Steam Age: I Fight Against Divine Authority with Otherworldly Tales

Chapter 66 Testing and Delegation

Inside the Star Club, Mrs. Howard was about to say something to ease the tension when Charles spoke first.

"Haha, I didn't expect Mr. Suren to be such a professional connoisseur. That's right, these two books are actually fakes."

Charles slowly took a cigar out of his pocket and put it in his mouth. Loft, his assistant, bent down, lit a match, and lit the cigar.

Suren was certainly not a connoisseur; he had only seen the production process of the two books through the "Revelation"—even that they were bound by Loft's assistant.

He leaned back gently in his chair, resting his chin on his hand, and watched Mr. Charles silently, waiting for him to continue.

Charles took a couple of puffs of his cigar, exhaled a smoke ring, and shifted his gaze to Suren's face, a smile on his lips: "Actually, I didn't come here today to make a deal with you. In Mrs. Howard's words, you are a highly capable Deathbird, outstanding in both strength and reconnaissance."

At this point, he adjusted his posture, his smile faded, his expression became more serious, and his tone became more sincere: "Actually, a batch of my goods was stolen, and I would like to ask for your help in finding them."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Russell, but I'm not interested in any commissions right now." Suren shook his head, declining Charles's request. After all, he only wanted to get promoted as soon as possible. "If you don't intend to sell the relevant books, then I'll take my leave."

Suren's tone was somewhat cold as she stood up.

To be honest, Suren didn't have much affection for Charles. He even felt that if he hadn't noticed the problem with the books, Charles would have taken the opportunity to sell him the two fakes.

Seeing Suren's actions, Charles could no longer sit still. He stood up abruptly, his voice tinged with apology: "Mr. Suren, I am truly sorry. After all, these matters are very important. Please forgive my presumptuous probing."

Upon hearing Charles's words, Suren stopped in his tracks. He was somewhat puzzled; the man's attitude was indeed strange, and he seemed to value him too much.

"These two books are indeed very rare, fetching up to £600 on the black market. They're definitely the kind of content you'd be interested in." Charles pointed to the two books, shaking his head helplessly. "However, they're also part of the stolen collection, so I can't make a deal with you right now."

He raised his head, his gaze falling on Suren, and said, word by word, "If you can complete the commission, these two books will be your reward. In addition, I will provide other compensation that will definitely satisfy you."

Suren pondered for a moment, glanced at Charles, and then sat down again.

Seeing Suren's actions, Charles breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down.

"Mr. Russell, I have a question." Suren picked up her coffee cup, took a sip, and acted somewhat casually. "I'm just an ordinary 'Deathbird,' yet you seem to have considerable trust in my abilities?"

Mrs. Howard, who was standing to the side, was also taken aback for a moment, but then she understood what Su Lun meant. After all, Mr. Charles Russell's connections were not enough to warrant such attention to a low-ranking "Deathbird".

Charles shook his head with a wry smile. He had indeed been too obvious. He rubbed his cigar, hesitated for a moment, as if making up his mind, and asked, "Have you ever heard of the God of Fortune?"

Suren knew, of course, that the deity's emblem was even in his ring. He nodded and replied, "The God of Fate—Tissil."

Upon hearing Suren's answer, Charles revealed a knowing smile and said with some delight, "You knew it all along, which means he wasn't lying to me."

"Him?" For some reason, a figure appeared in Suren's mind: a guy dressed in flamboyant clothes and wearing a cowboy hat.

Charles, with a cigar in his mouth, stared at the Glorious Stone lamp, as if searching for something in his memory.

"I don't know his name, or even what he looks like. All I know is that he's the leader of a mysterious organization." Charles exhaled a wisp of smoke, his face somewhat dazed. "Even with my extensive network, I don't know the organization's specific name. I only know that the organization worships the god of fate."

Mrs. Howard leaned over and asked curiously, "I've heard that those who believe in the god of fate revere destiny and believe that everything is ordained by fate?"

"That's just their public narrative. On the contrary, they manipulate fate, crave to control it, and will stop at nothing to achieve their own interests. Even within the organization, betrayal among members is common." Charles withdrew his gaze, a hint of sneer in his voice. "Mrs. Howard, if you see someone who believes in the god of fate, I suggest you stay away from them."

Mrs. Howard was not expected to hear such an answer, and she instinctively covered her mouth, which was agape in surprise, with her feather fan.

Suren tapped the table, drawing their attention back to Charles. His gaze fell on Charles's face, and he asked with a hint of inquiry, "So it was that gentleman who gave you some hints?"

Hearing Suren's words, Charles nodded and shrugged helplessly.

"You must have dealt with him before; he left me with some vague clues." He frowned at this point, seemingly somewhat resentful of those clues. "I only found out today, when we met, that those clues pointed to you."

Suren's lips twitched. He could understand Charles's feelings; this kind of cryptic riddle-maker was indeed quite annoying.

"Let me guess, you've actually searched for quite a few extraordinary individuals during this time, but to no avail, and ultimately pinned your hopes on his hints, right?"

Seeing Suren's slightly mocking smile, Charles could only nod with a wry smile.

Suren took a sip of coffee, pondering the pros and cons of the matter.

It's unlikely that Charles is lying. After all, a wealthy businessman from "Libraton" has no reason or need to scheme against him, especially since the other party's description does fit the mysterious man's style.

The question now is whether the risks behind this are proportional to its potential benefits.

After some thought, Suren decided to take on the task, since he didn't want to use the "Truth-Speaker's Manuscript" unless absolutely necessary.

Thinking of this, Suren raised her head and looked at Charles, saying, "I can help you, but you need to provide some clues. As for the reward... it depends on the difficulty of the task."

"Of course, we can discuss the payment later." Charles smiled, a hint of relief in his expression. For him, the shipment was more important.

He looked up at Loft, then reached out and slapped the table twice.

Loft understood immediately. As if he had been prepared, he took a step forward and reached out his right hand to feel around in the compartment of the suitcase.

A moment later, he pulled out a few photos and a small stack of documents, slapped them on the table, and pushed them toward Suren.

Suren picked up the photos and documents and flipped through them casually.

Besides the two notebooks that Su Lun had seen before, there were other objects in those photos, all of which looked rather antique, and their names were marked in pen below the photos.

Suren's gaze was drawn to one of the photographs, which showed a yellowed piece of paper, its material indistinguishable, and the writing on it illegible. What caught Suren's attention was the title at the bottom of the photograph—the Dead Sea Scrolls.