Chapter 685: Exiled River Shrimp

At this moment, Glover was crouching together with Zimikas. They carefully hid behind two wooden crates to avoid being dragged into the slaughter and becoming one of the corpses on the ground.

What the hell was that damned mute doing?

Glover angrily stared at Ralf, who stood in the middle of the venue, surrounded by fighters, yet still high-spirited as he faced off against the Red Viper and the Wanderer.

Yes, those tricks had been flashy. He took down a few small fry and struck a few poses, but...

Could that mute not see that this warehouse was full of the Blood Bottle Gang's elite fighters, three layers inside and three layers outside? Even if he knocked down ten more people, it would be useless. There was no chance of victory at all.

Not to mention, the most troublesome threat...

Glover shifted his gaze and looked warily toward the black-clothed killer, whom even the full strength of the Star Lake Guard had failed to capture. The latter was standing motionless in the shadows at the other end of the warehouse, watching the situation.

Damn it.

Glover punched the crate hard.

When would that black-clothed man act?

When the battle was at its fiercest? When the mute had been exhausted by everyone else? Or when both sides had killed each other to death and everything was settled?

Thinking this, Zombie was incomparably conflicted. When that time came, would he, Garen Glover, act or not? Go up or not go up?

If he went up, he would expose himself.

If he did not, then the mute would...

That mute deserved to die, but not like this.

Damn it!

He had thought this was already bad enough, but the situation developed worse than he imagined.

"His eyes, Little Red. I understand."

Fogg examined Ralf's expression and became increasingly serious.

"Next, he is probably going to risk his life against us."

Fogg expressionlessly raised his long blade.

Nekra, who was having a headache, was startled when he heard this.

Opposite them, Ralf sneered and picked up a blood-covered chain sword from the ground. First, he wiped the blood on his sleeve, then wrapped the chain on the hilt tightly around his arm, as if admitting it.

This movement made all the surrounding fighters tighten at once.

"Perfect!"

The Red Viper gritted his teeth and simply threw aside gains and losses, rousing his savagery again.

"Then let's fight to the end. Who lives and who dies, leave it to the setting sun!"

He roared, the secretion of hormones in his body speeding up, and his muscles grew increasingly tense.

Facing these two powerful enemies, Ralf split his mouth in a smile and tightened his grip on the chain sword, as if saying this was exactly what he wanted.

The aura between the three of them abruptly changed.

What? A life-and-death fight? Here? Now?

Glover looked in disbelief at Ralf, who was showing off in the middle of the warehouse, and from the other man's movements and expression, he read with terror that this might be true.

Ralf...

Was prepared to die here.

Wait!

Glover instinctively shook his head.

Was there something wrong with this mute's brain? Was there nothing else he could do?

Jade City had docks and seaside. If he wanted to kill himself, why not go anywhere else? Why insist on coming here to die?

Was this homesickness? He had to die in the gang where he came from?

And that betrayed female boss, was she the mother of his unborn child or something? Was she that important? Worth this broken mute risking his life?

No, judging by age, she was probably the grandmother of his unborn child!

Fuck!

The more Glover thought, the angrier he became. His chest was already full of curses.

And what meaning was there in fighting to the death here?

Glover observed the Blood Bottle Gang members, who were gradually restoring order and discipline, and discovered with a headache that they had formed ranks again. The only two exits were once more surrounded so tightly that not even water could pass.

Would that female boss be spared by the enemy because the mute died heroically and won their respect?

Please. This was an ugly and realistic gang conflict, not a noble and ideal knight's duel.

Besides, had the latter ever truly existed?

Stupid, selfish mute who ignored his comrades!

Fuck him!

Just as Glover cursed endlessly inwardly, and just as Ralf's one-against-two life-and-death duel was unavoidable and about to erupt, a voice faintly sounded in the crowd.

"For the Blood Bottle Gang to have such an expert, to be honest, I am very gratified."

Glover was startled and instantly raised his vigilance to the highest level.

The battle was interrupted. Ralf, Nekra, and Fogg's auras leaked slightly, and all three turned back at the same time. The black-clothed killer, who had not moved for a long time, stepped forward, passed through the crowd, and walked toward the three in the center.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

His steps seemed to carry a power that seized hearts and souls. Every step tightened everyone's heartbeat.

It made people short of breath, their hearts race and their courage chill. Many people's expressions tightened, and their breathing quickened.

"But I remembered. We have actually met before, haven't we?"

The black-clothed man looked at Ralf and laughed softly.

"Right outside that wool merchant's estate."

At that instant, Ralf and Glover frowned at the same time.

Bad.

They had been recognized.

One of the things Glover had most worried about had happened after all.

"You came to capture me together with them... the wind that day was also very strong, strangely strong. And your legs and feet were not this nimble yet, ability user."

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The black-clothed man slowly stepped forward. Each step gave people enormous pressure. Added to his pitch-black covering from head to toe, he inexplicably made people uneasy.

Nekra and Fogg exchanged a glance. The former let out a breath and showed a smile again.

Ralf's pressure sharply increased.

He stiffly turned back and watched the approaching black-clothed man warily, gripping the chain sword tighter and tighter.

As an observer, Glover sighed and instinctively gripped a machete on the ground.

What should he do now?

Go up and chop people together with the mute?

But if they had to deal with that black-clothed killer, should they attack first at all costs? Or find the right chance to ambush him from behind? Or simply focus entirely on grabbing the mute and running?

Surely he could not be expected to risk his life blocking the killer and create a chance for the mute and his old flame to escape, right?

But that black-clothed man's swordsmanship, combined with that strange ability, had left even the capture trap Lord Mallos commanded the Star Lake Guard to set unable to do anything to him.

The two of them, one not yet recovered from injuries and the other just finished fighting, were not even enough to get stuck between the man's teeth.

Damn it. They had gone through so much trouble to sneak in and learn so much intelligence, only for everything to be wasted.

All for the mute's old flame?

Fuck!

Zimikas was very alert to danger nearby. He immediately noticed Glover's movement and became terrified.

"Fatty, what are you doing? Don't!"

What was he doing?

Doing what?

Right now, I want to kill someone!

Glover looked at Ralf and spat fiercely.

"I can feel your killing intent. Perhaps hatred as well, even a will to die, young man."

The black-clothed man's gaze was hidden behind black lenses, yet it made people panic for no reason.

"I would also be happy to use you to test the quality of my subordinates."

Ralf's expression changed, and just as he was about to erupt into action, he discovered in surprise that:

Without realizing it, he was already trembling so badly that he could not even raise his arms.

This, this quickly?

Bad!

Glover, who was closely watching the situation, was startled. Seeing the mute's expression, he reacted immediately.

It was that ability!

"But unfortunately, my schedule is very full. I have no free time to play games with you and your master."

The black-clothed man clicked his tongue and shook his head, slowly arriving before Ralf.

"Today, let us end here."

The next second, Ralf's expression changed, and his body swayed.

But he was not the only one.

The two fighters standing closest to the black-clothed man, one with a dazed gaze, began muttering to himself, while the other simply fell to the ground with a thud.

Thud! Dong! Smack!

Starting from beside the black-clothed man, more and more people in the warehouse fell or softened to the ground. Some mumbled as if dreaming, some rubbed their foreheads, and some fell into deep sleep.

"Ah..."

"No..."

"I want to eat something good..."

"Hahahahaha..."

Nekra and Fogg both stepped back half a pace. The Red Viper's expression was painful, while Fogg looked dazed.

Bad, bad, very bad!

Seeing everyone's strange state, Glover cried out inwardly. He was preparing to charge out and ambush the black-clothed man at all costs when he immediately felt his leg grow heavy.

"Yes, Mom."

Zimikas hugged his leg and collapsed, his eyes blank.

"I, I worked hard today and earned quite a lot of reward money. Yes, Mom. Right, Mom. No problem, Mom..."

Glover prepared to kick him away, but Zimikas's expression turned bitter.

"Don't worry. I won't learn from Father and join a gang, and I definitely won't be cut to death like him... I didn't become a little thug. I didn't bully suffering people. The money I earn is clean money, honest money. I still have to save money to hire the best lung disease doctor for you... the best..."

Glover's breath stopped. He gritted his teeth and withdrew his raised foot, only gently pushing Zimikas away.

This bastard.

This warehouse...

Was full of fucking bastards.

But when he pushed Zimikas away, Glover suddenly discovered that on the ground in front of Zimikas, a pool of blood had been blown open by the wind, revealing crooked writing.

[Prepare. Backup plan.]

Glover was startled.

Backup plan?

What backup plan?

The next second, little Tetto appeared before him, hopping and running toward him.

No, no!

Glover desperately shook his head and shifted his attention back to the center, only to see Ralf bend over in pain before the black-clothed man.

As if kneeling.

Damn it!

Glover struggled to resist the ability, his heart anxious.

At least explain it clearly!

Surely it could not mean that this mute wanted to heroically stay behind and create a chance for me to escape...

Hmm?

Create a chance to escape?

Glover shook violently.

At that moment, he suddenly understood.

He understood. He fucking understood what Ralf wanted to do.

Before the black-clothed man, Ralf breathed in a daze.

The figure before his eyes was sometimes the black-clothed man, sometimes Catherine, sometimes the boy who had changed his fate, and sometimes a pack of fierce, terrifying, hungry wild dogs.

He could not tell the difference.

"Once, when I was only a commoner, people refused to sit down and seriously listen to me speak."

The black-clothed man's voice rang out, as if coming from the distant sky.

Ralf worked hard to shake his head, wanting to press his forehead, only to discover that when he reached out, he touched the ground.

How had he...

Knelt down?

"So I worked hard to practice the sword and swung it with all my might."

The masked black-clothed man's words continued.

"At last, they were finally willing to sit quietly and listen to me speak."

He patted his sword hilt, his tone becoming lonely.

"But it took me a long time to understand: what they listened to was not my words, but the sword's words."

Ralf only saw the other person's lips opening and closing, but he had no idea what he was saying.

He was even a little confused. Why did the other person open and close his lips?

Was it for eating?

The air pressure lost control and leaked from the alloy air bottles in his prosthetic limbs, but he seemed completely unaware.

Until his knee knelt onto a field of glass shards, one of which happened to stab into the gap between metal and flesh.

That special touch and pain cleared his mind.

Right!

He was still in the warehouse, still struggling with all his strength against cruel fate...

Ralf woke with a start and instinctively reached into his pocket.

That Glover, that big strong man, that person everyone said was bad at social interaction, but who in reality simply did not want to and disdained to socialize, that big fellow whose mind was twisted beyond repair, that Zombie who had been forced by Terror Blade to form a pair with him...

Would he understand?

Could he do it?

Could he... succeed?

Behind the crates, the dizzy Glover panted roughly and struggled to reach into his pocket.

That's right.

Why had he not thought of it?

They were in the Blood Bottle Gang's territory, surrounded layer after layer by so many gang members, among whom there were no lack of super-class fighters. As long as one of them held them up for even a moment...

And Ralf was carrying the heavily injured Phantom Blade. With such a burden, there was no way they could escape no matter what.

With just the two of them, it would not work.

No matter what, they could not do it.

After all, they were not the Wrath of the Kingdom.

So, the only feasible way to break through so many people was...

Glover laboriously opened his eyes and looked across the warehouse.

From front to back, from left to right, some Blood Bottle Gang members groaned, some moaned, some sleepwalked with outstretched hands, some muttered to themselves, some painfully held their heads, and even more simply fainted stiffly.

Nekra slowly slid down against the wall, eyes tightly shut and expression painful.

Fogg's expression was ugly, his body weak. He grabbed a handrail to avoid falling.

Duro sat on the ground, his gaze obsessed, tears streaming down his face.

Though their reactions differed, at this moment, with the black-clothed man as the center, the whole warehouse's gang members had fallen in waves from the inside outward, and the vast majority had lost their ability to move.

But at least...

Amid the dizziness, Glover barely looked toward the other side.

The path leading to the exit had already cleared. It was no longer blocked by a dark mass of people.

Glover swayed and knelt, finally taking out an injection syringe with difficulty and trembling as he pulled off the needle cap.

Their backup plan.

The goddamned backup plan.

Well done, mute.

Had he thought of this from the beginning?

Only...

Did he not think it was too risky?

Glover used all the strength in his body to open his eyes. In his vision, the black-clothed man bent down and looked at the mentally dazed Ralf.

"Now, I give them the dreams they want and hope they truly begin to listen to me."

The black-clothed man shook his head lightly.

"But I discovered again that once they start dreaming..."

He looked at Catherine in the corner, then at the people lying crookedly across the warehouse, and sighed.

"They can no longer hear what I say."

Ever since their encounter with the black-clothed man, after the Royal Guards, more precisely the Star Lake Guard, had returned in defeat and disgrace, Watchman and Captain Lord Tormond Mallos had begun collecting intelligence and formulating countermeasures.

One of them was how to resist the mental ability that caused people to inexplicably fall into illusions.

Illusions.

Amid the dizziness, Glover bit the tip of his tongue and tried hard not to look at the siblings cheerfully running before his eyes. How happy they had been then.

The next second, he took a deep breath and stabbed the injection into his thigh.

Among the Six Wings of the Royal Guards passed down through generations, the Punishment Wing had special duties and specialized in punishment and interrogation.

They had many methods and tools, some of which had even been handed down from the ancient empire era. With long histories, rich experience, and generations of improvement, they were efficient and useful. It was said even Secret Intelligence often borrowed personnel or equipment from them...

For example...

Glover put away the syringe and took out an ordinary clothes clip that could be found in every household.

In a daze, Zombie trembled. Amid little Tetto's illusory laughter, he followed the advice of Patterson the Gardener from the Punishment Wing and clipped it onto the skin below his shoulder socket and under his armpit, pinching only a very thin layer.

He just did not know when the Punishment Wing's medicine would begin taking effect...

But Glover did not know.

Because he dazedly and comfortably closed his eyes and began thinking about other things.

Such as apples.

Apples.

Yes, apples.

[Fatty, don't cry.]

He clenched the apple in his pocket, wiped the blood from it, timidly crossed the street, and hurried toward home, or as Tink had said before, the nest.

The apple had gone a little stale, and there were more than a dozen cuts on it, all left by Clown's throwing knives.

At that time, Kess had counted the throwing knives in his hand while laughing madly, saying that as long as Fatty held up the apple, stood against the wall properly, stood steady, did not tremble, did not shout, did not scream, and did not cry, then once Kess finished practicing with a bag of throwing knives, this delicious apple would be his.

And he had done it.

He held up the apple and stood very steady, held it even steadier.

He did not tremble.

Did not shout.

Did not scream.

Even when Clown's last throwing knife deviated from the apple and pierced through his palm.

And he did not cry.

[Fatty, don't cry.]

This apple...

Was his now.

No, it was theirs now.

When he returned to the nest, Sister Lilian, stupid Tink, foolish Vorn, broken Scabies, stinking Snotbug, and that annoying little Tetto who stuck to him every day and caught colds every day, everyone would see that he had a fresh apple here.

Sister Lilian would praise him like she praised Vorn last time, right?

Heh. When he went back this time, all of them would envy him.

Hmph. Want to eat? Then say, "Please, Brother Fatty."

Done eating? Then hurry and say, "Thank you, Brother Fatty."

Now no one would dare laugh at him for being useless, for being fat and only eating without working.

Fatty sniffled and ran all the way, pride and happiness rising in his heart. Without realizing it, he touched...

The wound on his hand.

The next moment, in the warehouse full of mutters and groans, Glover jolted and opened his eyes.

Holy fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck your mother ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!

He screamed aloud, exhaling all the air in his lungs in one breath.

But he had no more time to think.

The pain from under his armpit, magnified countless times, made his back spasm. Glover painfully clutched the clip under his armpit and kept rolling on the ground.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

At some unknown point, little Tetto had vanished from before his eyes.

In his place was endless tearing pain.

It was as if someone was holding scissors and, starting from his armpit, cutting open his skin bit by bit, inch by inch, thread by thread.

The blades even kept making snip-snip sounds.

They forcibly pulled Glover back from the memory he could not free himself from.

All right, Glover now knew the medicine had taken effect.

That's right. This was the fastest "solution" for resisting mental abilities, created after Lord Mallos collected information, questioned those present, discussed and considered the matter with the Flag Bearing Wing, accepted the Punishment Wing's suggestions and raw materials, and commissioned the Logistics Wing to modify it:

An interrogation drug that magnified perception, focused attention, and especially enhanced pain sensitivity.

Alias: Exiled River Shrimp.

As for why it had that name...

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!

As Glover screamed inside his brain, he struggled and twisted on the ground like a river shrimp out of water.

Fuuuuuck!

It fucking hurt!

Which damned bastard told Mallos that pain could defeat hallucinations?

If I find out, I will tear him apart with my bare hands!

Tear him apart alive!

Starting from every single hair!

Amid the pain magnified countless times, Glover tremblingly grabbed the clip under his armpit and loosened it slightly.

The pain retreated.

Only then did he discover that in just a few seconds, his head was already covered in cold sweat.

Damned Gardener Patterson. Damned Punishment Wing.

Fuck, and the Gardener had even said this was a reduced dose after his adjustment. If this was a full dose of Exiled River Shrimp...

Punishment Wing, I fucking remember you now.

But Glover did not dare think about it and had no time to think.

"When I was young and hot-blooded, speaking with righteous conviction, the world would not listen."

In the center, the black-clothed man looked at Ralf, who had completely lost consciousness.

"When I rose with a sword and spoke with authority, the world listened but did not hear."

He slowly extended a hand and covered Ralf's scar-covered neck.

"When I suddenly understood and catered to what they wanted, the world heard but had no heart."

The black-clothed man sighed deeply.

"Ability user, do you understand this loneliness?"

But the next second, the black-clothed man swiftly turned, and his long sword left its sheath.

Clink! Clang!

Amid sharp metallic sounds, the black-clothed man swung and blocked, stopping a blade that suddenly attacked.

The blade and sword crossed, wrestling against each other.

"You can still move."

The black-clothed man's breathing was natural, and he had energy to spare.

"Not simple at all."

Before him, Glover panted roughly. All the strength in his body was focused on the blade hilt, yet he still could not break through the black-clothed man's defense.

Damn it!

"Your hand isn't steady. Are you injured and not fully recovered?"

Glover gritted his teeth, his features twisted.

The thing not fully recovered was not his injury.

It was the damned...

Exiled River Shrimp!

The Power of Eradication spread, numbing Glover's pain.

And drowning his thoughts.

In that instant, Zombie's gaze gradually turned blank, but his movements were not slow at all. His blade followed the momentum and turned.

The black-clothed man seemed to sense something. With a flip of his hand, he knocked aside Glover's fatal horizontal slash that followed the sword body.

"Wait, you, I recognize you too."

The black-clothed man saw Glover's appearance clearly and sneered.

"The big tough fellow who lasted eight rounds in the wool merchant's home?"

"Where is your other companion? The one who hid his strength at first, but actually had exquisite swordsmanship and was familiar with the Legion's Ten Forms?"

Fuck!

The Power of Eradication surged, and Zombie ignored everything, swinging his blade in fierce chops.

Clang! Clang!

The sound of metal clashing echoed back and forth.

The black-clothed man calmly and steadily used his sword, answering each move front and back, continuously blocking Glover's attacks.

Every swing of his sword, every step, even every slight movement of lowering his shoulder or turning his wrist was just right. Not one move was extra, not one form wasted, not one posture or bit of force failed to take effect.

By comparison, whether it was feint, pressure, killing move, or defense, every one of Glover's attacks seemed to fall short by just that little bit. He repeatedly failed at the last step, his results poor, making him bitter and suffocated beyond words.

While swinging his sword, the black-clothed man even had spare energy to speak.

"Not bad. Your foundation is solid, but you usually shouldn't use a blade. You use a sword, and it's Imperial Wind. Oh, the swordsmanship of the Wind Knight Glover family?"

Glover was slightly startled.

"How strange. The moves belong to the Wind Knight line, but they have none of its agility and elegance. Instead, they are sharp and vicious. Did you start halfway and mix things up, making it impure?"

Glover froze, then angrily replied,

"Practice your mother!"

The Power of Eradication in his body erupted, and his offense rose again.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

But Glover swung three times in succession, and all three were easily blocked by the opponent. Returning without result, he grew increasingly shocked.

Strength, speed, agility, dexterity...

This guy does not surpass me in any of them.

But why...

Why can he always guard, block, and even dismantle my moves?

He had thought enduring the ability would be enough, but now it seemed this killer's swordsmanship was more exquisite and stronger than he had imagined.

And stronger by far too much.

"So that's it. The problem comes from your Power of Eradication."

The black-clothed man sneered.

"Heavy, sealed, restrained, boundless. It is not Stellar Brilliance, not Flawless Iron Wall, and not Sword-Washing Grief, yet it has some traits of each. So it is..."

Glover no longer wanted to hear him speak from above like a teacher instructing a student. His eyes went blank.

"This is for Tetto!"

He roared and, attacking without defending, threw himself at the black-clothed man with his life on the line.

Too impulsive. Risking your life already?

The black-clothed man sneered. The arc his long sword drew was natural and clever. With only one move, he exquisitely resolved Glover's first slash.

His body was agile. He retreated several steps at exactly the right time, barely avoiding the rest of Glover's ferocious charge.

This attack looked fierce and savage, but left no room for itself.

Once its momentum passed, it would be time for this brainless big fellow to take a beating...

Hmm?

Wrong!

At that instant, the black-clothed man alertly raised his head.

Directly above him, a huge wooden signboard hanging from the top of the warehouse was suspended by its final rope, swaying on the verge of collapse.

This was...

The black-clothed man's pupils tightened.

Shhk!

The next second, a chain sword spun past and cut that rope.

No.

The black-clothed man caught a surprised glimpse from the corner of his eye: Ralf had woken at some unknown point.

The Ghost of the Wind was panting, stuffing a syringe back into his pocket. In his other hand, the original chain sword had vanished.

It was him.

The black-clothed man instantly understood. It was this fellow who, while darting and leaping through the warehouse, had cut the signboard's ropes one by one, leaving only the last, prepared to cut it at the critical moment.

As for the other fellow...

The black-clothed man's peripheral vision turned again. Glover's momentum did not stop as he desperately rolled away from beside him.

His life-risking attack was to force me into this position?

These steps, including that leg-skilled ability user pretending to be about to risk his life against the Red Viper while actually forcing me to use my ability, could they have been...

Planned in advance?

The shocked black-clothed man had just thought this through when the huge wooden signboard fell with a rumble. Driven by a strange wind force, it dropped straight onto the black-clothed man's head.

Bang!

Amid a deafening crash, dust flew across the entire warehouse.

Ralf waved at Glover, then covered his mouth and nose, turned around, picked up Catherine, and leapt up.

On the other side, Glover likewise did not stop. He covered his head and face, knocked aside two blocking gang members who had just woken and were still confused, charged toward the warehouse's back door, and kicked.

Bang!

The back door was kicked open, and sunlight and air rushed into their faces.

Bright, fresh, warm.

Freedom.

Most of the people inside and outside the warehouse were either affected by the ability and still drunk in dreams, or had just woken and were still muddled. Their path was clear, without obstruction.

"Quick!"

Amid Glover's anxious urging, Ralf carried Catherine, stepped with his prosthetic limbs that had refilled with air pressure, leapt out, and charged out of that dim and dangerous warehouse.

They succeeded.

Glover punched down a sentry who had shakily stood up, rushed outdoors, caught up with Ralf, and ran madly for the road.

But right now, there was only one thing he wanted to do.

That was raise his head and roar:

Fuck, they had broken through and escaped!

Fuck the goddamned Exiled River Shrimp!

Glover and Ralf exchanged a glance. Without slowing down, they rushed onto the escape route they had planned before arriving and vanished into the docks.

Crash!

In the warehouse, the huge signboard split from the middle, breaking into two halves.

The black-clothed man stood up slowly, sword in hand, just in time to see the two men's backs vanish around a corner.

He said nothing. He only turned around and disappeared into the shadows.

In the entire warehouse, from Nekra to Fogg, everyone now finally woke as if from a dream. They struggled to stand and looked at one another, still not knowing what had happened.

Some time later.

"Th-that black-clothed man, he didn't, didn't chase us. It's, it's really a miracle."

Glover hid beneath a bridge pier, his machete pressed against the ground, panting hard.

On the other side, Ralf, who was nearly exhausted, laboriously put Catherine down and collapsed onto the ground.

After rushing out of the warehouse, they had twisted and turned all the way, not knowing how long they had run. Only when they had no more strength did they rest for a moment.

Ralf raised his right hand with difficulty and signed:

[Thank you. I'm sorry...]

But before he could finish the sign, Glover, who had just recovered some strength, threw away the machete and pounced, punching him in the face.

Thud!

Ralf fell over, stars before his eyes.

"Fuck!"

Glover roared and slapped his blood-covered chest.

"In that huge show just now, I got hit who fucking knows how many times!"

He angrily pointed at the bloody machete.

"Killed five or six people, got covered in blood, almost didn't survive, all for you and your old lover! You unfucked idiot!"

Ralf climbed up, trembling, and signed with difficulty.

[I'm sor...]

But Glover did not even look and punched him in the face again.

"Let me escape first, right? Hahaha, thanks a lot. Even more self-righteous than Big Dick Brother, deciding everything on your own!"

Zombie cursed furiously.

"I escape first? Then in front of everyone else, I become the sinner who abandoned his companion, a traitor, a coward, right? I really fucking want to break your legs... break your hands! I escape first? I run? Where the hell was I supposed to run in that huge warehouse? Run? Run your mother..."

Ralf panted and activated his ability. The wind rolled up fallen leaves, which landed before Glover and formed words:

[I'm sorry.]

Glover froze for a moment.

"Sorry your motherfucking desert!"

He gritted his teeth.

"You cripple who deserved to be crippled!"

Ralf had been enduring his temper the entire time, but hearing this, he could not help widening his eyes in anger and rapidly signing:

[I fucking apologized! Apologized! Three times! Three times! Three times! You stupid bastard who couldn't even find the escape route! Want to fight again?]

Just then, a weak voice sounded.

"You, cough cough, are... who?"

Glover and Ralf froze at the same time.

The Phantom Blade Catherine lifted her head with difficulty, clutching her severed arm, her face full of pain.

Glover snorted coldly and leaned close to Ralf, lowering his voice.

"When we get back, I'll settle accounts with you!"

Ralf showed no weakness and stomped his prosthetic limb, using the metallic sound as a response.

"Where are you... ugh... going back to?"

Catherine closed her eyes, her pain coming in waves.

"None of your fucking business, old woman."

Glover wiped the dried blood from his face, his tone completely unfriendly.

"Just lie there and play dead properly."

Catherine smiled helplessly.

Seeing that Glover was hard to speak with, she turned to Ralf.

"I need... need a doctor, or I won't live... you, you two as well."

Ralf silently looked at her, his eyes complicated.

"Since you saved me... hiss... if I die from my wounds, wouldn't your rescue be wasted?"

Catherine closed her eyes again.

"Right?"

Big Sister...

Ralf instinctively opened his mouth, but he could only make a simple throat sound.

"Ah."

"Good. You, what is your name?"

Ralf clenched his fists and shook his head.

The Phantom Blade raised her head and forced herself to speak.

"Why don't you speak?"

Ralf swallowed and only felt his chest stifled.

The atmosphere beneath the bridge pier fell silent.

"Stop bothering him!"

Glover could not help snorting.

"Can't you see? He fucking doesn't want to talk to you!"

For an instant, Ralf was very grateful to Glover.

Catherine's face paled, and she leaned back again.

"You two will die too."

"Enough. We'll find you a doctor. Now shut up."

Glover impatiently clapped his hands and calculated the route from here to Emerald Palace.

"No. You don't understand."

The Phantom Blade spoke with difficulty, her voice intermittent.

"I just met Emerald Palace's steward, but then... Covendier has probably made up his mind to clear me out... hiss... reshuffle the Blood Bottle Gang."

Reshuffle the Blood Bottle Gang.

Hearing this, Glover frowned and instinctively exchanged a glance with Ralf. But after realizing it was him, the two snorted disdainfully and turned away at the same time.

"So your enemy is Emerald Palace?"

"An, an entire... Jade City. They're all enemies."

Catherine breathed heavily. Ralf scooped some water for her and carefully fed it to her.

"If I show myself, I'll die."

Glover frowned.

In other words, they could not return to Emerald Palace.

It was no longer safe there.

At least, they could not return like this, or they would only bring trouble to His Highness.

Damn it.

Thinking this, Glover had no choice but to sigh.

"Do you have any other place to stay in Jade City? Preferably with a doctor. Otherwise, we can hold on, but you won't live long."

"Originally, yes. But since Covendier has abandoned me..."

Catherine closed her eyes, shook her head, and groaned through clenched teeth.

"Then I can't go there. Ahhhh."

"Then where can you go?"

"Roger and Tarimi didn't participate in the mutiny just now. Their territories are safe. Temporarily."

"Right, except for one thing: they're both dead!"

Glover shook his head disdainfully.

"Yes."

Catherine rested for a while, then opened her eyes again. A long-unseen ferocity appeared in them.

"In that case, in all of Jade City, there is only one, one place to go."

"Where?"

"You won't like it."

Hearing this, Glover and Ralf exchanged a glance, then both snorted again and turned their heads away in disdain.

One hour later.

"Hmm? Who are you? Why are you holding a knife? Hey, let go of me, no, no, no... ahhhhhhh!"

Thud!

Glover impatiently knocked unconscious the deformed man with the tumor who was shouting loudly before him. Then he kicked open the half-closed iron door and walked down the stone steps with a blade in hand.

Behind him, Ralf laboriously carried Catherine, who had fainted again, and followed step by step into this narrow passage.

Fuck. What kind of people would live in this damned place?

Forget it. No matter who they were...

Glover panted roughly and spoke through gritted teeth, warning the people in the passage.

"I just killed five, no, six people, to find this godforsaken place where the sun never shines!"

At this moment, his body was covered in wounds, blood, and sweat, sticky and foul-smelling. His shoes were full of sewer water he had stepped through just now, stinking terribly. It was truly difficult to be in a good mood.

Especially when he had knocked on the door for ages and no one answered.

"All for the sake of finding one person. One person! To be honest, my patience is almost exhausted!"

Glover was originally so tired he did not want to speak, and negotiating with people was not his strong suit. But do not forget...

The two people behind him, one was heavily injured, and one was purely mute.

Fuck!

Thinking this, Glover cursed inwardly.

He was truly having terrible luck today.

"Stop! This abandoned sewer was given to us by Boss Roger of the Blood Bottle Gang!"

A short and stout robed man, who seemed to be the leader, came forward and nervously looked at the machete in Glover's hand, which was clearly used by gangs.

"No matter who you are, for Dung Egg Roger's sake..."

"Roger is already fucking dead!"

Glover said impatiently.

"Two hours ago, someone stabbed through his stomach, and his breakfast flowed out!"

The short and stout man was startled when he heard this, and the people around them began whispering in terror.

As expected, if he did not speak like this, no one would understand.

Glover snorted coldly and raised the machete.

"So now, you'd better be sensible..."

But in the very next second, Glover's blade froze.

Glover widened his eyes. The rest of his words stuck in his mouth, unable to come out.

Huh?