Secret World of Occultists
Chapter 70: Selling Meat Pies

Chapter 70: Selling Meat Pies

Only after Sergei had shut the book did he heave a sigh of relief.

Still, there was fear lingering in his eyes as he gazed at the cover of the book that was made from some kind of skin.

A chill crawled down his spine, thinking about just what kind of madman would create such a book. Furthermore, the knowledge contained inside was even more wicked.

Fortunately, he was able to find the ritual art to awaken his spirit energy written in simplified Ruskovian. Despite that, he was unable to read the words for more than a few minutes a day.

For if he did, he would be besieged by constant hallucinations and the ramblings of creatures unseen.

Soon, his eyes turned solemn and he thought to himself, But the notes state that once I become an Occultist, the spirit energy inside of my body will grant me some resistance against the efffects of the book.

Then, I will be able to learn even more esoteric knowledge from it!

Despite the book containing forbidden knowledge that would drive him insane, Sergei couldn’t help but marvel at the skills of the author of this book.

The dark-leathered book was written in such a way that it only allowed the reader to grasp knowledge pertaining to his station.

For example, Sergei was a Dormant. Yet, he was able to read the secret knowledge that revolved around Grade 1 Occultists.

Of course, he could try to venture even further. However, if he did that, turning insane would be the least of his worries.

Now all I have to do is follow the instructions in the book and conduct the ritual to awaken my spirit energy,

He turned his attention to the window in his main room. The man gazed at the moon with a thoughtful expression and muttered, "I should go buy the necessary ingredients required for the ritual tomorrow.

"Yes, I will practice a few more times before conducting the ritual art next week. Seven days after I awaken my spirit energy, I shall enter the Crucible. And when I return... I will no longer be the same man!"

Soon, he turned towards the wall, his gaze seemingly piercing through the concrete and landing at his neighbor.

His eyes narrowed and he thought to himself, But that man...

He is dangerous! He was able to tell a lot about me just by observing me for a few minutes.

I must be vigilant of him at all costs! Should I conduct the ritual someplace else? Or...

His blue eyes flashed with a cold light, but soon he shook his head.

No, I cannot risk it. I have come too far... I have too much to lose!

He turned his gaze towards the moon again, mumbling softly, "I will be patient. And once I become an Occultist, I will leave this city and move to Winchester."

Sergei sat on the floor of his main room, his gaze distant as he thought of the bright future to come.

His lips parted and he kept muttering in a daze, "My life will soon change. Everything will change. The future is bright... Oh, so bright..."

...

The following day, after finishing up with his studies with Madam Whitmore, Abel didn’t go to the Trust to train, instead, he went back home and got dressed in his old, worn-out garments.

He then headed towards Newport’s docklands, specifically to the area that the Marrowmen operated out of.

The youth was planning to first go scouting and gather necessary information on his target.

After confirming the location of their main hideout, what time they were away for work, what time all of them gathered to meet, and all other crucial intel, he would then make his move.

Abel was wearing his old trousers, and shirt, and fastened his suspenders. Instead of wearing his tophat, he chose to wear the flat cap instead to blend in.

In this day and age, flat caps were strongly associated with working-class people, after all.

Standing at the mouth of a cobbled alley, the youth rested against a brick wall of a building. He had a box full of meat pie tied around his neck and shoulders as he was disguised as a street vendor.

"Meat pies! Steamin’ meat pies! Fresh out the oven! A penny a pie! Filly yer belly! Warm yer bones! A penny a pie" The youth displayed theatrical salesmanship.

However, he wasn’t bothered about the sales at all. He had bought a dozen meat pies from another street vendor near Millbrook Street, and now he was planning to either sell them all or eat them all.

Of course, he was going to have the Trust reimburse him for all his expenses.

The reason he was selling meat pies near the docklands was naturally because this was part of his surveillance operation.

About fifty meters away from him was a bar called the Garrison. This was the main stronghold of the Marrowmen!

Although the intel Hugh Preston provided him contained practically everything about how the gang operated, Abel still wanted to come here once and see the place before he made his move.

He saw a few men wearing finely tailored glothes, standing outside the entrance of the bar and smoking hand-rolled cigarettes while chatting with one another.

When Abel saw them, his eyes narrowed. He instantly knew they were part of the Marrowmen.

In a district where everyone dressed in tattered clothes, wearing custom-made luxurious garments made them stand out too much.

Moreover, compared to the unkempt appearances of most of the people in that district, they look fresh and clean, almost as if they didn’t belong there.

The intel stated that the members of the Marrowmen gathered at the garrison every morning at 10:00 am, Abel thought to himself.

After that, most of them travel all around the surrounding districts and carry out the gang’s businesses, while only a few stay behind and run the bar.

Everyone would then rendezvous again at six in the evening.

However, the leader of the gang doesn’t have a fixed timing. He comes and goes whenever he likes...

Suddenly, his eyes widened ever so slightly when he saw a horse-drawn carriage stop by the bar.

Abel stopped hawking the pies and couldn’t help but mutter, "Could it be..."

From the carriage, a towering middle-aged man with mutton chops beard alighted. He was closte to seven feet tall and was built like a bear!

The man took a slow and long drag from the cigar as he calmly looked around the streets. Then, he turned his attention to the exterior of the Garrison, marveling at its beauty.

Several men in frock coats and top hats exited the bar and welcomed him in a few moments later.

This man was none other than the leader of the Marrowmen who went by the moniker Big Jack Mullan!

Abel’s eyes flashed when he saw the gang leader entering the bar. But he quickly shook his head and thought, No, I can’t make my move now...

The day after tomorrow is Sunday, and every member of the gang will gather at the Garrison at sunset to tally their gains for the week, and also get drunk. Very drunk.

The youth’s eyes narrowed and he made his decision.

That’s when I’ll strike!