The Innkeeper

Chapter 1161  Newsroom

"I need a few things," said John, who had long heard of the Infinity Emporium but never had the opportunity to use it.

"I need all of these ingredients," he said, slipping a piece of paper to Powell. "I also need a recommendation letter to Hells' Diner, and lastly, I need to teleport my friend and I to the planet Fulkrum."

Powell took the slip of paper from John and began reading it, and the more he read it, the bigger his smile became. These were all very rare ores and ingredients used in treasure manufacturing.

Alone they may not have cost a significant sum, but this entire list, when considered, was a sizable sum of money. That wasn't even including the other two requests, which were extremely large as well.

"Dear guest, your requests are not so easy. It will take a few hours before everything is ready. Would you like to wait here, or come back when everything is prepared."

"We'll wait," said Luthor, who was not interested in wasting time. Fulkrum was supposed to be a planet that was virtually inaccessible except through very special means. Teleportation could count as one of those means, only under very specific conditions. The Emporium could, of course, fulfill those conditions.

The reason why the planet was so hard to reach was natural and unique, but the thing that was truly important was why they were going there. It was the largest, most renown blackmarket in the realm.

What was the point of a black market that everyone knew about? Why go there if they can shop in the emporium to begin with? What did all of this have to do with Hells' Diner?

The answers were simple. It didn't matter if everyone knew about it if no one could stop or affect the blackmarket, which they couldn't. The things they could buy and sell there could not be sold or bought by the Emporium. Lastly, Hells' Diner had nothing to do with either of those things.

In fact, it was something they learned about incidentally. What truly mattered was that within that Diner a special kind of flame was sold which would help Luthor tremendously if he absorbed it in his body. Considering what they were about to face, it was best to strengthen themselves as much as possible. N/nêw n0vel chap/ers are published o/n n0v/e/(lb)i(n.)co/m

"What makes you think we can find information about Sanguis Pluvia there?" Luthor asked John through his spirit sense. "From what I understand, even the Henali have not been able to locate them, and they have quite a few Dao Lords on the hunt."

"It's impossible to directly find the information there," explained John in an experienced manner. "I cannot comment on what Doa Lords can or cannot do. However, I can tell you that although we won't find the information there directly, we will certainly find something that will put us on the right track to eventually find a lead to the information. You understand what I'm saying? This is called a Fetch quest.

"Besides, we have one advantage. The Henali cannot find the Sanguis Pluvia because they are taking special care to hide from the Henali. But no one is hiding from the Midnight Inn. After all, didn't you notice that even the name of the terrorist organization was so hard for them to find, but we got the name directly from the Newsroom. What they can do, we cannot do. But similarly, the things we can do, no one else can either."

While John explained his brilliant plan to Luthor, both of them remained wholly unaware that the reason the Newsroom even knew the name of the organization was because of two Rhinocentaurs.

Every day they would come in and provide two pieces of unique information about current events in the universe at large. What had originally started out as a prison sentence had actually turned out to be a remarkable reward for them.

They looked forward to the day they could escape from the Inn… until they realized that it was literal paradise, and all they had to do to stay there was provide some random information.

That was easy, since they had access to the groupchat that spread across the universe. After years of spending time in the Inn, they had changed their ways. They no longer wanted to hunt for systems - just spending more time in the Inn was enough to help them raise their cultivation.

As such, they had been trying to delay their rescue quest that they had issued, which is why their rescuer had not returned to the Inn immediately once it reopened. But while they could delay it, they could not cancel it.

Now the two spent each day thinking up plans of how to stay here longer. If their rescuer came and started a huge fight and got them into trouble, they might now be allowed back into the Inn. That was an issue they could not live with.

But so far they hadn't been able to come up with a proper answer.

While the two continued to think, it was time for their daily check in with the newsroom, and so they strolled on in peacefully, waving and joking around with the regular guests. The Inn really was an amazing place.

Finally, once they arrived, one of the Rhinocentaurs went in first and provided his latest piece of news.

"The Versalis bank has just acquired a controlling share in the Undead Private Soldiery, or UPS for short."

With that piece of information shared, he stepped out and allowed the other to step in.

"The Celestial Court has rejected the excuse of outstanding debt for a reason to attack one of its members by the Versalis bank, and issued a hearing, but the bank representative never showed. Tensions are rising."

With that the Rhinocentaur stepped out, his mind still on his own problems.

But they remained unaware that the two pieces of random information they provided were noted down, and added by an important member of the newsroom to an extremely complex and extensive information web, connecting countless various seemingly random bits and pieces of information.

Roland, the little boy who once collected news and sold newspapers in the city of Babylon, was one of the most prominent members of the Nyxheart family now. His eyes gleamed as he focused on a pin tied to a note that read: Versalis Bank.

On that pin were tried countless threads, but one of them led all the way back to the Henali.

He began to scribble something on a notebook.