Chapter 2620: Descending Gently (69)

About noon the next day, Shiller and Martin returned to the second-hand market. In addition to needing to purchase fishing line and rope, which were almost used up, Shiller also planned to buy some fishing gear.

He felt certain that he couldn't hold the housewarming party inside the house; the big pit wouldn't be filled up anytime soon, and all sorts of tools were strewn about in a mess. More importantly, the stench of blood wouldn't dissipate so quickly, the refrigerator was broken and not yet replaced, and there was nowhere to put the freezer brought from the estate. It would take far too much time to tidy up this chaos.

But one of the reasons Shiller had chosen this house in the first place was the large lawn and the lake at the back. Although these areas were public green space, due to their location, they were practically his private property.

So why not have a garden party?

When Shiller was disposing of a body, he found a pretty nice patch of greenery by the lake, not far from the forest, very flat, and with dappled shadows cast by the sun through the forest—quite beautiful at noon, perfect for picnicking and camping.

He had also observed the little lake's water and found it to be full of fish. He had seen several neighbors fishing downstream with good catches.

America and Canada are a paradise for lure fishing, with abundant water bodies and most fish species can be caught using lures, making almost every season good for catching fine fish. Therefore, America could be said to have the highest proportion of fishing enthusiasts.

Shiller wasn't much of a fisherman; his previous few attempts at sea fishing ended in painful defeat, but he believed it was due to a curse from Atlanna. Now, without Atlanna and being on good terms with Arthur, and fishing in the lake this time, he refused to believe he couldn't catch fish.

The problem was that he didn't know how to lure fish, but he had observed a neighbor who would fish on a large rock on the downstream shore every Wednesday; perhaps he could go and ask for advice.

Anyway, he had sent invitations to almost every neighbor. It would be fine to start the conversation with this topic, and he might even get some advice on camping parties and the like.

Of course, as long as they didn't find out what the fish ate last night.

Martin led Shiller to a fishing gear shop, where the enthusiastic owner introduced them to various types of lure fishing rods and baits and suggested that Shiller make his own baits, while also teaching him how to do so.

The materials used for the artificial bait were varied, but mostly soft materials that mimicked the movement of small fish, such as various types of feathers, fur, and plastic products that could mimic rich colors.

However, the fishing gear shop owner was still puzzled as to why Shiller wanted to buy so much fishing line all at once, but after Martin's explanation, the owner didn't ask further.

Martin then took Shiller, after several twists and turns, to the basement of a tavern near the second-hand market; evidently, he had arranged to meet someone here.

The place was a mixed bag, basically no one recognized Shiller, and when he went down, he and Martin found a place to sit and discovered it wasn't as smoky or as reeking of alcohol as he had imagined.

"I know you definitely can't stand those chaotic bars, and frankly, neither do I. I can bear the smell of alcohol and leaves, but some people always vomit on the floor, and nobody can stand the smell of vomit," said Martin, motioning toward the entrance with his mouth: "This is a rather quiet bar that I frequent. Suitable for business talks."

Shiller turned to see a group of people, also of Mexican descent, coming over and bumping fists with Martin, introducing themselves to each other.

"You said you have a big deal." The man who spoke, wearing a headscarf, had a heavier Spanish accent. He stated, "Just to be clear, we only accept quality merchandise."

"Of course, the last thing I lack is quality merchandise."

"Why should we believe you?"

"I am a surgeon."

The men exchanged glances, but their dissatisfaction remained. One said, "We have professional doctors here too, buddy. Doctors are the cheapest, we need you to explain the source of your merchandise."

"I am a serial killer."

The others were taken aback.

"I moved to a new community with too many people I dislike," Shiller explained. "I plan to take care of all of them, but I think they can also provide more value to me."

The potential buyers, who seemed never to have come across such a blunt seller, hesitated before looking at Martin. Martin nodded and said, "I can vouch that his supply is abundant, but you have to provide the professional equipment and come for the goods promptly. As for the price..."

"Price is negotiable," interjected the Mexican, smirking. "We supply high-end clients, no middlemen to make a markup."

He took out a piece of paper, wrote a number on it, and passed it to Shiller. At a glance, Shiller raised his eyebrows and remarked, "Business is that good lately?"

"Many suppliers have stopped; supply has been short recently," lamented the other. "If your quality is good, we can pay more, but it has to be fast."

"That's fine; we have a deal. First, deliver the preservation equipment to my place, here's the address. You can come for the goods tonight."

"That soon? Are you sure it's fresh?"

"I told you, I'm a surgeon. I understand organ transplantation better than you do."

Seeing his confidence, the others, though still somewhat skeptical, didn't protest considering Martin's recommendation.

"You have quite the reputation, Shiller," he remarked. "It seems you're naturally cut out for intelligence work."

Martin made a face as soured as bitter gourd and replied, "But I don't enjoy this work, I just do it to survive."

"Then up next is something you'll enjoy," Shiller said.

"What is it?"

"You'll see soon enough."

On the way back, Martin drove while Shiller was busy texting. By the time they reached home, Jonathan and Valentine were already waiting outside for them.

"What's this big deal?" Jonathan rubbed his hands together: "Are you sure it's as good as you say?"

Shiller opened the door, allowing the two of them to enter and said, "You'll know in a bit, just come in first."

Shiller led them to the backyard, where a strange device was set up. Shiller placed the two mechanically structured objects that were found inside Clay yesterday into the device.

Soon the device displayed a series of strange readings, and Jonathan looked at the device and asked, "What is this? It looks like some sort of wave frequency detector."

"It is," Shiller nodded and said, "I borrowed it from a friend in another cosmos... Alright, it's indeed foolproof to operate."

"You can actually tolerate someone calling you a fool?" Jonathan picked up on the key point.

"As long as it works," Shiller said, "this is key to our big business. Or are you saying you actually don't lack money?"

Before Jonathan could continue being stubborn, Shiller began recounting his recent experiences, mainly about the clones.

"Oh, I see," Jonathan glanced at the machine and said, "So this thing can help you differentiate which one is a clone."

"Yes, their brainwave simulation is very good, but it still falls short of Batman's detection devices. This machine can perform a wide-area brainwave search, find the nearby clones, and display their locations."

"You're planning to kill these clones?" Valentine asked, "But what's the point? These guys must be endless, right?"

"They better be endless, then our money will also be endless," Shiller now spoke of money without any awkwardness.

"Are you planning to sell them? Organs?" Valentine immediately realized Shiller's plan.

"But won't that be a bit troublesome? We have to kill them first, then harvest the organs, process them and put them into the device, and finally dispose of the bodies," Jonathan said with some difficulty, "We might as well get a job."

"There will be someone to take care of the bodies for us, and just the organs won't fetch a good price. Conventional money isn't of much use."

"You plan to..."

"Martin, come here," Shiller turned his head and called out. Martin, sitting inside the house playing games on his phone, instantly responded and came over.

"Draw a sacrifice array right here," Shiller pointed at the ground.

"Ah?"

"How did you sacrifice that poor sap to the Ancestral God that day? Didn't you draw an array?"

"Uh, yes, but who are we sacrificing now? These two?"

"Of course, the clones."

Martin's eyes widened in astonishment, "Clones are clones; how can we sacrifice them? They aren't even human; they don't have souls."

"Really no soul?" Shiller looked at the machine, the brainwave readings continuously bouncing, he said, "Why don't we try and see."

"But you can't... Isn't that equivalent to fraud? I mean, that's the Ancestral God; how can I deceive my own ancestors?"

Martin's features scrunched up again.

"Who said anything about a pay raise?"

"How much?"

"The power you get in exchange is all yours."

Martin's features instantly relaxed into a beaming smile, and he said, "Deal, well, ancestors aren't strangers anyway."

So they began to put the plan into action, and the machine just happened to show that two clones were approaching Shiller's house.

Jonathan went to the front of the house, peered out of the window, and said, "These two guys are following me; if what you said about Amanda sending them is true, they might just be here to entice me to kill them."

"More and more clones will continuously be sent to your side, provoking you endlessly, wearing you down, until a flaw arises," Shiller speculated, "They might even join them willingly just to escape this tiring life."

"That's despicable," Jonathan cursed, then he looked at Shiller with ill intent and said, "That Amanda is your student, right? Can't you teach her something good? How could you so easily reveal our weaknesses?"

"He's only cared about his own students for more than a day or two," Valentine said, "They look like they're going to knock; who's going?"

"You're misconstruing me," Shiller said, "Amanda has evolved on her own, but indeed I do feel somewhat guilty for not providing her with good guidance over the years. I've just learned some new things, now I can show her."

"Like how to sell one person multiple times," Jonathan mocked, "While we're all pursuing art, you secretly learned how to make money on your own; you two are just as low."

"This is my house," Shiller said as he knocked on the wall and continued, "Because of your rude attitude, I'm assigning the first job to you, you do it."

"Fine, I'll do it," Jonathan acquiesced.

"Don't use toxin, to avoid contaminating the organs."

"Do you really think I'm the kind of killer who can't do anything without toxin? You're seriously underestimating me," Jonathan retorted.

Shiller gestured for him to go ahead, and Jonathan rolled up his sleeves and walked toward the door.