Or rather, they’ve changed their target.

From the fat sheep at the beginning, to each other.

This isn’t surprising.

In the ‘Nightless City,’ hunters are often prey.

Behind the door, Jason listened to the commotion on the street, a faint smile curling beneath the mask.

Clearly, the seemingly ‘Postman’ trader is adaptive and resourceful.

But that’s to be expected.

If they lacked such adaptability, they wouldn’t have become the liaison.

“Without the ‘map,’ the plan is temporarily stalled. That ‘big shot’ and their ‘collaborator’ will undoubtedly warn me, their temporary pawn, but not excessively–because I now align perfectly with the tradition of the ‘Nightless City,’ and I’ve already had contact with that trader. If they swap me rashly, it might expose flaws.”

Jason sat back on the crate, a flicker of anticipation in his heart.

At the moment, he not only needed to buy himself more time but also understand the ‘big shot’ and their ‘collaborator’ better, in order to prepare for the next move.

And the ‘warning method’ from the ‘big shot’ or the ‘collaborator’ was a breakthrough point.

According to Jason’s predictions, these two… or more precisely the latter, would issue a severe punishment, showcasing an irresistible strength to make him obey.

Most people in the ‘Nightless City’ operate this way.

They wouldn’t be any exception.

So, the most likely move would be sending a reliable subordinate.

After all, threats delivered from afar would lack weight.

As Jason pondered, he pulled out two cans of meat.

The alcohol stove in the corner quickly ignited with a faint blue flame, and bottled water poured into the pot began to boil rapidly. He emptied the cans into the pot, and the meat juices blended seamlessly with the water, while the chunks of meat rolled and released wafts of tantalizing aroma.

“Too bad there are no potatoes.”

“If there were, I could add them in, stew them until tender.”

“Then, serve them over a bowl of rice.”

“Pour the potato and meat broth over it… Ahh.”

Jason held the pot, sipping the meat broth and thinking.

Occasionally, he smacked his lips exaggeratedly.

He was doing it on purpose.

He knew, with those web-like ‘threads’ around, his every move was visible to the ‘big shot’s collaborator.’

He needed to project an aura of ‘at the end of my rope, so I’ll gamble it all.’

And before risking it all, consuming his precious resources for a brief indulgence–wasn’t that perfectly reasonable?

Most residents of the ‘Nightless City,’ struggling just to survive, were like this.

Jason had seen too many of them.

Picking it up was naturally a flawless performance.

‘Eat and drink your fill,’ Jason wrapped himself in a blanket and leaned against the crate to rest.

He closed his eyes, appearing to have fallen asleep.

But Jason distinctly heard movement from the second floor leading to the third floor–he had previously used wooden boards and furniture debris from the room to barricade this area.

Now, someone was slowly moving these obstructions away bit by bit.

Their actions were light.

To some extent, almost silent.

For ordinary people, detecting such movements would be nearly impossible.

But Jason heard it all clearly.

He could even deduce the general posture of the person from the sounds.

Jason felt a rare flicker of delight.

Not just satisfaction with his own strength at the moment, but delight towards this visitor.

It was evident that the ‘big shot’s collaborator’ hadn’t detected his change and was still treating him like a mere ordinary ‘Postman.’

This couldn’t be better!

As long as this judgment held steady.

Jason could deliver a surprise to them.

And to ensure they maintained this judgment, his performance now mattered greatly.

Five minutes later, the barricade between the second and third floor had been cleared just enough for a single person to pass.

In the next moment, a figure slipped into 19 Ter Street.

That figure stood nimbly on the original first-floor beam, gazing down at Jason.

Upon confirming Jason wasn’t reacting at all, the figure sneered and leapt downward.

But they didn’t pounce directly on Jason.

Instead, they circled the basement — the space Jason was in — before finally approaching Jason. However, upon spotting the alcohol stove and the empty cans on the ground, their footsteps noticeably paused.

Then, their breath carried a more palpable malice.

“It seems that the web-like ‘threads’ can’t truly monitor the interior of 19 Ter Street — likely a vague perception, able to hear things clearly but not see. Thus, they had to inspect the room’s interior.”

“And regarding the cans of meat… it’s obvious that such items are precious even to them.”

“That ‘big shot’s collaborator’ doesn’t appear very wealthy.”

Jason, still with closed eyes, analyzed each of their movements through sound, meticulously breaking them down.

After all, his employer, the ‘Old Man,’ ate canned meat almost daily, smoked cigars, and occasionally had some wine.

Was this ‘big shot’s collaborator’ worse off than the ‘Old Man’?

Impossible!

Jason immediately shook his head internally.

Judging by the gravity of the ‘Old Man’s’ demeanor when he departed, coupled with the current setup, the ‘big shot’ was undoubtedly someone truly influential!

And the ‘collaborator’ of someone influential couldn’t possibly be inferior!