The gunshots and deathly silence deep within the Appalachian Mountains were finally dispelled by the first rays of dawn's light.
When Lin Jie dragged his utterly exhausted body back to the stranded train, the Slick-Skin Devil pack that had surrounded the train, having lost six mbers and realizing their prey was a tough nut to crack, had already vanished into the vast sea of forest.
The engineer and boiler-man in the locomotive cab had long since suffered a ntal breakdown after experiencing intense terror throughout the entire night.
Lin Jie didn't explain much to them. Using the authority granted by Morgan, he simply sent an encrypted signal representing "Mission Complete, Requesting Support" to the nearest station via the one-way ergency telegraph.
Several hours later, a maintenance train from Pennsylvania arrived at the scene, bringing a group of I.A.R.C. field personnel who looked rugged and fierce, seemingly like "railroad workers."
They expertly cleaned up the traces at the scene, cald the two poor train crew mbers, and transferred the lead-gray cargo container that Lin Jie had re-sealed onto a sturdier, more concealed armored freight car.
The rest of the journey was smooth sailing all the way.
The train left the shadow of the mountains and entered a vast alluvial plain rich with subtropical scenery. Lin Jie knew their destination, New Orleans, was now close at hand.
The train did not pull into the passenger station in downtown New Orleans. Instead, it stopped at a sprawling private cotton transshipnt warehouse district located along the Mississippi River.
This was one of the most important cotton export ports in the Arican South. The air was thick with the sweat and songs of black laborers.
Countless massive warehouses lined the muddy riverbank.
As Lin Jie stepped down from the special carriage, two sturdy, dark-skinned n wearing ordinary work pants imdiately approached him. They looked like local dockworkers.
After exchanging a simple code phrase with Lin Jie, they bowed to him silently and respectfully, then led him through mountains of stacked cotton bales into an inconspicuous Warehouse No. 7.
The interior of the warehouse was a different world.
It was a perfectly camouflaged secret base, specifically used for cargo handovers and personnel transfers.
"Mr. Lin, welco to New Orleans."
A magnetic female voice with a lazy French Creole accent ca from the office on the warehouse's second floor.
"The Baroness is already waiting for you."
Lin Jie followed the creaking wooden stairs up to the second floor.
Pushing open the office door, a rich fragrance assailed his senses—a blend of expensive Cuban cigars, aged bourbon whiskey, and so unknown tropical flower.
The office's decor was uniquely styled.
The walls were covered in patterned wallpaper with a French colonial flair, and the floor was laid with a handmade Persian carpet.
So oddly shaped ornants, strung together from feathers, animal bones, and colored beads, were placed in the corners of the room.
And seated behind the desk was a... lady.
A Creole woman around thirty-five or thirty-six years old, with an elegant and maturely charming deanor.
She had long, jet-black, slightly curly hair the color of ebony, and skin a healthy wheat tone from the southern sun.
Her deep, bourbon-brown eyes sparkled with worldly wisdom and a hint of the laziness and playfulness belonging to one in a superior position.
She wore a low-cut purple silk gown. A slender lady's cigar, trailing a wisp of smoke, was held between her delicate fingers.
She perfectly blended the elegance of French nobility, the mystery of African descent, and the unique passionate exuberance of the Arican South, forming a dangerously charismatic and distinctive aura.
She was the head of the I.A.R.C. New Orleans branch. In the chaotic inner world of the South, she was respectfully addressed by all factions as "the Baroness"... Isabella Dubois.
"Please sit, Mr. Lin." Isabella smiled, gesturing towards the comfortable armchair covered in crocodile leather in front of the desk. "You must be tired after the long journey."
Lin Jie sat down calmly, his gaze discreetly appraising the woman before him known as the "Creole Queen."
He could clearly sense that beneath this woman's seemingly lazy exterior hid a formidable presence. "This woman's strength... is probably not inferior to Hawk's."
"Care for sothing to drink?" Isabella retrieved a bottle of aged rye whiskey and a beautiful old-fashioned glass from a cabinet under the desk. "Try a specialty of our Louisiana, a Sazerac. I mixed it myself."
She expertly rinsed the glass with absinthe, then added whiskey, syrup, and a few dashes of Peychaud's bitters, finally wiping the rim with a twist of lemon peel.
The entire sequence was fluid and a pleasure to watch.
She pushed the amber-colored cocktail, exuding a rich aroma of herbs and citrus, towards Lin Jie.
"I've heard you Easterners aren't accustod to such strong drinks," she said, parting her crimson lips and slowly exhaling a perfect smoke ring. "But I suspect you are an exception."
"I would not dare refuse such hospitality." Lin Jie picked up the glass and took a small sip.
An intense, complex burst of flavor exploded on his palate. The fiery liquid slid down his throat, bringing a wave of warmth that chased away his fatigue.
"Excellent drink," he praised sincerely.
"You're also quite the hunter." A fox-like, cunning smile appeared on Isabella's face. "That old fellow Morgan has really... struck gold this ti."
Her words carried an implied aning.
Lin Jie did not respond, rely watching her quietly, waiting for her to continue.
"Alright, alright." Isabella seed to enjoy this intellectual sparring. She gently tapped her cigar into a crystal ashtray. "Since you have successfully delivered this 'gift' into my hands. Then, as the recipient, I suppose I should tell you the truth about this gift."
She slowly stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the turbid, ceaselessly flowing Mississippi River.
"We are all well aware that the Spiritual Inertia Cargo Container couldn't hold that little thing inside for very long. We also knew its presence would inevitably attract its... currently crazed 'mother'." Isabella turned around, leaning against the windowsill, her beautiful eyes looking at Lin Jie with keen interest.
"What we truly wanted to see was how far you could go when completely isolated, with no backup, facing an unknown UMA whose strength far exceeded its file rating."
"Would you, like the previous test subjects, die cowering in fear inside the carriage, ultimately being dragged along with the cargo into the dark forest to beco a al?"
"Or would you..." The corner of her mouth curled into an appreciative arc. "...do as you did, not only successfully surviving, but even turning that rail-ghost into your own trophy?"
"It proves Morgan's eye is even sharper than I imagined." She sighed. "You not only passed the test, but even... exceeded expectations."
"So, that cargo..." Lin Jie inquired.
"A Slick-Skin Devil pup." Isabella replied. "The only trophy from a live containnt mission our branch conducted three months ago."
"We paid for it with the lives of five excellent Investigators. And its mother, that adult female specin, has since harbored a deep-seated hatred for our I.A.R.C."
"So you used it as a test for ?" Lin Jie's tone betrayed neither anger nor joy.
"Don't look at like that, little one." Isabella giggled. "In this damned world, no resource should be wasted, isn't that right?"
"Besides, it also helped us clear a potential threat from our path. After all, we wouldn't want our promising 'rising star' to et a grueso end on so Appalachian railroad track one day for so unknown reason."
"You are good." Isabella walked back to the desk and poured herself a glass of whiskey as well. "Calm, decisive, possessing unimaginable creativity, and... ruthless enough. You are well-suited to survive in our Southern swamps."
She raised her glass in a toast to Lin Jie.
"On behalf of the New Orleans branch, I formally welco you. As a reward for successfully completing this test, I will double all the compensation for this mission."
"Furthermore, for the duration of your stay in the South, all branch resources will be... unconditionally available to you."
She extended an extrely tempting olive branch to Lin Jie.
"I am rely a passing traveler," Lin Jie replied calmly.
"On this land, all civilized people are rely travelers." Isabella's gaze grew profound. "And our I.A.R.C. is the sole lighthouse for these travelers on this dark continent."
Seeing that Lin Jie was not one to stay long, she shifted the topic, beginning to introduce him to the true "masters" of this land.
"You must be careful, Mr. Lin. New Orleans, and indeed the entire Arican South, is far more complex and primitive than you imagine. The power structures here are different from those science and electricity-worshipping upstarts on the East Coast, and also different from you Europeans with your emphasis on lineage and bloodlines. The rules here... are more chaotic, and bloodier."
"Here, three main factions maintain an extrely fragile and dangerous peace."
She extended one slender finger.
"The first faction consists of people like , descendants of the Old World who inherited ancient European esoteric traditions. We are mostly descendants of French and Spanish nobility, who have operated here for centuries."
"We have wealth and influence, and we also master the most orthodox Grotesque Armant forging techniques. We are the maintainers of order, the representatives of civilization."
She extended a second finger, a trace of gravity entering her eyes.
"The second faction is the native belief system here—Voodoo."
"They have fused ancient African beliefs, Caribbean pirate witchcraft, and Native Arican nature worship to form a unique power system centered on 'spirits' and 'the dead'."
"They are divided into the 'Red Sect' priests who worship blood and curses, and the 'White Sect' queens who worship healing and protection."
"They hide in the darkest corners at the very bottom of the city, possessing a vast and fanatical number of followers. Even I dare not provoke them lightly."
Finally, she extended a third finger, her eyes revealing genuine apprehension.
"And the most dangerous is the third faction, which we call the 'Swamp Spawn'."
"No one knows who they are, nor where they co from. They are like the will born from this vast, poison-insect and alligator-infested swamp itself."
"They worship natural deities older and bloodier than those of Voodoo, revering primal strength and slaughter. They despise all products of civilization and harbor an implacable hostility towards all outsiders like us."
"They are like this land's defense system." Isabella concluded. "Any attempt to alter its primitive ecology will incur their most ruthless and insane retaliation."
She drained the whiskey in her glass, then looked deeply at Lin Jie with those bourbon-brown eyes.
"So, I offer you a piece of advice, Mr. Lin."
"In this city, you may freely enjoy the jazz, the cuisine, and the fine drinks. But whatever you do, never wear a strange mask at night to attend a carnival... that does not belong to you."
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