Knock, knock, knock...

Outside the door, a man in a black trench coat with a slight stubble appeared. The door opened inward, and Hobart's figure came into view.

"Uncle Martin, what are you doing here?"

Martin Jabbar was a friend of Hobart's father. Hobart had not interacted with him since his father's funeral.

"Hobart Watkins, aren't you going to invite me in?" Hobart hurriedly stepped aside, his heart racing, feeling inexplicably nervous about the man before him.

As soon as Martin Jabbar entered the room, he looked directly at the conspicuous wooden box on the table. Scanning the surroundings, he asked Hobart with a teasing tone, "Do you know why I'm here?"

Hobart shook his head in confusion, seeing Martin Jabbar staring at him. With a hint of fear, he pointed to the wooden box and said, "Is it because of that?"

"Not bad, you're not so dumb," Martin Jabbar said as he stood up and touched the wooden box. "It's called the Box of Destiny, a cursed high-level forbidden item."

"What is a high-level forbidden item?" Hobart asked.

"High-level forbidden items are categorized based on their levels. They cause mental pollution and reality collapse. The higher the level, the greater the mental pollution and reality collapse."

While Hobart was still thinking, Martin Jabbar suddenly threw the Box of Destiny into Hobart's arms and said, "Take the box and come with me if you don't want to die."

Hobart hurriedly followed Martin Jabbar.

Hobart, bewildered, followed Martin Jabbar through several streets. He felt like he was in a fog, unsure of their destination, filled with doubt and a touch of unease.

Various speculations flashed through his mind, but he couldn't determine Martin Jabbar's intentions.

This uncertainty made him anxious, and it also heightened his inner sense of caution. Although he maintained a calm exterior, his inner turmoil was hard to suppress.

Hobart came to his senses and found himself standing in front of a dimly lit tavern, looking at the sign with confusion. "Rusty Tavern."

Martin Jabbar pushed the tavern door open and said to Hobart, "Come in."

Inside the tavern, Hobart saw people sitting in groups, talking and drinking, with the smell of alcohol in the air.

Suddenly, a burly, muscular man sitting on a chair asked Martin Jabbar, "Hey Martin, who's this kid?"

"Just drink your beer and don't ask questions," Martin Jabbar said, patting the man's shoulder and continuing forward with Hobart following behind him. The man's voice trailed behind, "Can I buy you a drink?" Martin Jabbar waved his hand without turning back, "Next time."

Martin Jabbar continued walking until he reached a small, inconspicuous door behind the bar counter. He pushed the door open, revealing a narrow tunnel leading downward.

The end of the tunnel was shrouded in darkness, seemingly leading to an unknown place. In the confined space, Hobart's heart began to race again. He took a deep breath and followed Martin Jabbar inside.

At a corner of the tunnel was another door. When Martin Jabbar opened it, a basement appeared before them. Hobart's pupils constricted, surprised by the hidden space beneath an ordinary tavern.

"Let me formally introduce you. This is the underground base of Blacklight, a secret imperial organization. I am the captain of the third team in Motor City, making me the top figure in this city," Martin Jabbar said proudly. "Impressive, right?"

"Yes," Hobart saw the expectant look in Martin Jabbar's eyes. Martin turned his back to Hobart and let out a suppressed laugh, filled with a mixture of unknown excitement and anticipation, occasionally escaping and being forcibly pushed back.

This laughter lingered in Hobart's ears, deepening his doubts.

Finally, Martin spoke again, "Join us!" Hobart understood why Martin Jabbar was so happy. "Actually, you have no other choice. In Blacklight, if you know of our existence but don't join, you'll be assassinated."

Hobart was still thinking, but Martin's next words dispelled his other thoughts and made him angry. "Then why did you tell me?"

"Because you're cursed. Normally, we would wait for you to die before recovering the forbidden item." Hobart frowned, his anger boiling inside but unsure where to vent it.

"What makes me special enough for you to do this?" His voice carried a hint of unease and confusion, searching for an answer.

"Because you showed your specialness last night," Martin said, his eyes filled with surprise and admiration. Hobart was shocked by how quickly they had received the information, just a few hours.

"I'll join you, but what about the curse and this box?" Hobart's tone was resigned and worried.

"It's simple, just seal it." Martin's tone was confident, his gaze firm as iron, providing a sense of reassurance. "But I sense two other forbidden items connected to this wooden box."

Hobart felt lost, but Martin's determination gave him some comfort.

"We just need to obtain the other two and seal them together." Martin continued with an unwavering tone.

Hobart's shoulders slumped slightly as he sighed. "Fine, I know where they are." He surrendered, a trace of resolve flashing in his eyes.

Seeing Hobart's reaction, Martin smiled, his smile carrying a hint of comfort and encouragement. He spread out a map of Motor City on the table.