"Hmph."
Harlan released the crossbow, handing it to one of his subordinates.
Then, without looking back, he vanished into the storm.
Matthew's lip curled, a cold sneer forming in his heart.
"Thought he was tough, but in the end, he's just rushing off to lick that eunuch's boots."
He then looked down at Wald and Newar, who were still on the ground, and asked:
"You guys shouldn't all stay here. One of you needs to come with me to the place where the Alchemist stays. Who's it gonna be?"
Wald and Newar exchanged glances, glaring at each other again.
Matthew didn't want to waste any more time. He stepped in, separating the two with his hands, and said:
"It's raining outside, so things might get messy. Wald, you bring your men and come with me."
Newar was clearly dissatisfied.
"My men can fight too. Nothing will go wrong."
Matthew shook his finger, pulling Newar up and explaining:
"I'd rather listen to your chatter than spend time with Wald."
Newar paused, then decided that actually made a lot of sense.
Matthew pulled Wald up as well, speaking casually:
"Let's go. Remember to bring your crossbows. A rainy night in the Fishmarket isn't like inside the city walls."
Wald wiped his mouth, hissed in pain, then covered it gently with his hand, muttering orders indistinctly:
"Magpies, grab your weapons. Follow me."
His subordinates, imitating their captain, could all whistle like magpies, hence the nickname "Magpies."
They were naturally aggressive and ruthless, but physically stronger than Newar's men.
Without a word, the Magpies snatched crossbows from the other squads and marched out of the tent.
Not even a thank you.
The others were furious but dared not speak out.
They had just watched the Magpies suppress Newar's Sparrows, even resorting to knives. These people were lunatics.
When they left, everyone actually breathed a sigh of relief.
Only Newar was unhappy. Sitting back on the straw mat, he felt he had lost face completely and slammed his fist onto the wooden plank.
Bang!
The twelve remaining Little Birds in the tent jumped.
Afterward, no one dared to say anything. They simply dragged the dead Magpie out, intending to throw him into the Blackwater Rush.
Outside, the rain fell steadily. Apart from the sound of raindrops hitting the ground, there was only the wind, thunder, and the roaring churn of the Blackwater.
Standing under the pitch-black clouds, humans seemed insignificant.
The two Little Birds felt spooked. Dragging the corpse, they hurried toward the riverbank, wanting to finish the job and get back to the safety of the tent.
But the rain was heavy, the sky was dark, and they didn't know the path well. They stumbled frequently.
Finally reaching the river, just as they tossed the body in, a bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating the world in blinding white.
In that flash, they realized they weren't the only ones dumping bodies by the river.
Eyes met, and the Little Birds felt a chill of dread.
But darkness fell again.
They heard chaotic footsteps but saw no one.
When the next lightning bolt lit up the sky, two fish-gutting knives, gleaming cold, came slashing down.
After two screams, two more small bodies floated in the Blackwater Rush, bobbing up and down before disappearing into the murky yellow water.
On the shore, no one remained.
Only a set of footprints, washed by the rain, went from deep to shallow before being swallowed by the overflowing river.
---
Southwest of the Fishmarket, near the King's Gate, the shanties grew sparse.
Matthew knew this area like the back of his hand.
He led Wald on a winding path, left and right, until they reached a small, abandoned shack.
The shack was "locked" only by a piece of hemp rope tied around the door.
Standing in the rain, Matthew pointed at it and said to Wald:
"This is where I met the Alchemist before. He comes once every month or two."
Wald glanced at it but didn't speak. Instead, he scanned the surroundings, looking for shelter from the rain.
This spot was a choke point between the Fishmarket and the King's Gate. Anyone wanting to go to the King's Gate had to pass through here.
However, there were very few dwellings nearby.
Only behind them was a shack with no door and half its roof missing. It was dilapidated, but it offered a good view.
Matthew pretended not to notice Wald's scouting. He waved his hand, ready to head back.
"Alright, I've brought you to the place. I should get going."
Wald was annoyed but didn't follow. Instead, he led his men toward the broken shack.
Matthew gave them one last look, laughed loudly, and walked away.
His laughter sounded abrupt in the rain but didn't carry far.
Wald's face, however, was dark.
---
The walk home from there was at least eight hundred feet.
Matthew was already soaked to the bone, so he didn't mind the distance.
But walking through the Fishmarket on a rainy night meant watching out for those who would kill for a copper.
Rainy nights blinded the eyes and deafened the ears. Fear was born in such moments, and tragedies often followed.
Matthew walked along the walls, his hand resting on his axe.
The closer he got to the docks, the more he sensed the chaotic atmosphere.
The noise of the rain mixed with the shouts of children and intermittent footsteps, all registering in his senses.
Fortunately, he could navigate this path with his eyes closed and avoided any trouble.
But fate is unpredictable.
Just as he was about to reach his tent, a scream rang out from the east, very close by.
Matthew frowned instantly, drawing his axe in a flash.
He remembered that location—it should be the home of the fisherman and his son who had given him a ride earlier.
Those two were rare good people.
Matthew quickened his pace, his feet splashing in the puddles before merging with the rain, transforming into the smiling dimples of the Reaper.
Twenty steps later, aided by a flash of lightning, he saw the fisherman lying in a pool of blood, clutching something tightly in his hand.
Outside the fisherman's shack, three men were kicking at the door.
A rainy night in the Fishmarket was madness like this.
Matthew felt both numb and disgusted.
Another clap of thunder drowned out his footsteps as they shifted from quiet to urgent.
Hearing the sound of wood splintering, Matthew sprinted the last few steps.
Before the shack, a figure raised an axe. As it came down, it cleaved right into the forehead of the man who had just turned to look at him. Instant death.
Dead men tell no tales; he could only collapse limply, returning his flesh and blood to the earth.
Matthew thought that for these three, it might be a mercy.
At least they could repent before the Seven sooner.
Axe blow after axe blow, illuminated by lightning, struck the necks and jaws of the other two men. It was like smashing bottles of wine—red everywhere.
Ambush complete, Matthew panted heavily and knocked on the door.
"Hey, Little Fish, it's me."
The crying inside grew louder, and the door opened.
Seeing the blood-soaked Matthew, the fisherman's son—nicknamed Little Fish—hugged his thigh, burying his face in Matthew's lower abdomen, wailing uncontrollably:
"My father is gone... I'm an orphan..."
Matthew didn't dodge. He stood outside the door, letting the rain wash over him.
He hoped the rain would wash away the stench of blood, the stubborn stains, and the child's nightmares.
Damn this world.
Matthew patted Little Fish's head and asked:
"Why did your father run out?"
Little Fish sobbed:
"Father was afraid the rain was too heavy and would wash the boat away, so we came out to secure it. We didn't expect to run into them... they had just killed two people... and then they chased us."
Listening to Little Fish's choked, broken words, Matthew placed his axe into the boy's hand. He pointed at the three corpses lying in the water and said:
"Go chop them. Mutilate their bodies. That way, no god will take them in, and their ghosts will suffer forever and ever."
Little Fish gripped the axe, looking up into Matthew's black pupils, but saw only two abysses.
"I... I don't dare."
"No, Little Fish. You must dare. Your father is dead. It's just you now. Do you want to be bullied forever? Do you want to be looked down on forever?"
Lightning flashed across the Fishmarket, briefly illuminating Matthew's face.
Little Fish stared blankly. He saw sincerity, but also a chilling indifference.