Chapter Three: The Deal

Following a hidden passageway behind the liquor cabinet, the Cripple moved with utmost caution, not making a sound as he slipped past stacks of rum and spirits, climbed over two large crates filled with smuggled tobacco and sugar, and came to a halt at the end of the passage, where a stone wall stood in his way.

The dark corridor was lit only by a thin sliver of light coming through the stone wall. Pressing himself against the wall, the Cripple brought his eye to that narrow beam and peered into the next room—a cozy chamber furnished with comfort. The glow of a dozen white candles filled the small room with light, and a ring of large armchairs covered in animal pelts encircled the space. Lin Qi was sprawled in one of those chairs, wearing that infuriatingly smug grin that made you want to punch him right in the face, gulping down mouthfuls of liquor.

The Cripple’s pupils shrank to pinpoints—he recognized the bronze flask in Lin Qi’s hand. It was one of the few bottles in his entire shop of rum aged a century, a vintage whose value could no longer be measured in gold but existed instead as a legend of the Cripple’s establishment.

“That damned brat—how did he find that treasure?” The Cripple trembled with anger, but as his gaze swept past Lin Qi to the figure standing nearby, as sharp and straight as a drawn blade, he saw Enzo. The Cripple’s mouth twisted in resignation, and he shook his head with a sigh.

He pressed a hidden spot on the stone wall, which slid aside without a sound, and the Cripple stepped out with a radiant smile.

“Hey, hey! What wonderful gift has my dearest little friend brought me this time?” he said, rubbing his hands together greedily. He deliberately avoided looking at Lin Qi, who was drinking, and let his covetous eyes linger on the cloth bundle under Enzo’s arm. The Cripple knew Lin Qi well—this was a young man shrewder than any old hand in the underworld. Unless the deal was sweet enough, he’d never set foot in the Cripple’s shop.

‘A kid with limitless prospects—his father truly has an extraordinary son,’ the Cripple mused inwardly.

As the Cripple entered, Lin Qi gave the bottle a vigorous shake, draining every last drop into his mouth. Letting out a satisfied sigh, he tossed the flask carelessly to the floor, the clatter making the Cripple’s heart ache. With a contented belch, Lin Qi clapped his hands and called out cheerfully, “Dear Uncle Cripple, every time I see you, it’s like seeing a flock of golden crowing roosters and a swarm of silver chirping larks. You’ll give me a price that makes me happy, won’t you?”

The Cripple glared at the bronze flask rolling on the floor, then slowly fished a gold coin and a silver coin from his belt.

The currency of the Seventh Empire bore the face of Saint Louis XIII on one side, and a proud rooster on the other. All those with ties to the underworld had a tacit understanding to call the gold coins “crowing roosters.” As for the latest-minted silver coins, they bore a lark in flight and were thus nicknamed “chirping larks.”

With a show of nonchalance, the Cripple tossed the coins onto the only small table in the room and threw back his head with a laugh. “Uncle Cripple’s got plenty of little roosters and little larks. As long as my dear young friend brings something of interest, the price is the least of our worries.”

Lin Qi burped again, while Enzo silently stepped forward and dropped the cloth bundle heavily on the table. The Cripple deftly unraveled it, revealing six rapiers, their blades gleaming beneath a coat of rust-proof oil. The hilts fit perfectly in the palm, and the slender blades, each four feet in length, shimmered with even patterns of clouds and water—clearly of the finest steel. The tips shone with a dazzling blue-green, their piercing chill so intense it was hard to meet their gaze.

“My, my, what exquisite little treasures!” The Cripple’s eyes lit up as he pounced on the table, his fingers caressing the six rapiers with the tenderness of a lover stroking a peerless beauty. His fingertips trembled as they traced each undulating pattern on the steel—dense, resilient, truly first-rate swords.

He grabbed one at random and flicked his wrist. The candlelight in the room dimmed all at once. There was a sinister hissing in the air, like a venomous snake, as streaks of silvery light—too swift for the eye—sliced through the air and struck a suit of armor standing in the corner.

The armor was mostly made of thick oxhide, with palm-sized steel plates fixed at vital points. Under the Cripple’s attack, the leather shredded like paper, and the steel plates over the chest and underarm, each an inch thick, groaned sharply as the rapier’s tip punched through.

The candle flames flickered again as the Cripple drew back the sword, scrutinizing it closely. There were only a few hair-thin scratches on the blade—virtually no damage at all. He clicked his tongue in admiration. That armor, a display piece in his shop, had cost him a fortune to acquire from the Imperial Army’s official supply stores—a uniform reserved for mid-ranking officers.

Yet in the face of these rapiers, even armor worn by seasoned officers was worthless, a testament to the blade’s formidable piercing power.

Seeing the result of the test, Lin Qi burst into delighted laughter, rubbing his hands together with excitement as visions of gold and silver coins danced before his eyes. He grinned at Enzo, “Didn’t I say so, didn’t I say so? Uncle Cripple would be pleased with this batch. We went through no small effort to get these out of the military academy’s arsenal, didn’t we, Uncle Cripple?”

The Cripple snorted, carefully laying the rapier back on the table and narrowing his eyes at the six swords, lost in thought.

Lin Qi arched an eyebrow, slipping both hands into his sleeves. Enzo, silent as ever, placed his hand at his waist, where a concealed pouch held another sword identical to those on the table. Enzo judged the distance between himself and the Cripple; with a single thrust, he was ninety percent certain he could run the blade through the Cripple’s throat.

The candlelight quivered faintly as if something had stirred the air in the room.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of the Cripple’s neck stood on end, like a frog fixed in a serpent’s gaze. His skin prickled with goosebumps.

After a moment’s contemplation, the Cripple sneered and shook his head. “Weapons of this quality in the academy’s arsenal? Nonsense. Swords that can pierce a palm’s thickness of hardened steel—there are plenty of big spenders who’d kill for them. But I want the truth—where did you get them?”

Enzo’s hand gripped the hilt steadily, his icy gaze fixed on the Cripple’s throat.

Lin Qi, unconcerned, crossed his legs and said with a laugh, “Does it matter where they came from? They won’t be in your hands for long, anyway!”

The Cripple frowned, pondering for a moment before suddenly shaking his head with a wry chuckle.

With a flourish, he pulled out a greasy pouch and scattered a handful of gold coins onto the table.

Lin Qi’s eyes turned golden in an instant as he hurled himself at the pile with a triumphant cheer.