The days of being a spiritual mentor in Meiman.

Chapter 2566: Xiao Xiao Down (Fifty)
Martin is a skinny dark-skinned young man with thick black hair but almost no eyebrows. His brows are curved, and he has big eyes and long eyelashes, which are common among Latinos.

As soon as Schiller walked over, he immediately stood up from his chair, gave him a warm smile, and asked him to look at the so-called Mexican souvenirs he brought from his hometown.

What surprised Schiller was that Martin did not have the slightly tired look of the lower class people in Gotham, nor did he have the vigilant look ingrained in his bones. His eyes were simply clear and his smile was hearty and enthusiastic.

No wonder he was able to get along so well, Schiller thought, but he also felt that this man was probably not a simple person. If he didn't have some special abilities, he wouldn't have been able to do so well at the bottom of Gotham.

Schiller opened his spiritual vision and found that all the things on this stall that he called ancestral relics were useless small commodities. Only the crystal ball that he had held in his hand when he was reading the newspaper contained magic power.

Although Schiller saw it, he didn't say much. There were many weirdos in the city of Gotham, and one more would not make a difference.

Schiller smiled and started chatting with him. It was obvious that Martin followed the rule that every low-level Gotham person would follow, which was not to mess with those who looked gentle.

Schiller wore a gray tweed trench coat and a plaid scarf. Since he was not wearing formal clothes, he did not use hairspray on his hair. He simply combed his hair, which became brown-gray in the morning sun and was slightly curled, looking very fluffy.

Apart from the glasses he wears, the temperament revealed in his every move also shows that he is not a manual laborer, but a clerk who sits in an office all year round. Judging from his age, he may be an expert professor or something.

But ordinary experts and professors will not come here to buy things. Class segregation in the United States is very serious. People move around in their own class. People from elite middle-class communities will not come here to buy things, and people from lower-class communities will not go to middle-class supermarkets.

Then the purpose of his appearance here is very intriguing. According to Martin's experience, those sanctimonious and gentle upper-class people come here to select victims.

Killing a poor person is much easier than killing a rich person. Most poor people go out and walk to most places. No matter how many dangerous communities they have to pass through, there are not so many surveillance cameras where they walk, and some places are even in the wilderness.

The poor do not have such a dense social network. Even if they do, they will not maintain it all the time. Everyone is not particularly clear about each other's movements and does not have the energy to care.

If someone suddenly disappears, and his importance to everyone comes from emotion rather than interests, it will be difficult to put much pressure on the police, and it will naturally be difficult to solve the case.

"...I'm afraid I have to ask, sir, what are you doing here? Perhaps I can introduce you to the composition of the shops here." Martin was still as enthusiastic as ever. Although he remained far more cautious than before, his expression did not reveal any of it.

"I wanted to buy some garden soil. My housekeeper is on a business trip. And I haven't been to the market for a long time. It's quite lively here." Schiller turned his head and looked into the distance. The sunlight made him squint his eyes.

"Oh, yes." Martin smiled and said, "It's quite big. If you want to buy gardening supplies, you have to go to Area J, which is about the same distance from here, diagonally. If your car is parked in the parking lot next to it, you can drive there and just go around it from this road."

Martin showed Schiller the way, hoping that this troublesome person would leave quickly, but Schiller's eyes fell on the crystal ball he had placed on the chair and said, "Is that for sale?"

Martin looked back and saw the crystal ball. He shook his head and said, "No, sir, I won't sell it. It's my mother's legacy."

Schiller stared at him.

"Okay, I won't hide it from you." Seeing that he was exposed, Martin smiled and said, "This is not a blessing item. It contains cursed power and will bring bad luck to ordinary people. I can't sell it to you."

"I haven't had very good luck lately."

"Then I can introduce you to a lucky statue." Martin began to talk endlessly about the small commodities behind him.

Schiller actually took a fancy to a small statue in the style of Aztec civilization. It was made of dark wood with hand-drawn gold lines on it. It was completely different from the assembly line products produced in factories.

"How much is that?" Schiller pointed to the statue he liked.

"My God, you have such a good eye. I really brought this from my local area." Martin quickly took down the small statue and said.

"Where is your hometown?"

"Hometown? Mexico, of course."

"I know, are you from the South or the North? Or are you from Guadalajara?"

Martin was really stunned. He said, "You can actually distinguish the several states of Mexico. This is really rare. Most Americans think that the United States occupies the entire Americas. Whether it is Canada or Mexico, they are just small islands in the ocean."

Schiller laughed and said, "I'm not that ignorant. I have some friends working in Guazhou. If you can tell me the name of your village, maybe I've heard of it."

Martin hesitated for a moment, but still said a Spanish word. Schiller thought it sounded familiar. He said, "Is it on the west side of the Vlad Mountains? There is a village near Fernando. There is a large field to the south of the village. It used to be a poppy plantation."

"Oh my God, you really have been to my hometown, God." Martin said a series of Spanish in a rapid tone.

Schiller, who spoke almost no Spanish but understood some of the words, said, "They don't grow poppies there anymore, do they? I heard they've switched to growing spring wheat."

Now Martin was completely stunned.

He opened his mouth, squeezed the statue in his hand hard, and looked Schiller up and down again.

In fact, Schiller just took the opportunity to chat with him. After all, he couldn't ask him to provide information right away like he was meeting a spy. This was not the way ordinary people socialized.

But it seems that Martin has misunderstood a little, but maybe he hasn't.

Martin immediately restrained his expression, put on a smiling face and said, "You are really well-informed, sir. To be honest, it is because the situation in my hometown has improved that I don't have to stay at home to take care of my disabled mother and my brother who is always too busy with farm work that I can come to America to try my luck."

"When did you come? In the last few years?"

"About two years ago, it was just around the time of the first wave of promotion for the music festival. I made a lot of money from this opportunity."

Martin glanced around inconspicuously, then said, "Sir, if you like this statue, I can give you a discount. In addition, we also provide door-to-door delivery service. You can give me an address and I will deliver it to you tonight."

Schiller immediately realized what he was hinting at, so he took out the business card from his pocket. Martin saw Schiller's first and last name, especially the last name, Rodriguez, which is a common Spanish last name.

"There's one more thing I want to ask you." Schiller said, "I heard at the newsstand over there that you're very popular among the Mexicans here, and I want to ask you about someone."

When Martin heard about the newsstand, he understood. He rolled his eyes and said, "I'm so young, how good can I be? I haven't been here long, I've just established myself. But I know everyone here. Who are you looking for?"

"I don't have a specific name, but I know he has a tattoo on his back." Schiller took out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Martin.

Martin took it and was not too surprised. Many people here rely on tattoos or appearance to find people. This is a custom left over from the gangster era. Gangs in each area have different tattoo characteristics, and you can basically tell where a person comes from by looking at the tattoos.

But the moment he saw the pattern, Martin's pupils suddenly shrank.

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't think this is a local tattoo. I've never seen such a gang tattoo before. How about this? I'll ask for you this afternoon. If I have any news, I'll tell you when I deliver the goods in the evening."

Schiller nodded. Knowing that he might not want to say it here, he said, "Thank you very much. How much is the statue?"

"Don't be in a hurry." Martin wrapped up the statue quickly, then took a big step to the recliner where he had just been, and wrapped up the crystal ball that Schiller had just picked out and placed under the newspaper.

He put the slightly larger wood carving in a box and put it in the back, but put the crystal ball in a handbag and handed it to Schiller, saying, "If you really like it, of course I can sell it to you, but it's best not to open the package easily and just put it in a corner of the room."

This aroused Schiller's interest. He smiled playfully and said, "Isn't it said that this will bring bad luck? Do you want to curse me?"

"That's not the way to look at it, sir." Martin said slickly, "The energy in each divine object changes with the energy of the person. In different auras, it will present different appearances. Some things may bring bad luck to a person, but some may bring him good luck."

"Do you think the aura of this crystal ball matches mine?"

"Of course, you are its unique owner. However, sometimes energies can affect each other, so it's best not to open its package. Just wait quietly for the luck it brings you."

Schiller picked up the bag without saying anything, paid the bill, turned around and left, heading towards the road Martin had just pointed out.

Martin stared at his back, the smile on his face gradually disappeared. He walked back to the recliner and picked up the newspaper he had just read. It was all in Spanish, and the headline on the front page read in large letters: "The rebels in Guadalajara State are retreating step by step. The domestic situation is stabilizing and steadily improving."

Martin's expression darkened.