Chapter Sixteen: The Terrifying Easterners

Snow continued to fall, accumulating a thick layer atop roofs and on the ground.

The northern district of Brelly was a chaotic jumble of the docklands, the most disorderly, wild, violent, and dangerous area in the city. In contrast, Brelly’s southern quarter was the venerable old commercial district, where Eastern silk and tea, overseas tobacco and jewels, dwarven weaponry, and elven art could all be found alongside countless rare and peculiar items.

Unlike the docklands’ brutish scene, the commercial district was saturated with a sly, slippery air. The docks were filled with men willing to stab for a brother—or to stab a brother themselves—while the commercial quarter was populated by swindlers, conmen, and thieves of all kinds.

At dawn, menial workers dispatched by the city hall and servants from the shops joined forces to clear away the night’s snow. Vik, clad in black, sat atop a tall building, concealed behind three thick chimneys, eyes narrowed as he watched a distant street.

Per Linqi’s instructions, Vik had spent the past two days recruiting men to surveil the Cripple’s Shop, hoping to spot Jiang Yong and his Eastern companions. Just as Vik was finishing his breakfast, word arrived: Jiang Yong had appeared alone in the commercial district and was in a silk shop asking about the prices of various silks and satins.

Vik’s vantage point offered a clear view of the century-old silk shop, “The Hunchback’s Store.” The shop’s facade was immense, easily ten times larger than its neighbors, filled with fine silks and precious textiles from the East.

The Hunchback’s Store in the commercial district and the Cripple’s Shop in the docks were equally renowned. A hunchback and a cripple—two giants of Brelly’s underworld, each commanding over a thousand ruffians and thugs. They competed, yet cooperated; undermined each other, yet united against outside threats, forming a strange symbiosis.

For instance, the Cripple’s Shop bought stolen goods cheaply from pirates, and the Eastern wares—silk and tea—were passed to the Hunchback’s Store for sale. The Hunchback’s Store, adhering strictly to the dark code, never bought directly from pirates. They guarded their territories jealously; their men never trespassed in the other’s domain. Yet, should the constabulary or some outsider threaten them, they would immediately join forces.

The Cripple and the Hunchback—these were the two legendary pillars of Brelly’s underworld, names that had echoed for centuries.

Vik was blessed with enviable eyesight, able to see in darkness by birth. In daylight, his vision extended more than twice the distance of ordinary men, covering a wide, nearly one-hundred-eighty-degree field. Such gifts made him a natural for becoming a master thief or assassin.

Though over three hundred meters from the Hunchback’s Store, Vik could observe everything inside with clarity.

Jiang Yong, shrouded head to toe in a black cloak with only his face exposed, was inside, inquiring about the prices of various silks and satins. Occasionally, he’d caress the smooth, precious fabrics, a strange, cold smile flickering across his lips.

Vik could not fathom what this enigmatic Eastern man wanted at the Hunchback’s Store. He was from the East; his own clothing was woven from the finest brocade. Why would he take interest in the silks here? Was he conducting market research?

Like Linqi, Vik was a student of accounting at the Fifth University. Jiang Yong’s behavior could only be explained as market research—perhaps he was calculating the profit margin for a bolt of silk shipped from East to West?

Squinting at Jiang Yong, Vik’s gaze swept over two ragged, scrawny men standing in front of the Hunchback’s Store.

They were not members of the Iron Fist Brotherhood, but local toughs from the commercial district—willing to do anything for money. This was the Hunchback’s domain; Vik had no wish to use his own men to watch Jiang Yong, and for ten copper coins as a deposit, he’d hired these two scoundrels to tail him.

These rogues were of little use as primary surveillance; the main watcher was Vik himself. The two were mere stones cast to probe Jiang Yong—tools to test him. Vik hoped they would catch Jiang Yong’s attention, allowing him to gauge the man’s true strength from his reaction.

Vik understood the nature of these toughs. Not only had he paid them ten copper coins to follow Jiang Yong, but if they had chanced upon such a fat sheep themselves, they would never let him go. He looked forward to what would unfold—was Jiang Yong a wolf in sheep’s clothing, or truly a fat lamb?

Jiang Yong lingered in the Hunchback’s Store for nearly an hour. Vik, freezing on the rooftop, finally saw him emerge, hands clasped behind his back, strolling leisurely down a narrow alley. Vik wiped the snot from his frozen nose, muttered a curse for Jiang Yong’s mother, and began to shadow him from the rooftops.

With his extraordinary eyesight, Vik observed Jiang Yong’s every move.

The two toughs did not disappoint. Shivering, they followed Jiang Yong into a secluded alley. Vik watched with satisfaction as they exchanged glances, drew daggers, and crept toward Jiang Yong.

Three hundred meters away, Vik grinned as the two moved in. The alley was deserted—a perfect spot for murder and robbery. If Jiang Yong failed to show sufficient strength, Vik would not hesitate to finish him off with a crossbow bolt.

He chuckled to himself, about to slip into stealth, when suddenly his whole body shuddered as if drenched by a bucket of ice water. Goosebumps broke out all over him; he froze, unable to move.

Hundreds of meters away, Jiang Yong gave a sinister, chilling laugh. A faint violet aura enveloped him, and he charged backward like a maddened stallion, his elbows smashing into the chests of the two toughs.

They made no sound; their bodies exploded, reduced to countless minuscule fragments of flesh and blood, spraying outward. The gore instantly froze into shards, forming a cloud of white frost shooting behind.

Jiang Yong gave a mocking sneer, dusted his hands lightly, and continued forward as if nothing had happened.

Cold sweat poured from Vik’s brow. He went limp, slumping behind a chimney in utter disarray.

“Damn it, this Eastern man—he’s a Heavenly-ranked Knight!”