Red Dead Redemption: The Great Philanthropist of the West

"Hey buddy! I heard the drinks here are really popular, give me a couple."

While Henry was still drinking with Arthur and the others, a drunken voice came from the doorway.

An old man, walking with a limp, pushed open the tavern's butterfly spring door and led a fat man inside. The old man looked completely drunk, clearly having already consumed a lot of alcohol elsewhere.

When the bartender poured two glasses of sherry and placed them in front of him, the old man had already passed out on the bar counter. His helpless henchman was left speechless, muttering under his breath.

"He passed out, he passed out again. My God, can't you just tell me about your experiences? Don't just keep drinking. How am I supposed to write this biography if you don't say anything? Can you accept me making up nonsense in my biography?"

"Do you think another glass of good wine might wake him up?"

The fat man had no choice but to ask the bartender.

“Mr. Levin, perhaps we can talk.”

Henry recognized the two men and got up to walk over, saying something. There was no way around it; in his previous life, he had died several times trying to obtain those special weapons, causing his ruthless cousin, the "Living Yama," to lose face. It was impossible for him not to remember them.

It was unexpected that Jim Caloway, instead of enjoying a drink at his cousin's Keans bar, would run into his own Allen bar. Since they'd run into each other, they decided to go up and chat, as Henry happened to have something he wanted to get from them.

“Sir, do you know his story, the story of Jim Callaway? Tell me about it.”

Levin seemed to be quite tormented by Callaway, asking everyone he met about his story, not caring how Henry knew his own name.

“I do know some of his story, but as far as I know, although his marksmanship is indeed excellent, his character is not good. Fame does not represent the truth. If you want to continue writing about him, I advise you not to pursue the truth too much.”

Henry had the bartender pour Levin another glass of good wine and push it in front of him.

“I didn’t come here to talk to you about Caloway. I own a weekly magazine called ‘Western Weekly’. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.”

"Is it the Western Weekly that was just released in Saint Denis? Of course I know it, I know it all too well. I love its narrative style and the content is very interesting. Although it has only been released for a short time, it is very popular. I had to ask a friend to buy me a copy."

As he spoke, he took out a carefully packaged magazine from his bag and showed it to Henry. However, he didn't really believe Henry's words; he was just chatting with Henry casually to see if he could get any useful information out of him, since he had nothing better to do anyway.

"I wonder what this gentleman would like to talk to me about?"

"As I just said, I have a weekly magazine, and I need excellent writers to submit their work. Perhaps Mr. Levin could come and work for me and submit serialized novels or stories to my weekly magazine. I am very optimistic about your ideas."

I also have a sharpshooter friend who's crossed paths with Karl Calvert-Walter. He's a decent guy, so maybe you could interview him and write a biography of him. That would be better than you writing about this undeserving "little devil." What do you think?

Henry planned to send him to Blackwater to write a biography of Grant, which would not only attract readers to the weekly magazine but also promote Grant's reputation and prepare him for taking over the Blackwater police department in the future.

"Are you serious about saying you own the Western Weekly? You're not joking? And you really invited me to come over?"

Theodore Levin was a little excited. It seemed that what the handsome young man in front of him said was true. If he really was the owner of "Western Weekly", then wouldn't he be free? He had long since stopped suffering with the drunken Calaway.

"To be precise, it was co-founded by me and Congressman Fellos of Saint Denis. I'll give you an address; you can find the person there yourself. I have no reason to lie to you, do I?"

Henry asked the bartender for paper and pen and wrote down Trelawney's contact information for him.

Hearing Henry say this, Levin was also very happy. He didn't expect to encounter such a good thing while drinking at a different bar with Callaway. He quickly took the note and thanked Henry.

"May I ask your name, sir? And who is this sharpshooter friend you mentioned? Where can I find him?"

Levin put down his glass and spoke to Henry, this time not as casually as before, his attitude much more respectful, after all, Henry was about to become his future boss.

“My name is Henry Allen, and the sharpshooter friend I’m talking about is Slim Grant, the famous figure in the Cigarette Card Black and White series. He’s currently the sheriff in Blackwater, West Elizabeth. You can easily find out about him once you get there. You might even run into Langdon Ricketts, the even more legendary sharpshooter, who’s currently recovering from injuries in Blackwater.”

The information that Langdon Ricketts was recuperating in Blackwater was recently passed on to Henry by the intelligence department there. Since being ambushed and injured by Micah during the Blackwater heist, he had severed his cooperation with Pinkerton and had been recuperating in Blackwater. Before Paul was summoned to Valentine by Henry, he had contacted him, trying to recruit Langdon to Henry's ranks, but Langdon had not yet agreed.

"That's great, boss, I'll go find them right away."

Levin was a little excited, and he even called him "boss" right away. He couldn't wait to leave, as he wanted to finish his masterpiece as soon as possible and make a name for himself throughout the West.

"Wait, Mr. Levin, do you have some information on legendary gunslingers? Would you mind letting me take a look? I'm also interested in them and would like to learn more about them."

Seeing Levin's anxious look, Henry quickly stopped him. He hadn't gotten his things yet; how could he let him leave? He still needed Levin's information to find out who the woman in black and Billy Middlenight were. After all, this was the real world; who knew if they were still in the same place?

"Boss, is this what you mean? This is information I got from a black market dealer. It's no longer of any use to me, so you can have it all."

He then took out four photos and a piece of paper with corresponding information from his backpack and handed them to Henry.

Henry picked up the paper, glanced through the information, and saw that it detailed the locations, activity patterns, names, and physical descriptions of the four legendary gunmen who had recently appeared. Satisfied, he waved his hand, signaling Levin that he could leave.

He returned to Hosea, who was whispering with Arthur about their hunting plans.

"Hosea, perhaps your hunting plans can be put on hold for a while. I need Arthur and me to visit some old friends. Is that alright?"

“No problem, Henry. If you need anything, just have Arthur accompany you. I can find Charles and me to go and scout for animal tracks first. When it comes to hunting, it’s obvious that Charles is more reliable than this simple-minded fellow.”

Hosea didn't ask who Henry was visiting who needed Arthur's help, nor did he ask Arthur's opinion; he simply agreed. This left Arthur, who hadn't even had a chance to speak, already labeled as simple-minded.