?" the fat man said with a smile.

"Which colleague did you escape from?" Argel also smiled, "Why, Mr. Vincent, are you..."

"Look at that child's delicate skin and tender flesh. I have a distinguished guest over there who must be interested." The fat man smiled lewdly.

"Don't you want to hear about that kid's identity?" Alger said meaningfully.

"Oh? And the origin?" Fatty Vincent raised his eyebrows and said, "Let me tell you, if it suits that distinguished guest, it's not impossible to increase the price..."