The detective is dead, I did it.

Chapter 59 A jumble of random characters

Li Ang took one last look in that direction at the corner of the narrow street.

The girl's skirt and pale blue ribbon had completely disappeared, like a drop of water falling into the Thames, silently and without a trace.

He didn't chase after her, nor did he ask her name.

Since it's just a chance encounter, it's better to have the hope of meeting again next time and wish for something even better.

He turned and continued walking east.

After passing a few streets, the houses began to get shorter, and the smell in the air changed from the aroma of bread to a bitter smell of coal ash and river water mixed together, with a hint of decay.

This is the unique smell of the slums, the kind of smell that even nobles would cover their noses when they came.

For Li Ang, this aura was surprisingly familiar.

Even though he had been living in Charlotte's mansion for many days and had grown accustomed to the clean, lavender-scented air there, he still couldn't forget everything about it.

The stone slab path on the ground turned into a gravel path, and then into a bumpy mud path.

An old man wearing a patched coat squatted on the doorstep smoking a pipe. He looked up at Li Ang, and his cloudy eyes suddenly turned somewhat surprised.

They seemed to recognize Li Ang, but they didn't expect the kid to be dressed so well now, looking all respectable. They wondered where he had made his fortune.

Li Ang did not pay attention to this.

He had lived in this area for over a decade and knew that the people here wouldn't make eye contact with strangers or greet them casually.

After all, in this place where even survival is a struggle, glancing at someone more than once could lead to more trouble.

Li Ang stopped in front of a wooden door with peeling paint.

This is Mrs. Martha's home.

Mrs. Martha was one of the few kind people on the street. When Ktura was a child, she was very sick. Once, she had a high fever in the middle of the night, and Mrs. Martha helped her call a doctor overnight and even paid part of the doctor's fee.

Li Ang always kept this kindness in his heart.

After all, her own life wasn't easy either. Her husband died in the mine, and she had to raise three children on her own, the oldest of whom was only thirteen.

But he never heard her complain once.

He knocked on the door. There was a rustling sound inside, and then the door opened a crack, revealing Mrs. Martha's face.

Her hair had turned a little whiter, and the wrinkles on her face had deepened, but her gray-green eyes lit up the moment she saw Li Ang.

"Li Ang? You...you're back?"

She opened the door and looked him up and down, her gaze sweeping over his clean clothes, neat hair, and face, which was much rosier than when she left.

"My goodness, you look so much more handsome. How about Ktura? Is she alright?"

"We're all fine," Li Ang said as he handed over the package.

A thick blanket, two jars of cured beef, a bag of white flour, and some candy and biscuits.

"I brought you some things."

Mrs. Martha's eyes welled up with tears when she saw the contents of the package. "My child... keep this for yourself... you've had a hard time out there..."

"This is enough for me." Li Ang shoved the package into her hands. "Take it."

Mrs. Martha, clutching the package, didn't continue with the pleasantries. She simply wiped her eyes with her apron and said in a hoarse voice, "Come in and sit down? Have a cup of tea?"

"Maybe next time. There are still a few places to visit."

Li Ang turned and walked away. Behind him came Mrs. Martha's nagging voice: "That child has really made something of himself..."

He went from house to house.

He gave a set of protective gear to Old Tom the blacksmith. Old Tom had invited him to work as a blacksmith years ago, but after two days he realized he wasn't good enough and had to decline.

However, Old Tom still paid himself for those two days' wages.

Even if we didn't give it to them, no one would say anything.

I delivered some food to Jenny, the widow next door. Her son was only five years old and as thin as a monkey.

Before Ketura learned to sew, when their clothes were torn, they would ask each other to mend them.

He also gave Old George, the dock foreman, a bottle of whiskey. Although that guy had a foul mouth, he was the one who taught Li Ang how to use his waist to generate power and how not to let the rope dig into his shoulders when Li Ang first went to the dock to carry bags.

When old George took the bottle, he muttered, "You've got a conscience, kid," and then closed the door.

Li Ang stood in front of the closed door and smiled.

He didn't give money to these kind people because he knew that would only harm them.

Finally, he stood before Old Jack's iron gate.

The door was already closed, but Li Ang knew that Old Jack was inside, so he knocked three times, and soon the small window on the iron door was opened.

"Come in."

Old Jack recognized Li Ang and opened the door, gesturing for him to come in.

When Li Ang went inside, he saw old Jack lying in a rocking chair with a blanket of indeterminate color covering his knees, his thin fingers resting on the armrest.

The bottles and jars on the iron shelf had been moved to some different positions, but they were still mostly the same; nothing had changed.

Li Ang sat down on the wooden crate opposite the rocking chair, looked at Old Jack, and subconsciously activated his ability.

Small silver characters appeared above Old Jack's body, then seemed to be shattered by something, turning into unrecognizable gibberish.

In the end, only one line remained.

[Unrecognized.]

Li Ang never expected to encounter this situation.

Even when he met Vice President Lina, his abilities allowed him to discern some of her information, but now, facing Old Jack, it all turned into a jumbled mess.

As expected! I knew you were no ordinary person, old Jack.

Li Ang didn't stare at the jumbled code for too long, quickly averting his gaze and trying his best to keep his expression unchanged.

"You've really gotten to it, kid," old Jack's voice came from the rocking chair. "Your eyes are different now. Before, you looked at people flat, now they're hooked."

Li Ang didn't reply. He took a banknote out of his pocket and placed it on the low table in front of Old Jack.

The banknotes gleamed with an oily sheen under the dim light, and the profile of the Queen printed on them looked even more haughty than usual.

Ten pounds. This is a banknote that most people in this slum have never seen in their lives.

It's enough for a family of four to eat black bread for more than half a year, enough to pay two years' rent, and enough to buy a life.

"I'm here to keep my promise," Li Ang said. "I'm going to buy all this junk of yours."

Old Jack glanced down at the banknote, but made no move to take it; his lips merely twitched slightly.

"not enough."

"Not enough?" Li Ang pointed to the rusty gears and broken-down things on the wall. "Even if you threw this pile of junk at the garbage dump, no one would want it."

"That's because you're blind." Old Jack's tone was indifferent, even tinged with a hint of disdain.