Chapter 171: Chapter 171

"But this is under the city. How could they have tunneled all the way here from a mine outside the city walls?"

Jenkins voiced his confusion.

"Nolan City only began to flourish after the kingdom was founded. During the time of the ancient Sicari Empire, this was just a small fishing village. And even further back, in the 17th Epoch, this place was probably uninhabited... That's how it is."

After walking for less than five minutes, they reached the end of the mineshaft. Papa Oliver told Jenkins to cover his ears, then put a whistle to his lips and blew hard.

A shrill, piercing whistle shattered the silence of the mineshaft. Jenkins flinched as a violent shiver ran down his spine. He suspected the sound carried deep into the tunnels behind them. Even though Papa Oliver had said this ancient mining area was fully explored and safe, in such a quiet environment, his imagination couldn't help but run wild.

After the whistle stopped, Papa Oliver helplessly cleaned out his ears, then he and Jenkins watched the rock face in front of them. As if drawn with chalk, a door appeared, line by line. Follow current novᴇls on novᴇlfire.net

It was an ordinary wooden door, painted with a bizarrely shaped human ear, with hairs even sprouting from the ear canal. Above the ear was a string of gilded, indecipherable text.

"B-11-5-4004, the Greedy Voice-Activated Door. Every month, it records a specific sound. Only when that sound is made will the door and the space behind it manifest. The drawback is that it's one of the very few special items that requires an energy source to function. And it needs silver—high-purity silver. This is why the Orthodox Church has heard of it but never considered using it for storage."

"Isn't the Church very wealthy?"

Papa Oliver was clearly very familiar with this item.

"Obviously, there are some permanent spaces behind it, but in this era, no one knows how to use them. More importantly, this door can only be opened from the outside, so we won't close it."

The two stepped through the door as they spoke. Behind it was a space even smaller than Jenkins's washroom, completely devoid of any decoration.

In the center of the bare floor, seven lit, blood-red candles formed a circle, enclosing a chair and the bald old man sitting on it.

This was the most ancient-looking person Jenkins had ever seen in this world. His entire face was a curtain of sagging skin. His gaunt body was draped in a plain white robe with no adornments; it looked more like a bedsheet. The wrists and hands peeking out from the cuffs were so thin you could almost see the bones.

A rancid smell permeated the air—not the stench of a corpse or rotting food, but more like expired machine oil.

"Look at those seven candles. That's the [Seal of the Undying Dead], number B-12-2-4118."

There was a hint of mockery in Papa Oliver's tone. "Any living being who stays within the circle of these seven lit candles will never die of old age. But once you've entered the seal, no matter how much life you have left, you will die instantly if even one candle goes out or if you leave the circle. It's probably the worst method of life extension imaginable."

"Can we really say all this right in front of him?"

Jenkins asked in a low voice from behind him. The place was so quiet, however, that lowering his voice made no difference.

"It's fine. You can call him Mr. Bides. He's 187 years old. All mortals must die. Even Extraordinary items can't completely solve that problem. He's still alive, but his bodily functions have deteriorated to their absolute limit. The owner of the Oil Ink Mister Club protects him, but he has to contribute to the club by answering visitors' questions. Fewer than forty people in Nolan City have the privilege. He seems to have been quite a remarkable figure in his youth, so he knows some secrets from a century ago. Living this long... this is about all it's good for."

As Papa Oliver explained, Jenkins kept his eyes fixed on the withered, stooped old man in the chair. For a few seconds, Jenkins almost thought he was already dead. But as long as the candles were burning, he couldn't be.

This was an Enchanter, but only level two, just like Jenkins.

"Do you know about the [Gear Germs]?"

Clearing his throat, Papa Oliver began his questioning.

"I do, but not much. That's the first question."

Mr. Bides's ancient voice was surprisingly clear as it echoed in the small, empty space. Jenkins had thought his frailty would make such a voice impossible. Because the man didn't look up, Jenkins couldn't see the expression beneath his bald head.

"How is the source of the [Gear Germs] infection created?"

"I don't know. That's the second question."

"How can one quickly identify someone infected with [Gear Germs]?"

"I don't know. That's the third question."

"During your long life, in the year of the first [Gear Germs] outbreak, what other major events occurred?"

"That's a very broad question... The biggest event was the internal strife within the Church of Creation and Machinery. A level-seven Enchanter defected, taking three Bestowals with him. That is the fourth question."

Papa Oliver and Jenkins exchanged a look. Could it be related?

"I only know of one. If you want the answer, it will cost you the price of five additional questions."

Papa Oliver didn't even blink.

"C-08-2-2218, the Stopped Clock."

"I don't know. That'll be ten questions in total. Five hundred pounds. Please pay outside. Cash only."

Papa Oliver was silent for a long moment, his eyes narrowed in thought. Then he looked at Jenkins:

"Do you have any questions?"

"Huh? Oh, me? No, none from me."

Papa Oliver nodded, and they both walked out.

Watching the door vanish as if it were being erased, Jenkins let out a breath. The space had given him an unsettling feeling, like standing in a graveyard.

"That expensive? Fifty pounds for one question?"

In the dim mineshaft, that was his first concern.

"He's worth the price. He really does know a lot. Sometimes I even pay him to appraise items. If I weren't afraid he'd just blow out the candles and kill himself, I would have reported him to the Church long ago."

Though he acted like he didn't care, Papa Oliver was clearly annoyed about the exorbitant cost.

"Papa, we're on someone else's turf."