Chapter 132

Toboint's night is always so dark, messy, but intoxicating.

In the deepest part of Temo lane, a messy place composed of scrap iron, ship boards and wooden fences hides an amazing underground world.

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

Among the sailors who spent most of the year floating on the sea, there has been a saying since ancient times: don't wait until your bodies are floating on the sea before you regret that your gold has sunk on the bottom of the sea.

Maka walks in a deep and familiar alley. From time to time, she meets some strong men in groups. They are also walking deep.

But we don't talk to each other until we reach our destination - this is one of the unwritten rules in Tamo lane.

When Maka came to a dilapidated tin house transformed from a large sea cargo box, he skillfully walked to the door and pushed the dirty old man dozing on a tin bucket.

"Baird, wake up!"

The old man narrowed his eyes, raised his head, and gave Marca a a bored look.

"Don't push, when have you seen me fall asleep?" the old man said vaguely, picked up the dirty wine bottle in his hand and poured it into his mouth.

As he drank, he spread out his palm to Marca and shook it, "... What about today?"

Maka took out a small paper roll from her pocket and photographed it in the old man's hand.

The old man habitually curled up his fingers and touched it, then turned his mouth: "kid, even if you are an acquaintance, it's time to raise the price next time!"

He said, waving to Maka and motioning him to get closer.

"There are a lot of fat people today, one is the merchant ship leader on the West Bank, named Alger; the other is the nobleman in Brest, France, named Vincent or something..." the old man said with a groan, and the wine in his mouth sprayed on Marca's face, but he had to continue to listen, "well, there are some North German guys, although their origin is not very clear, they are well dressed."

"Baird, let's get to the point..." seeing what the old man was still muttering, Maka couldn't help urging.

"Well, you little devil can't stand it... The merchant ship leader brought a little girl. I look like... You know." the old man said with a smile, "the serious caravans on the West Bank have also begun to take a black road, which is not in vain for the old guys who died to pave the way for them."

Maka nodded clearly, touched her chin and whispered, "this is a big deal..."

"Kid, you still want to work alone? You're a big man this time -"

"What about the living people? It mainly depends on where they came from..." Maka thought and was suddenly stunned. "Why do I think it's a little familiar?"

The sloppy old man didn't say a word.

When you enter the gold selling cave in Tamo lane, you won't be willing to work all night. Some guys can even soak in it until they run out of money in their pockets.

There was still plenty of time. Maka waved to the old man at random and walked like a walk to the broken Tin House.

Behind the tin house, there was a field blocked up, down, left and right. There are many people here. Most of them are stuck around a passage leading to the underground.

Those people look much more sloppy than old Baird. Most of them were naked with a pair of ragged trousers under them. As soon as they saw someone passing by, they staggered forward, secretly took out some small paper bags from their pockets and whispered to sell them.

Maka walked all the way in. Those people didn't even look at him - they had long remembered Maka's appearance. It was not the object of their "business".

Through a downward inclined passage, she casually greeted the two muscular men standing at the exit, and then Maka stepped into the "toboint underground entertainment center" where he lived.

There are many acquaintances here, but none of them will take the initiative to contact each other - they all have their own things to do. It's about the pound, and no one has the time to talk nonsense.

What's more, it's the "Uncle" who comes here to spend money.

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

At the front is a large table playing field with many people, such as dice and poker; On the left is the place where the wine ladies greet the wine guests. The dim lights, low tables and chairs and full tables of wine bottles are only between drunk and not drunk.

On the right? On a big stage, there are many sensual stimuli, such as red wine, green wine, enchanting dreams and smoke.

There is a round bar in the middle. There are "experts" in wine tasting and life. Generally speaking, the guests there are boring people with a lot of pounds in their pockets.

Originally, the place where Maka "worked" was that area, but today, he walked through the chaotic field, around the bend at will, and strolled to the deepest part of the field.

The innermost area is the place with the highest grade and the highest consumption level. Generally speaking, the guys who make small trouble don't come here - the fish here are fat, but they are also smart! If you want to make a profit here, you may not be able to do it by taking pains. Few people like to run here.

However, Maka has been a little bored recently. He plans to spend some time tossing around and then take a break.

After adjusting her work clothes, Maka took small steps and looked back from time to time, pretending to be in shock.

Being young has the advantage of being young. No matter who is, his vigilance towards a child will always be very low.

Of course, when you do something, you always have to take some risks.

"Ouch!"

As she passed behind a sofa, Maka stumbled under her feet and stabbed her head to the ground.

With a bang, he actually knocked on the hard ground. A man on the sofa in front looked back at the back of the sofa.

Maka got up on her own, but red blood was dripping from her forehead.

"Child, what's the matter with you?" the man looks very energetic. He has a tall and thin figure, decent clothes and blond hair. He looks like a guy who has 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 -" Marca said incoherently, with a panic on her face.

"Oh, that's too bad -" the man looked up and down at Maka, but found that his clothes looked pure handmade and the cloth was quite extraordinary. He should be a child of a rich family.

At this time, while wiping the blood off the bridge of her nose, Maka wiped something under her eyes. Soon, a stream of tears could not stop flowing down.

He swept behind the man with blurred vision. In addition to some men and women similar to the man, he soon found that a little girl not much older than him was shrinking in the corner of the sofa and looking at him uneasily.

"If you believe me, make complaints about me," said the man, smiling at the man's face. But Marca was in his heart. He should be Alger, the merchant captain of the West Bank.

"... come on, sit down and talk about it. I'll help you."

The man put his arm around Maka's shoulder and let him sit on the sofa. The men's companions also came up to comfort Maka. A young lady also took out her handkerchief and wiped the blood on Marca's forehead.

"Oh - thank you, madam!" Marca said with a grateful face and trembling lips. "My house is in London. When the servant took me to school, he was caught by the bad man - I really need help, sir. My father can give you a lot of money..."

He trembled in a very authentic London accent, and looked behind the sofa from time to time. He seemed to be afraid that the unwarranted "bad man" would suddenly run out and catch him back.

Although his words have been intermittent, the key information that should be disclosed to them has been poured out without leakage.

"It's all right. I'll introduce myself first -" the man grinned gently. "I'm Alger, a businessman on the West Bank. If you can trust me, you might as well get on our boat and I can take you back to London."

But Maka knew very well that the caravan on the West Bank had just come from magate and would not go back in a short time. According to their previous route, it is pointing to the Cantabrian sea to the west of France.

"Oh - thank you so much, Mr. Alger." Marca trembled excitedly. "I'll ask my father to pay you the corresponding reward! Sure!"

He is like an aristocratic boy spoiled by his parents. Opening and closing his mouth is money. Although it is disgusting, he has a clear sense of reality.

After sitting on the sofa for a while, Maka expressed her concern to the man from time to time, saying that there must be bad people coming in a while.

Just then, a fat man with chestnut curly hair and luxurious clothes came from the next table.

"Alger, this way." the fat man waved to Alger.

"Mr. Vincent, what's the matter?" Alger asked the young lady to look after Marca, and he walked towards the noble fat man.

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

"From which colleague did you escape," Alger smiled. "Why, Mr. Vincent, are you..."

"Look at that child's delicate skin and tender meat. I have a distinguished guest over there who must be interested in it." the fat man smiled obscene. "It can also be regarded as flying to the pound in your hand. Discount it!"

"Don't you want to hear the identity of the boy?" Alger said meaningfully.

"Oh? What's the origin?" the fat Vincent raised his eyebrows and said, "let me hear. If it suits the noble guest's appetite, it's not impossible to increase the price..."