Europe.
Northern Finland.
The Agnes Mountain Range.
Due to its higher latitude, even further north than Iceland, it already lies within the Arctic Circle. Just thirty kiloters further north is the Arctic Ocean. Winter had passed, and temperatures were rising, often reaching the teens in normal areas.
But at night,
they could still drop back near zero degrees.
Early morning.
Babbling water flowed down from the distant snow-capped peaks.
Gathering into a stream.
The temperature near the stream was also lowered by a few degrees by the icy water. Here the water was crystal clear, and occasionally fish could be seen swimming. By a rapidly flowing stream, about a dozen people were packing up tents.
There were n and won.
One group was dressed in uniforms resembling those of security guards, all males, numbering over twenty, all ard with only pistols.
The other group wore colorful, casual attire. Those with guns were warily watching these people, signaling that they were not together. This group consisted of six people, four n and two won.
"Hurry up with the packing. We must find the Duke of Myron’s treasure by tonight, or else don’t bla for being rude," a young man in a suit loudly said.
The young man had slick hair and was in his early twenties.
And he was leaning on a cane.
He was bossing the six people around, his na was Bolton, and he had loved treasure hunting since he was young. However, luck was not on his side and he preferred not to brainstorm, he liked others to pinpoint the location for him to explore.
But,
there weren’t so many simple treasures in the world for him to find, and after repeated failures, he realized it was not feasible to rely rely on hearsay; it was necessary to enlist ’reliable’ people to help.
Eventually,
he turned his attention to those ’professionals’; the treasure was of interest to many, including both part-ti and full-ti researchers, with varied capabilities.
The six present were part-ti enthusiasts, fairly capable, from Italy.
After several layers of decoding,
they discovered a clue to a duke’s treasure, then set out together following a painting in search of the treasure, unaware that Bolton had marked them as targets long before.
The reason was that during their clue-gathering session, a librarian sold the information to Bolton for three hundred Euros; upon investigating, Bolton discovered these people weren’t casually inquiring.
But were searching everywhere, obviously with so confidence.
So,
Bolton sought them out, hoping to join forces.
At first, they were uncooperative.
Bolton didn’t persist; he bid them farewell and left, but not before bribing one of them, and last night, Bolton made his move because the bought-out person sent him a ssage indicating the final clue had been pinpointed.
The treasure was in the mountains not far away.
Thinking of this,
Bolton couldn’t keep his mouth closed for joy. After taking control of the six people, he couldn’t sleep at all that night, excited about the prospect of standing on a mountain of gold and silver. Although his family was wealthy, who would ever think they had too much money?
After packing up the tents,
freēwebnovel
the group continued on their way.
There were no highways here; progress could only be made on foot. Originally, his bodyguards suggested taking a helicopter, but since treasure hunting was a delight, Bolton insisted on walking, so the security detail had to increase.
The six people were in the middle.
Five of them felt very gloomy, threatened with guns; nobody could be in a good mood.
The sixth person was calculating how much money he would get afterwards. Watching too much TV had influenced him; he felt rebelling now wasn’t the right move. So, he kept pretending to be oblivious, maintaining his place in the group for now.
The chilly morning mountain wind made them shiver.
They had no choice but to quicken their pace, but the rugged mountain road did not facilitate speed. By now, they were dozens of kiloters deep into the mountains, a place unvisited year-round except by so who ca to ski in winter.
"Stop."
Bolton suddenly said.
His n imdiately raised their guns, defending the surroundings, expecting an enemy appearance. But after looking around, they saw not even a bird, nor any dangerous animals.
"What’s wrong?" Bolton’s personal bodyguard asked in a low voice.
Bolton excitedly pointed at a place in front of them.
"Look."
Following his pointing finger.
Below a mountain.
The group saw a... a cavern, a sizable one, it seed rather far; the saying ’distance is deceiving in the view of mountains’ rang true as they might not reach the cavern until the afternoon.
"Could it be the scene from the Duke’s painting, look, the adjacent mountains are identical, definitely is, haha, we’ve finally found it, co on, let’s go fast," Bolton exclaid and rushed out.
But after a few steps.
"Ah..."
Bolton slipped and knelt down, becoming an injured person.
...
By evening,
they had finally reached the cavern.
Bolton was being carried by a bodyguard, his injury also slowed the entire group’s pace. The bodyguards suggested calling a helicopter once again, but Bolton refused.
He wanted to experience treasure hunting while wounded.
About that,
the bodyguards were helpless.
They were not interested in indulging such whims; they only thought about getting to the destination. Since Bolton refused the helicopter, they had to keep walking. Well, they were paid to do a job, what more was there to say?
"Haha, we’ve finally made it, oh, haha..." Bolton had the bodyguard put him down; his knee was only lightly injured, but walking was still painful, yet at that mont, he couldn’t care less.
Leaning on his cane,
he headed toward the cave.
"Young master, be careful, there might be dangers," the bodyguard quickly blocked the front.
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