The Guillotine Tavern in Paris, France.
Zhao Qian sat down after having a barbecue and a large glass of ale.
He took a 50-franc silver coin from the wallet of his warm clothes and put it on the dining table.
He waited for the waiter to come over and give him change.
The purchasing power of the current franc is still average and cannot be said to be very valuable.
Because the French Third Reich had just been established on September 4, currency, a symbol of value, can be said to have depreciated the most during times of turmoil.
Now it can only be regarded as barely recovering.
But in the eyes of some trousers who have suffered from social unrest, even a small amount of money can be regarded as a huge sum of money.
What's more, the money bag made a "ding, ding, ding, rang" sound from several men.
It was like sacred music that only God in heaven could listen to.
The candles in the tavern were still bright, but it was almost dark.
Zhao Qian spent the whole afternoon trying to find some rumors.
But because of various factors such as his appearance, it can be said that he got nothing.
Now, he can only rely on some of his own skills.
He looked intently at the cold guillotine.
According to the introduction from the waiter, this big guy seemed to have done something extraordinary.
One of these was the execution of its royal master, Louis XVI.
"It's for you."
Zhao Qian took the change and placed twenty centimes in the hand of the waiter who was giving the change.
"Thank you, rci." said the blond waiter with a curly beard.
"By the way, is there any strange rumored place in this city recently?
I want to go there for a visit."
He asked as if he was pretending to be casual after giving the tip.
"The Louvre."
The waiter replied, with a polite smile on his lips.
This was one of the answers Zhao Qian heard most this afternoon, and there were also some other random answers.
He wanted to ask for directions to the so-called Witcher Headquarters, but the person he asked either said he had never heard of it, or took him to a bar.
These things seemed to be covered up by something, and there were no reports on this in the newspapers.
Finally he thought about what he had experienced.
Things like dark creatures and demon hunters belong to the dark side of this city.
They tried their best to erase the traces they left, but someone would know.
Since it is the dark side of a city, some people naturally understand it.
Just like in the real world, ordinary patrol officers may not know much about the flow of people on their land.
But the gangster leader on this street can accurately know how many new and unfamiliar faces have been added.
Especially at a time when this kind of messaging was still in its infancy.
News is sometimes life.
He glanced at the big triangular axe, turned around and disappeared into the increasingly dark night.
"Old Royal Guillotine" Condition: Damaged "Origin: France, the Royal Torture Instruments Manufacturing Department of Paris."
"Device height: 3 meters."
"Height of the execution device: 22 meters."
"Device Rarity: White."
"Attack power: 180 220” "Material: pig iron, hammered by hand thousands of times."
"Attachment available: Old-time wooden manual valve rocker."
"Weight: 40kg."
"Conditions for use of the device: Strength must reach 8 points or above."
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"The device has additional special effects: The victim with a health value below 200 points will die."
"The combat effectiveness of this device is: 3" No stupid person would run around with this big thing "Evaluation: Use it to deal with your enemies, and the enemies can also use it to burn you."
"This device cannot be taken out of this world."
This was a series of hints about the thing he got from the ticket.
Having experienced an era when non-Church supernatural forces were burned at the stake, I believe that any demon hunter will become cautious.
The waiter at the bar whistled and wiped the water stains on the newly cleaned wine glasses with a clean rag.
He glanced at the gangsters who were following the gentleman who had made a rather generous move just now.
He shook his head helplessly.
He really can't control this.
After all, today's rich people still have too little social experience.
Don't they understand the simple truth that too much money cannot be placed in front of the world?
Zhao Qian was walking on the dark road, and he could still hear the footsteps following behind him. 16 points of perception can even allow him to vaguely feel the hostility of others.
The streets of Paris in the 19th century were still a little dark.
There are only some wandering warblers and a few pedestrians who don’t know their purpose on the street.
Although there was a certain knowledge and understanding of electricity during this period, it had not yet been widely promoted.
Edison's world's first central power plant was completed in Paris North in 1875.
Therefore, candlelight with relatively weak illumination is used more here.
Moving forward, Zhao Qian turned into a small alley next to him.
The bright light in front of the street shop reflected the side of his face.
It's the upstart kid.
Maybe he still took stolen money from his master.
The few guys behind who were pretending to be on the way also followed naturally.
As soon as I turned into the darkness, my eyes adjusted to the darkness from the bright light.
The two relatively strong gangsters who met at the front were greeted by a fist with a flat face.
The sale was very fast, and he punched the guy on the left with tattoos all over his abdomen directly, and then hit the guy on the right with an elbow on his stomach.
Both of them are taller than Zhao Qian.
He looked coldly at the three people standing there.
They looked at this yellow-skinned boy with caution.
One of the short men even pulled out a dagger, which reflected a faint light in the dark alley.
Rushing forward, Zhao Qian could feel the advantage that the double increase brought to him.
Take the two gangsters who fell on the ground, for example.
Based on the force he used to hit others, those two guys should still be able to move.
At least you can still stand up.
How could it be like now, with no ability to move at all, lying on the ground like two dead dogs, unable to move.
Almost before the two gangsters standing in front of them could fully react, their fists were already thrown out.
"Bang."
After receiving a fist from one of them, the man hit Zhao Qian on the chest with a muffled sound.
The movements are quite fast, even if they can make some simple reaction and dodge movements, it will not help.
"Pfft", there was a sound of the dagger stabbing straight through.
When the short man saw Zhao Qian rushing forward, he held the dagger, waiting for the opportunity to make a sneak attack.
But he didn't hide.
He subconsciously took a step forward, and grabbed the man's right hand holding the dagger with his right hand like an iron hoop.
At that moment, he raised his leg and kicked it out.
After all, street fights with short blades were relatively common, so he didn't panic yet.
As for the moment just now, it was more like a stroke of genius.
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The three men knelt on the ground as if they had been struck by a hammer.
Especially the short man, who rolled back a few times before stopping.
He was kicked in the abdomen by Zhao Qian and fell to the ground, rolling his eyes.
"Hey, don't pretend to be dead."
He stepped forward and tapped the guy with his foot.
Zhao Qian could almost confirm that this guy was the boss of this group of people, and his eyesight from being on the streets for a long time could not be faked.
No matter in any time period.
"Well."
The short man didn't answer, closed his eyes tightly, and fainted.
Even if Zhao Qian trampled a few of his fingers with his feet, he still didn't wake up.
It was really painful and dizzy.
"You."
Zhao Qian casually found another person.
This situation was obviously much better than that short man.
"Who is the boss in your area?"
He wiped the stains from his own shoes on the other person's body.
This was not a modern and hygienic thing.
This was the 19th century, a brief period when ignorance, disease and filth almost went hand in hand.
For example, this street is filled with a stink that is intolerable to those with mysophobia.
"Old Jack."
The man replied weakly.
The other person whose shoes were being shined by Zhao Qian even pretended to be dead without saying a word, for fear that this person who was the fat sheep in their eyes one second would notice him the next second.
Same.
"Get someone up and take me to his place.
I will make the remaining few unable to stand up forever."
He said, but what he said made everyone feel cold.
There was no bloodthirsty or cruel smile, and his tone was indescribably calm.
"You decide for yourself."
Zhao Qian stepped aside.
He just looked at the four gangsters standing up unsteadily with gritted teeth.
It's not cruelty, it's what these guys on the streets have to endure.
In this era of medical technology, losing an arm or a leg means you are truly disabled.
And being a crippled gangster in this era means that you have already stepped into death.
It was only after he had seen through these things that he could study seriously and get into college.
It's like they're trying to rob themselves.
As long as he succeeds, the best result is that he will be beaten and his money will be robbed.
And if he dares to resist, he will face the threat of death.
Not to mention that he is a yellow-skinned foreigner, even if he is a white-skinned foreigner, he will be like this.
In a big city like this, one more person than him disappears every day, and one person less than him disappears every day.
No one will notice.
Zhao Qian did not watch the fight between the four people.
He searched in his mind for the reminder information coming from the ticket.
"Based on your perception, you will get detailed statistics of the battle."
"The playback of combat information begins."
"Your boxing caused 36 points of physical damage to Old Jack's men, and the abdominal vital attack resulted in a damage bonus.
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The men of the little boss lost half of their health and temporarily lost their ability to fight."
"Your elbow attack caused 48 points of physical damage to Old Jack's men.
The abdominal vital attack resulted in a damage bonus.
The men of the little boss lost two-thirds of their health and temporarily lost their ability to fight."
"Your punch caused 36 points to Old Jack's men..."
"The little boss's men caused 12 points of actual damage to you."
"Your kick inflicted 58 points of physical damage to the mini-boss.
Your natural ability: passive activation of counterattack, forced to cause 25 points of damage.
You actually caused 83 points of actual damage.
The mini-boss was seriously injured and temporarily lost its combat ability
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