661 “Reconnaissance Tools”
During lunch, Lumian used the excuse of going to the washroom to make his way to Hisoka Twanaku’s tawny house.

After ascending the wooden stairs and passing through the empty, open ground floor, he took out a new wire and picked the lock on the door.

This level was completely open-air, leaving only support pillars. At a glance, it was very spacious and simple.

Stepping onto the wooden floor, Lumian circled around but found signs that no one had lived here for a long time. He found nothing worth further investigating.

Suddenly, a voice came from behind him.

“What’s the problem here?”

The voice belonged to Camus Castiya. When he saw Lumian enter Twanaku’s rebuilt house from the dining room window, he found an excuse to leave the table and hurry over.

Lumian wasn’t surprised at all. He looked around and said, “Nothing.”

As he spoke, he ascended the stairs to the third floor.

Camus sighed silently and followed.

He felt his mentality had aged considerably when with Louis Berry, resembling someone Vice-Captain Reaza’s age.

Oh, Mother Earth, I’m not even twenty-four years old!

Although I arrived in Matani at eighteen and joined the patrol team, dealing with numerous Beyonder incidents, participating in dangerous battles, and accumulating extensive experience, I am still a young man—a laidback young man who doesn’t focus on appearances in daily life!

With a solemn, vigilant mindset, Camus followed Lumian through the third-floor rooms twice, searching through all the items.

“There’s nothing out of place.” After setting down a pen holder, Camus shared his assessment with Lumian.

Lumian hadn’t gained anything either.

After a moment’s contemplation, he responded, “Bring Kolobo here later and ask if there are any areas that make him uneasy, dangerous, or uncomfortable.”

Having only collaborated once, he’s already adept at utilizing Kolobo’s uniqueness… Bringing Kolobo here… Why does it feel like a police officer asking a constable to bring a canine unit… Camus criticized inwardly and nodded.

“Understood.”

As Lumian surveyed his surroundings again, he thought, I’ll bring Ludwig over later and ask if he detects any fragrance of special ingredients.

Returning to the dining room with Camus, Lumian indulged in the Gwadar beverage, savoring the rich and intricate aroma of roasted beef, roasted chicken wings, roasted snake meat, roasted spiders, and roasted leeches…

After eating and drinking his fill, Lumian took Ludwig’s hand and led him to “Hisoka” Twanaku’s house. Camus, Lugano, and Kolobo—who wore sunglasses and walked sideways like a crab—followed closely behind.

After exploring every nook and cranny, Lumian looked at Ludwig and asked with a smile, “Is there anything edible here?”

Ludwig shook his head. “No.”

Lumian led the boy down to the second level and looked at Kolobo, who had suddenly turned his back to them, and Camus.

“Do any of you sense anything unusual?”

The thin Kolobo hesitated for a moment and said, “This house feels a little cold. It doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Where exactly?” Lumian inquired with a calm expression.

Kolobo replied succinctly, “Everywhere.”

There’s something wrong with the entire house and even this land? Hisoka definitely didn’t rebuild his previous home for nostalgia. He’s not the original owner of that body, so he probably doesn’t have much attachment to this place. He’s also a true Coldblooded… Lumian pondered for over ten seconds and said to Lugano, Camus, and the others, “Stay here and guard against any mishaps.”

He returned to the third floor and lay on a wooden bed with traces of someone having slept in it.

Large, black mosquitoes flew over with crackling sounds. However, in the flickering sparks, they were ignited one by one, turning into charred corpses that floated onto the bed.

Lumian quickly slipped into a deep slumber.

In his daze, he slowly awoke.

Pa! Lumian took out the golden pocket watch from Salle de Bal Brisé, opened it, and muttered to himself, “Slept for half an hour and didn’t have any special dreams…”

He had always believed the Dream Festival was related to dreams, so he deliberately slept in Hisoka’s house, but nothing happened.
Lumian gazed at the midday sun shining through the window and stood up thoughtfully.

Could the timing be off?

Must I sleep at a specific time and place to participate in the Dream Festival?

Therefore, most Tizamo Town residents are unaware of its existence…

When Lumian returned to the spacious but crude second level, he realized Camus and the others now had three more people with them.

One was a man in his thirties with a painted face. His light brown skin and thick lips gave him a relatively clean-cut look, and his black hair fell to his shoulders. A strong pungent smell wafted from him. The other was a young woman wearing dark leather armor. Her brown hair was tied in two strands draped over her shoulders. Her light brown skin and facial features exuded a wild beauty. She carried a hunting bow and a leather quiver of arrows on her back.

Another man, dressed similarly to Camus and the others in a shirt and thin pants, stood over 1.9 meters tall with an appearance leaning towards the Feysac Empire. He had short light-blond hair, light-blue eyes, and a face bearing signs of exposure to sun and rain.

“They’re our colleagues, members of the Tizamo Town patrol team,” Camus introduced.

He pointed at the man with the white paint pattern on his face and said, “Captain of the local patrol team, Maslow.

“His teammate…”

Camus turned to the wild-looking woman with a bow and arrows on her back and the tall Feysacian man and said, “Rhea.

“Loban, used to be an adventurer.”

He spoke in Intisian the entire time.

Finally, Camus addressed the three local patrol team members, “This is the great adventurer, Louis Berry. The other two are his assistant and godson.”

“This is the great adventurer, Louis Berry.

“The other two are his assistant and godson.”

“Great adventurer…” Maslow repeated the term and cast his gaze at Loban.

Feysacian Loban shook his head, indicating he had never heard of him.

Maslow averted his gaze and asked Lumian, “Are you here to hunt?”

Tizamo Town had been a favorite hunting ground for Port Pylos’s gentry for decades. There was no shortage of residents proficient in Intisian, and the patrol team had language requirements to handle the gentry’s requests.

Lumian responded with a smile, “Something like that.”

Hunting for Hisoka’s inheritance and hidden issues was also a form of hunting.

Seeing the skeptical expressions on Maslow and the others’ faces, Camus hurriedly explained, “Do you remember the telegram sent last night?”

“You mean…” With her hunting bow and arrows, Rhea couldn’t help but glance at Lumian again.

Clearly, she, Maslow, and company had just arrived and hadn’t had time to discuss the detailed situation with Camus and Kolobo. A telegram could only convey limited information.

Camus nodded solemnly.

“Monsieur Louis Berry is here to investigate the hidden issues behind Twanaku.”

Using the excuse of inspecting the house again, he led the three local patrol team members upstairs.

Lugano glanced at the stairs and asked Kolobo, who had his back to them, “There’s a local patrol team in Tizamo?”

Based on his experience, there shouldn’t be any official Beyonder teams permanently stationed in the Northern Continent’s small towns and villages like Port Pylos. They would typically send someone to handle issues as they arose.

Kolobo turned his back to Lumian and Ludwig, trembling as he replied, “Most other towns don’t have them. This place is rather special and is often attacked by primitive tribes. Not only did our patrol team station a permanent team here, but the Admiral Guard also has Beyonders at the military camp outside town.”

Lugano glanced at the strange official Beyonder who doubled as their carriage driver and couldn’t hide his curiosity.

“Why do you always have your back to us and wear black sunglasses?”

Don’t you want others to discover something’s wrong with your eyes?”

Kolobo fell silent, unsure if he should answer.

At that moment, Camus led Maslow and the others back to the second floor.

When they looked at Lumian again, Maslow, Rhea, and Loban’s expressions turned much more serious.

Lumian smiled and asked casually, “Did anything unusual happen with this house?”

“No,” Maslow had already recalled the relevant details.

With a nod, Lumian replied, “Were you transferred to Tizamo after the attack last year?”

He recalled the dossier had mentioned the three Beyonders stationed here perished in the primitive tribe’s attack.

“Yes,” Loban, the former Feysacian adventurer, replied in a rough voice. “It’s been nearly a year. It’s been very peaceful here. No more attacks.”

According to the records, the tribe in the primitive forest attacked two to three times a year in past years… Admiral Querarill’s response of sending more guards and army deterred the primitive tribe from taking the risk. Did they really retreat into the forest depths? Or did the April Fool’s prank cause something to change? Lumian sensed something amiss.

After conversing for a while, Lumian prepared to take Ludwig and Lugano to check into the motel.

Maslow took a few steps forward and retrieved two items from a small leather bag hanging from his waist.

There were brown candles and a glass bottle filled with a light-yellow liquid.

“Mosquito repellent candles and tranquil essential oil. I hope you get a good night’s sleep,” Maslow said in accented Intisian.

Camus chimed in, “What he means is that this place is close to the primitive forest, and mosquitoes and poisonous insects are everywhere. Although you’re Beyonders, it won’t be pleasant if you’re accidentally bitten. Furthermore, you won’t be able to sleep peacefully and will keep waking up.”

“The mosquito repellent candles are made from plants that mosquitoes dislike. Tranquil essential oil comes from certain animals, making those damned buzzing fellows stay away from you.”

At this point, Camus, Maslow, Rhea, and the others suddenly realized there were no mosquitoes on the entire second level.

Lumian turned to Ludwig and accepted the candle and oil with a smile.

Then, he gently pinched his nose to confirm the pungent smell on Maslow and the others came from the tranquil essential oil.

After Lumian, Ludwig, and Lugano left Twanaku’s house, Maslow looked at Kolobo, who had his back to everyone, in confusion. He asked in Dutanese, “What’s wrong?”