Chapter 310 Instigation Hearing Lumian's question, Anthony Reid, whose face had become fatter and whose skin was slightly oily, stared at him with his dark brown eyes for a few seconds and said: "I don't understand you." The intelligence dealer was calm and had a normal expression, and seemed to really not care about the death of G. Artois. Lumian smiled, without asking any further questions, and pointed downstairs. “Let me buy you a drink. "You helped me before, and we fought together. I'll buy you a drink as a farewell." Anthony Reid touched his receding light yellow hairline with his right hand that was not holding the suitcase, thought for a moment and said: "it is good." The two of them walked down the stairs that were lit only by a gas street lamp into the basement bar and sat at the bar. "What would you like to have?" Lumian asked in a relaxed tone, as if he were back home. "Aniseed absinthe." Anthony Reid responded simply. "Absinthe..." Lumian laughed, took out a silver coin worth 1 Fergold and four copper coins worth 5 Copeks, and threw them to the ponytailed bar owner Pavard Nissen, "Two glasses of 'Somersault'."
"Somersault" is bar slang for a double shot of aniseed absinthe, one of which is a "little mummy". The latter requires 7 Ricks, the former 12 Ricks. Pavard Neeson opened the normal cup and poured a dreamy green liquid into Lumian and Anthony Reid. Lumian just took a sip and felt the familiar bitterness and freshness, then he saw Pavard Nissen, who had a circle of dark brown beard around his mouth, speaking in a slightly flattering voice: "Charles, do you have that medicine?" The bar owner and amateur painter believed that as a well-known gang leader, Charles "The Lion" must have two or three channels to obtain illegal drugs. “What medicine?” Lumian asked with an unchanged smile, stroking the cup with his thumb. Pavard Neeson knew that Anthony Reid was an intelligence dealer who was often involved in various illegal incidents, so he did not avoid him and explained in a low voice: "Psychotropic illegal drugs. Hey, when I was affected by the strange tree before, I drew the draft that I was most satisfied with. No, it was not only the most satisfactory, but also the aesthetic level that I had always pursued but could never reach. It perfectly expressed my thoughts and ideas. After that, I never had that feeling again. Everything I drew was shit! I thought, try psychotropic drugs, hoping that I can get that feeling back." Lumian took another sip of the blurry absinthe and said with a sarcastic smile: "If I were you, I would choose not to paint again. You don't have the talent of a painter at all." Without waiting for Pavard Nissen to respond, he laughed: "The fact that you can only draw decent works by relying on drugs proves that you have no talent!" "But many famous painters have used it..." Pavard Nissen was interrupted by Lumian before he could finish his words. He said with a "tsk". “That means their creative abilities are starting to decline and their inspiration is no longer abundant. "Isn't this cheating? The works stimulated by drugs are compared with the works of other painters who painted normally, and they barely win, are selected for the exhibition, and are hung in the exhibition hall, loudly announcing to every visitor, 'Look, I am a despicable person, I am a person with low self-esteem, drugs are my talent, and the devil is my parent'." Seeing Pavard Nissen's face gradually turn pale, Lumian opened his arms slightly and asked further: "Would you be proud of this? "If you had talent, you would not have been an amateur painter long ago. Even if you failed to pass the review and could not be selected by the exhibition of works by living artists, private galleries should have come to you. You know the reality better than me." At this point, Lumian smiled: "You can't succeed with drugs. If you can use it, everyone can use it. It's not something that requires any technical skills. When everyone uses it, isn't it all about your original talent and level?" Pavard Nissen trembled for a while but couldn't speak. With a gloomy expression, he took two steps back and sat down, as if his soul had left his body. Anthony Reid had been drinking aniseed absinthe quietly, and only then did he turn his head to look at Lumian: "You don't really agree with the use of banned psychotropic drugs."
"What else?" Lumian sneered. Anthony Reid looked at Pavard Nissen who was struggling with himself and said thoughtfully: "You seem to have convinced him." "I just ignited the shame in his heart." Lumian replied in a flat tone. Anthony Reid nodded slightly: "What if I fail to convince you?" Lumian smiled immediately: "I'm not his godfather." If you are not convinced, then you are not convinced. Anthony Reid was silent for a few seconds, then looked at Lumian again: "The way you dissuade me is somewhat different from your usual style. Are you acting?" Very sharp, very observant... As expected of a Mid-Sequence Beyonder of the Audience Path... If I could ignite the inner flame of an Audience member, it would be of great help to my digestion... Lumian sighed inwardly, holding the wine glass with rippling green liquid, and said, looking ahead: "I picked up some leaflets earlier, which said that in the war with the Kingdom of Loen a few years ago, Hugues Artois abandoned his troops, causing a large number of people to die." Anthony Reid said nothing and drank his aniseed absinthe quietly. Lumian looked at the empty bar and continued: "I remember you suffered from post-traumatic stress syndrome in the war a few years ago." Gulp, Anthony Reid took a big sip of green wine. Lumian did not mention the congressman's campaign posters in the intelligence dealer's room. He looked at Pavard Nissen, who looked like he had lost his soul, and said to himself: "If you just hated Hugues Artois, you would be very happy to hear that he had been assassinated and get drunk in the bar. "If we want to find out why Hugues Artois did what he did, why he was able to enter politics and run for parliament after doing what he did, and who supported him, we have to look for other clues and let the deceased rest in peace. "The official Beyonders should be investigating this matter, but they have too many constraints and are not as reckless as the wild Beyonders." Anthony Reid remained sitting in the same position and took another big sip of aniseed absinthe. Lumian chuckled. "This is indeed very troublesome. There are too many obstacles and dangers. Giving up is something that everyone would have thought of. Anyway, Hugues Artois is dead. The murderer who directly caused the tragedy is dead. The deceased should be able to get some comfort." Anthony Reid stopped drinking, and there was no change in expression on his portly, middle-aged face. Lumian glanced at him sideways, lowered his voice, and said with a smile: "People with serious mental illnesses should not be able to continue to advance in the 'audience' path. Even if they are no longer promoted, they may suddenly lose control due to the corresponding stimulation and become monsters. In this increasingly dangerous world, for Beyonders with obvious defects and serious problems, a stable life is just a luxury." Having said this, Lumian restrained his expression, looked at Anthony Reed's profile, and asked in a deep voice: "Do you want to leave with regret and reluctance, waiting to become a monster in pain, not daring to face your former comrades, or do you want to risk your life, continue to track down, and be your own hero?" Without looking at Anthony Reid's reaction, Lumian jumped off the stool, picked up the glass of anise absinthe, and drank the rest of the wine in one gulp. Then, he leaned close to Anthony Reid's ear and whispered: "I played a certain role in the death of Hugues Artois. "We are still tracking down his issues."
After seeing Anthony Reid shudder slightly, Lumian straightened up and left the basement bar without looking back. He went all the way back to Room 207, left the door open, and lit the calcium carbide lamp. He immediately turned the chair over and sat down, looking out into the dark corridor with a relaxed attitude. Lumian waited in unusual silence, as if he was sure that the person he wanted to see would appear. As time passed, the couple started arguing again, and drunkards gradually appeared on the street. Not-so-heavy footsteps were heard, approaching the light-pouring Room 207 with obvious hesitation. The corners of Lumian's mouth gradually curled up, and he leaned back in his chair, looking at the door. Not long after, Anthony Reid, wearing a military green top and matching trousers, strapless leather boots, and with his hair very short and thin, appeared there. He stood in the area radiated by the calcium carbide lamp, looking at Lumian who was sitting at the wooden table with a smile, and his facial muscles were slightly distorted. He said in a low voice: "I know you are provoking me, I know you are acting, but, but you are right..." Anthony Reid, who was already middle-aged, raised his right hand, pressed his left chest, and said with a ferocious expression: "In the past few years, my heart has been burned by the flames of pain and resentment." Lumian smiled and closed his eyes, sensing that the "Arsonist" potion had digested a little more. He immediately stood up and said to Anthony Reid: “Facts are the most powerful weapon of persuasion.” After Anthony Reid said what he just said, he seemed to relax and no longer had any inner struggles or conflicts. He walked into room 207, closed the wooden door, and looked around. "Did you really kill Hugues Artois? How far have you tracked him down now?" "Chelia Bello, who assassinated Hugues Artois, is my friend. I was the first to discover that Hugues Artois was supported by multiple evil cults." Lumian simply replied, then said sincerely, "I'm sorry, I lied to you just now." Anthony Reid was stunned for a moment: "Which one?" Lumian smiled. "We haven't actually started tracking down the people and forces behind Hugues Artois." (End of this chapter)