Chapter 343: Entering the Slums

The roads in the slums were extremely narrow, barely wide enough for one person.

On either side were low shanties, some with doors, others with just a piece of cloth serving as one.

As Helag walked through the alleys, many malnourished children emerged, staring blankly at him.

Their gaze was unsettling.

Helag pondered for a moment before realizing what it was.

It was the look of a hunter eyeing its prey.

Such a gaze from young children was unusual.

More concerning to Helag was the feeling of being in the Abyssal cultists’ stronghold.

Along the way, he encountered numerous people with Abyssal Plane auras.

There were so many that Helag wondered if they realized they were cultists.

If they became cultists willingly, the Mozambi slums were a significant threat.

Even if they weren’t willing, the area was still problematic.

“Hey, handsome~” a scantily clad woman whistled at Helag from the roadside.

Perhaps men like Helag, clean and well-groomed, were rare here, so many women eyed him.

The bolder ones, like this woman, openly flirted.

Some even displayed themselves to Helag.

Helag could only smile wryly at such encounters.

He remained unfazed; none of them appeared clean.

Literally, no one seemed to have washed in ages.

This highlighted the poor hygiene conditions.

Helag didn’t want to catch any diseases.

Despite sunny days, the slum roads were perpetually muddy.

Walking, it sounded like stepping in wet mud.

Helag glanced at his boots, a gift from Reese, now caked in mud.

Asil led Helag deeper, reaching the slum’s center.

Asil remained silent, merely guiding, seemingly uninterested in conversation.

Helag observed the surroundings, noting the endless shanties, like an ocean.

In the distant horizon, tall buildings marked Silvermoon City’s prosperous areas.

“Even from here, they’re visible.”

Helag realized that even in the slum’s center, the grand structures were clear.

Residents lived in poor conditions, yet could see the homes of Silvermoon City’s elite, a constant reminder.

Helag continued, knowing he was close.

The path turned to clean, solid stone, no longer muddy.

Ahead lay a rare clean area, the road well-maintained, clearly tended to.

Nearby, a manor stood, its grand gate out of place in the slums, making Helag feel elsewhere.

Asil knocked on the gate, which opened.

“Come in,” Asil said, entering without a glance at Helag.

Helag resisted the urge to tap Asil’s head, entering to see what was planned.

Franz’s manor was larger inside, with Helag winding through to a small courtyard.

Franz sat in a chair, beside a round table with a bottle of red wine and three glasses.

“Mr. Helag, please sit,” Franz gestured to a chair for Helag.

Helag sat casually.

Franz said nothing, opening the wine bottle, “This wine was bought by young Bron. It cost him dearly, and I never drank it. After his death, I remembered it.”

“By the way, Mr. Helag, Bron was the young man you killed. You might not know his name.”

Franz spoke nonchalantly, pouring wine as if discussing trivial matters.

“Oh, so his name was Bron,” Helag smiled.

Franz nodded, “He was a good kid, always diligent. Was his death painful?”

Helag thought, “Probably not.”

He recalled Bron’s quick demise, vaporized by a punch.

The psychological shock might have been painful.

Franz placed a glass before Helag, “That’s good to hear.”

Three glasses, one for each, with one left untouched.

“Care to try?” Franz asked, drinking his wine.

Helag eyed the rich wine, clearly high-quality.

He smiled, downing it in one go.

“I thought you’d be afraid to drink,” Franz chuckled.

“If I dared to come, why not drink? What’s this about? Surely not just arrays,” Helag placed his glass down.

Franz leaned back, relaxed, “I just want to know how Bron died.”

“Simple, I punched him to death,” Helag said earnestly.

Franz shook his head, “Impossible. In the Abyssal Plane, he was at least second-level. How could you kill him with one punch?”

“That’s the truth. Believe it or not, it’s not my concern,” Helag replied bluntly.

“You want to die?” Asil glared, ready to strike Helag.

Helag glanced at Asil, “Who’s this fool? Seems brainless.”

Asil fumed, muscles tense.

“Asil,” Franz calmly called, halting Asil’s anger, though his chest heaved with rage.