Chapter 748: The Choice of the Wicked

"Federico said something similar."

In the dungeon, Lausanne the Second sneered.

"Turnbull brought the Blood Bottle Gang into the Covendier family's internal strife, was dragged down by it, and disaster came crashing down. Things like that."

And his choice ultimately led to that crushing defeat on the rainy night.

Belicia frowned slightly, then sneered.

"Then I suppose that exiled young lordling who knows the 'truth' must also have told you: old Gang Leader Turnbull was originally Viscount Sonar's subordinate, loyal and hardworking, and that was why the old duke counterattacked and ruined his name?"

The killer snorted softly and did not deny it.

"Of course that young master has selfish motives."

Whether it was to bring down his cousin.

Or to clear his father's name and redress his grievance.

As for which mattered more?

Perhaps even Federico himself did not know.

From noble scion to rebel criminal, from silk and fine food to wandering hardship, from high spirits to clinging to life, that young master had been shut for too long in a dark room without windows. He had come into contact with too many monsters wearing human skin, been steeped too deeply in underground prisons filled with blood and fragrance, until even his mind was no longer normal.

He could only persuade himself, day after day, amid wicked whispers:

Both were one and the same.

Grasp power, and justice could be found again.

Find justice again, and one had grasped power.

"But you still chose to cooperate with him."

Belicia watched the expensive cigarette she had flung to the floor sink into dirty water, dampen, soften, and turn black.

Lausanne the Second was silent for a while.

"Those vampires once tried to persuade him to join them."

Soft means and hard means alike.

The new 'father' they found for that young lord supposedly had no low status either.

Belicia frowned.

"Join?"

Lausanne the Second closed his eyes.

"And in that kind of darkness and despair, not everyone has the courage to refuse them."

To refuse the temptation of immortality, youth, and freedom.

To refuse abandoning the weak body of a mortal.

To refuse the chance to numb oneself and forget pain.

To refuse a second life, begun anew.

Lausanne the Second looked at his severed right arm and saw countless tiny abnormal buds of flesh trembling back and forth almost imperceptibly at the cut. His eyes became lost.

"That young master is one of those who did."

The killer spoke softly.

Belicia froze.

She looked deeply at the killer, read the meaning between his brows, and sighed.

"But you do not believe his words, especially the part about Turnbull?"

After hearing this, Lausanne the Second was silent for a long time.

"Do you still remember old gang leader? Remember what sort of man he was?"

Belicia, who had been deep in thought, came back to herself. A cold light appeared in her eyes.

"Of course," she said coldly, making no attempt to hide her malice and disdain. "A dead man."

Lausanne the Second hummed indifferently and shook his head.

"No. He was a wicked man."

"A wicked man?"

Belicia first froze, then laughed.

"Anyone who mixes in our line, from extortion and abduction to murder and arson, which one is not wicked? Fisso, Morris, Qina, Anton, the blade bitch, Ferg, Red Viper, including you and Black Sword..."

"They are not qualified."

Lausanne the Second coldly interrupted her.

"At most, they count as bad people."

Even Black Sword was only a fierce man who had seen through life and death.

"Only him."

Under the woman's puzzled expression, Lausanne the Second's gaze froze.

The bottle contains no wine, only the people's blood.

Turnbull.

The vampire killer spoke softly.

"Only Turnbull could be called a 'wicked man.'"

A wicked man whose boldness and vanity were two faces of the same thing, whose pride and inferiority reflected one another, whose ruthlessness and cleverness grew together.

Wicked in the sense of vile.

Wicked in the sense of evil.

Wicked in the sense of demonic.

Belicia was silent at first, then snorted with disdain.

"But if you knew how this 'wicked man' rose from a street thug like Catherine today, climbed onto the high branch of the Covendier family, wagged his tail at them and begged, and only then climbed step by step in the Blood Bottle Gang-"

"Worse."

Lausanne the Second interrupted her again.

"Before he rose, he was not a thug."

The killer's expression was serious, as if this point was extremely important.

"He was a criminal."

His crime was heavier than the charge.

His guilt could not be answered by punishment.

Lausanne the Second said silently.

Belicia did not respond, but the disapproval between her brows was obvious: so what?

In the entire Blood Bottle Gang and even the Black Street Brotherhood, among those with names that counted, was there anyone who was not a criminal?

The only difference was whether they had been caught.

"The order is wrong as well."

"What order?"

"Once, the greatest backer behind the Blood Bottle Gang was not Jade City," Lausanne the Second recalled the past. "And more than half the bosses whose words counted in the gang were East Sea people."

Belicia froze.

East Sea people?

"The most profitable businesses, whether incoming or outgoing, all went through the Seven Ports of the East Sea."

Lausanne the Second said in a low voice,

"Until Turnbull changed everything."

Belicia's expression changed.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean old gang leader did not rise in the Blood Bottle Gang because he leaned on the Covendier family..."

Lausanne the Second slowly said,

"It was the iris family. They saw. They saw Turnbull. Saw this hopelessly wicked man..."

Saw him move vertically and horizontally through the disorder and chaos before and after the Bloody Year, eliminating dissidents...

Saw him manipulate power amid the boundless flames that swept the kingdom from top to bottom, step carefully, grow larger and larger...

"...saw him lead the Blood Bottle Gang and unbelievably break free from Wave-Treading Palace's control, cutting off dependence on Radiant Harbor."

The killer narrowed his eyes.

"Only then did they make up their minds and extend the olive branch to Turnbull and the Blood Bottle Gang."

Only then did they dare, many years later, to take the leadership of the underground world back into the hands of the Duke of the South Coast.

From another family no weaker than themselves.

To reclaim this largest illegal business in the kingdom.

To make the tricolor iris, which had fallen into silence and declined for so long since the Age of the Wise King, once more grow branch and bud.

The dungeon became utterly quiet.

"I lived through those days. I know what kind of person Turnbull was."

Lausanne the Second's voice was calm.

"Yes, for survival, for safety, for achieving his goals, he never begrudged turning toward a backer like the Covendiers and seeking the shelter and support of power."

If necessary, he would not hesitate to wag his tail, beg, bow low, and make himself small.

Accept being used, even being discarded.

"But believe me."

Lausanne the Second raised his gaze.

"In the entire Blood Bottle Gang," the killer said coldly, "there was no one who despised those great figures born noble more than he did."

It was not jealous resentment.

It was not bone-deep hatred.

It was not practical enmity.

It was contempt.

Contempt that came from the deepest part of the soul.

A beggar can hate a king, but he cannot despise a king, no matter how much he claims he does not care about everything the king possesses.

Only another king, or an even higher existence, can truly despise a king from the soul.

Belicia's expression changed, and she fell into deep thought.

"Therefore I know he would never lightly involve himself in the noble internal strife you speak of, much less choose a side and become a chess piece. Still less would he charge into battle and die for some great person's interests."

That was not his... habit.

Lausanne the Second remembered something and clenched his remaining fist.

"Because he was far too clever. Far too seasoned."

He understood too well how to judge the hour and assess the situation, how to steer circumstances, how to bend and stretch freely between all kinds of powerful forces and seek fortune while avoiding disaster, how to maneuver and protect himself amid deadly power struggles, whether facing the Sun Sword Shield or the tricolor iris.

The killer sneered.

"In fact, the more chaotic and tangled the situation became, the more he could smell opportunity, place the correct bet, profit from it, and rise straight upward-"

At this point, Lausanne the Second suddenly stopped.

He discovered that Belicia was giggling.

"Why are you laughing?"

Belicia shook a finger and shot him a sideways glance.

"I was thinking that, as a murder tool who takes money to work and might not see him even a few times in a year, you understand him surprisingly well."

Lausanne the Second was silent.

Yes.

But precisely because of that.

Precisely because he was Turnbull's tool for killing.

Precisely because Turnbull only used him when someone needed to be killed.

That was why he knew clearly what sort of time and what sort of matter would make Turnbull decide to kill what sort of person, including how to kill them.

Whether to act decisively or wait for the right moment.

Whether for a breath of anger or a piece of business.

Whether to kill the enemy before his eyes or a potential threat.

Whether clean and quick or loud and public.

There was no better way to understand a person, especially a wicked person.

But...

"I knew him before he rose," the vampire killer said faintly. "Earlier than you imagine."

But it was not something worth being proud of either.

Belicia did not care about the complicated emotion inside that sentence. She only snorted coldly.

"The Black Street Brotherhood."

Lausanne the Second's eyes moved.

"Gangs like that appear in countless numbers every year across the country. In the end, they either die, scatter, or surrender to the Blood Bottle Gang."

Belicia said coldly,

"But have you ever thought about why only the Brotherhood, which had just risen then, only they, when competing with the Blood Bottle Gang, not only survived the most dangerous years and escaped several crises of destruction, but also took root in Eternal Star City and grew, to the point that you had to personally take action and kill?"

Lausanne the Second frowned slightly.

He lifted his gaze from the damp, stinking ground and looked at the woman.

"You said I had at least two chances to kill Black Sword, but you warned him in advance..."

"Yes. But why?"

Belicia interrupted him without courtesy.

"At that time the Blood Bottle Gang was rich and powerful. Turnbull had gathered a large number of warriors with special abilities. But look at the Brotherhood's trash and scum, even now they are unreliable and low grade."

She narrowed her eyes.

"At that time, I was a bitch who only knew how to cling to men. What benefit was there in risking myself to warn them?"

Lausanne the Second froze.

Belicia's tone changed, carrying ill-intentioned guidance.

"Or, whose order did I receive?"

The vampire killer did not react. He only stared blankly at this old acquaintance who stirred such complicated feelings.

"Honestly," after a few seconds, Belicia lowered her head and sighed in apparent regret, "and you said you understood him."

Him.

In that instant, Lausanne the Second's breath stopped.

Looking at her seemingly sly, actually cruel gaze, he understood something.

"Turnbull."

He spoke softly.

Belicia giggled and turned to pace.

"You said it yourself. No one was cleverer than him, and no one was more seasoned than him," the woman's voice remained steady, but her expression was subtle and complicated. "Then you should know all the more what unbelievable things he could do to achieve his goals."

Lausanne the Second was wooden and silent.

"Clearly, that self-clever old lantern believed that, in the eyes of the important people of Emerald Palace, if the Blood Bottle Gang, as their black glove and hound, wanted to survive, wanted to live comfortably, and wanted to keep scraping bones from their hands, it could not be the only dominant house, could not sail smoothly, and could not be without competitors."

Predictable and controllable competitors.

"But you know this line. People enter it either because life forces them or because they are stained with prior crimes. They are the lowest and unluckiest fellows from every profession. How high can their quality be? What right do they have to compete with the Blood Bottle Gang, with the Covendier family's black glove? What right to enter the eyes of the important people?"

Belicia blocked the light. She took out another cigarette and held it to the lamp.

"So in those years, the opponents old gang leader allowed to grow and even indirectly supported, from the Spice Gang to the Iron Bat Society, from the Blade Thieves, you should know them well, some of them were killed by you, to the northern bandits, all kinds of river-and-sea thieves and outlaw groups claiming they would challenge the Blood Bottle Gang, most of them were shortsighted, gathered for profit and survival, gathering then scattering, scattering then gathering..."

The cigarette lit, and Belicia's eyes sharpened.

"And not a single one of them went as far as Black Sword and the Brotherhood."

They endured the Blood Bottle Gang's attacks and injuries, each one timed just right.

Lausanne the Second clenched his teeth.

"Yes. Turnbull. He created Black Sword. Created the Brotherhood," Belicia turned her wrist and elegantly took a drag. "Created your destined opponent."

And his own grave.

Lausanne the Second said nothing for a long while.

Belicia was not in a hurry either. She only stood by the wall and smoked in silence.

"I reported to him."

"Hm?"

Lausanne the Second's voice sounded in the darkness, without ripple.

"After the second failed pursuit, I reported to Turnbull and admitted that my poor execution allowed Black Sword to become inexplicably alert and escape by luck."

Yes, very lucky indeed.

Belicia burst into laughter.

"Then I suppose that old lantern must first have been incredulous, solemn-faced, grinding his teeth as he smashed a cup. Then he took a deep breath, calmed his anger, and finally laughed with heroic breadth? Did he pat your shoulder magnanimously and tell you he did not mind, since who does not fail once when working? Perhaps, perhaps he even generously gave you the full promised payment and said he believed that as long as you put in more heart and effort, next time you would certainly succeed? Hahahaha, perhaps he even asked whether you wanted to stay and eat together, and by the way asked how things were going between you and me? Perhaps he said that with a woman in your heart, the sword drawn by your hand was no longer divine, and asked whether you wanted him to change the woman warming your bed? Hahahahaha..."

By the end, Belicia was laughing so hard she bent forward and back, her body trembling like flowering branches.

Lausanne the Second did not speak.

Though he could not see it, amid the endless laughter, the vampire's cursed senses allowed him to perceive clearly:

Tears were seeping from the woman's eyes, sliding gently down the laugh lines on her cheeks.

"He should have told me."

The killer said in a low voice.

With your personality, would you have cooperated with him wholeheartedly, acting with him in this little game of "deceiving you"?

"Do not be too sad," Belicia withdrew her laughter, her tone playful but expression cold. "I only learned later too. He usually did not tell bitches too much."

"Was it the duke or the viscount?"

"What?"

"Since you say Turnbull drew disaster on himself because he became involved in the iris family's internal fight," Lausanne the Second took a deep breath and adjusted his emotions, "then you, or all those who betrayed Turnbull and me, who exactly bought you? Whose instruction did you receive?"

He frowned deeply.

"Who wanted Turnbull dead? Wanted me dead? Wanted the entire Blood Bottle Gang to fall apart?"

"Was it Duke Lenster, or Viscount Sonar? The elder brother, or the younger brother? Or some other force we did not know?"

Footsteps sounded.

Belicia gently paced into his sight.

The cigarette slowly burned in her hand.

"You understand Turnbull so well," the beauty before him parted her red lips, full of natural charm. "You tell me."

Lausanne the Second looked at her half-smiling expression and fell silent.

A country contains no king, only a tyrant.

In the next second, Lausanne the Second strained to turn his gaze toward the metal lock on his chest.

At the joint of the lock, the imprint of an iris could vaguely be seen.

Lausanne the Second sighed softly.

"I lived in seclusion back then, but I still remember that when Duke Lenster and Viscount Sonar first developed friction, it began only as political disagreement, with occasional conflicts."

The killer recalled the past.

"Later, because of one disaster and accident after another, their grievances deepened again and again, until they drifted farther apart and finally made the whole city storm with tension, swords drawn and bows bent."

He gently closed his eyes.

"Those were not accidents, were they?"

Just like Jade City now.

The woman did not answer immediately.

"I do not know."

Belicia spoke softly.

"I only know that Sonar Covendier was the first to break tacit understanding and custom. He used the resources under him that could not see the light, including the Blood Bottle Gang, to interfere in political struggles and influence city governance. It stirred complaints everywhere. Across the country, he spread rumors and smeared his brother to question his rule.

"In response, Duke Lenster counterattacked ruthlessly. He not only coldly suppressed the viscount's supporters, but even once tried to hollow out Archsea City and directly reclaim a series of privileges, including supervision of the Blood Bottle Gang, to the ducal throne."

Just like Jade City now.

A complicated internal struggle that could not overturn the table and draw swords, could not use force and shed blood, yet involved many forces amid endless undercurrents and back-and-forth contests.

Lausanne the Second suddenly smiled.

"Turnbull must have been very happy. The duke and the viscount fought each other to death, yet both were fighting for the support and loyalty of him and the Blood Bottle Gang to add weight to their side," he said woodenly. "After the Bloody Year passed, it had been a long time since he had experienced years so passionate and surging, when he was so valued."

Belicia also smiled.

"Of course," the woman exhaled smoke with disdain. "After all, he was standing there, at the very center of the stage, holding the sliding weight that could affect the balance."

The vampire killer remembered something and suddenly looked toward the dungeon exit.

Holding the sliding weight that could affect the balance.

Just like... Jade City now.

"But a sliding weight is used to achieve balance."

Lausanne the Second spoke quietly.

"Not to break it."

But if the owner of the scale discovered:

The sliding weight was broken, loose, unable to stop at the point of balance no matter which side it slid toward...

Belicia laughed softly and raised her head.

"You truly do understand him."

With one principle clear, a hundred others followed. Lausanne the Second understood something.

So that was it, old Turnbull.

Old big pot.

Old gang leader.

Old friend.

Old opponent.

Old benefactor.

You truly were the same as always. You did not choose a side.

And yet...

"Tell me, Belicia."

After several seconds, the killer spoke calmly. The hostility and pain from before were gone.

"Back then, when the iris family fought internally, when the duke and viscount brothers quarreled, all of Jade City and even the South Coast Territory were dragged in. The state, the economy, and the people's lives were all affected."

Lausanne the Second was expressionless.

"Turnbull, the old gang leader of the Blood Bottle Gang. In all of this, was he ambitiously fanning the flames and personally starting the war..."

His gaze dimmed.

"Or was it coincidence and timing, causing him to follow the trend and push the waves along?"

The dungeon was quiet for a long time.

"Is there a difference?"

Only after a long while did Belicia speak.

"When your ship sails into a storm..."

The woman threw away the cigarette butt.

"Do you think the Sea-Herding Maiden cares whether you are a good person or wicked one, whether you are at the bow holding the helm..."

Belicia's gaze was icy.

"Or ballast at the bottom of the ship?"