Chapter 487: Lessons
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 487: Lessons
The wind atop the roof was fierce.
The breeze blowing in from the Gulain River always carried a faint, fishy stench. It was as if blood had been dissolved into the air.
"What is the meaning of this, Wood?"
The Rat King did not turn around. He could clearly feel the sharp weapon pressed firmly against the vital spot on his back. He knew that if he made even the slightest suspicious move, Wood’s backstab would pierce his heart without mercy.
"Do I need to say it twice, my dear Sam?"
Still dressed in his bathrobe, Wood gripped the dagger, a mocking expression on his face. "I am the mole you’ve been looking for."
"..."
A vein throbbed on the Rat King’s forehead. For a fleeting second, a raging fire erupted in the depths of his narrow eyes, only to be instantly suppressed.
"I asked because I cannot understand it," the Rat King said, his voice raspy as he took a deep breath. "Wood, you were one of the first to follow me, and one of the men I trusted most. Otherwise, I wouldn't have handed you my most profitable establishments to manage... Why betray me? Have I not treated you well enough?"
"No, Sam, you’ve treated me very well. It’s thanks to your promotion over the years that I’ve made it this far." Wood’s voice was low, his expression sincere.
It seemed he was truly reminiscing about the years he had spent following Rat King Sam, living on the edge of death in the Lower District. He thought of the people they had killed together, the fires they had set, and the loot they had shared. Even though his mind was made up, a pang of sorrow struck his heart.
"It’s a pity... I don’t want to kill you, but I have to." Wood leaned his tall frame down, whispering into the Rat King’s ear, "Because what you gave me isn't enough to satisfy me. I want more, Sam. Much more."
"And they will give you what you want?"
"Yes. As long as you die, Sam. As long as you die... I will be the new Rat King. That is what Mr. Old Ghost personally promised me. As someone who lived through that era, you should know well that Old Ghost never breaks his word. He may be a tyrant, but he is a true Ruler."
Wood’s hand gripped the Rat King’s shoulder with increasing force. At this moment, he looked like a hunting black bear, his eyes flashing with greed and ferocity.
"The position of Rat King is worth far more than a few bars and brothels. Without your ridiculous rules, I can expand my territory and grow my influence without restraint. Do you know, Sam? Because of your childish regulations, I haven't tasted a tender virgin under the age of thirteen for an entire month. The stench of those old women almost made it impossible for me to get hard."
"Ridiculous," the Rat King said expressionlessly. "And stupid."
"Ridiculous? Haha... As a traitor, my actions are indeed ridiculous. But stupid...?" The dagger sank in bit by bit, nearly piercing the Rat King’s skin. "Sam, you aren't still fantasizing about some chance at a comeback, are you? Ha! If that’s what you think, then I’ll give you special permission to take one last look behind you."
"..."
The Rat King said nothing, merely turning his head in silence.
First, he saw Wood’s nauseating face. Then, behind him, in the shadows of the building, he saw many figures radiating murderous intent. They had completely surrounded the area.
These were the men Wood had supposedly gone to contact earlier. Unfortunately, these men were not the Rat King’s subordinates. As for those in the Rat Society who were still truly loyal to him, they likely wouldn't be appearing here.
There was no escape.
"Look at them, Sam. All my men have been mobilized within this building. And what do you have? You have nothing. You’re even injured." Wood sneered. "Ha! To think the Rat King, who dominated the Lower District, would have such a pathetic day. It’s truly a rare sight. If I hadn't seen how weak you’ve become, I probably wouldn't have had the courage to drop the act just yet.
"A pity. In the Lower District, the strong always prey on the weak. That’s the lesson you taught me yourself, Sam. No—Lord Rat King."
"Farewell."
Driven by the twisted pleasure of crushing a man who had once stood high above him into the dust, Wood suddenly tightened his grip on the dagger and lunged for Sam’s vitals.
His eyes were wide, and an abnormal excitement flooded his brain. He could already see himself sitting on the Rat King’s throne, clutching power and wealth in his hands.
Yet even at this moment, Wood did not relax. The muscles in his arms bulged, and a surging fighting spirit flowed through his limbs. He was actually a formidable martial artist. This seemingly ordinary strike was a merciless, full-power blow, infused with a sophisticated martial technique.
Based on his knowledge of the Rat King, Wood was certain that there was no way Sam could survive such an attack...
Clang—!
The sound of metal colliding rang out.
Wood’s expression froze instantly. He stared blankly for a long moment before stiffly lowering his head.
The expensive magic dagger in his hand, personally bestowed by Old Ghost, had easily pierced the Rat King’s clothing. But it had stopped there.
As the river wind blew, fluttering the fabric, Wood saw a cold, metallic glint through the tear. Faint magic patterns pulsed across the metal surface. It looked several grades more expensive than the magic dagger in his hand.
"Wood, let me teach you one last lesson."
The Rat King looked calmly at the stunned Wood. Though he was nowhere near as tall as Wood, at this moment, it felt as if he were looking down on him.
"Until you have watched your enemy draw their last breath with your own eyes, you can never claim true victory."
"It’s a shame... you’ll have to use your life to learn this one."
*
Down on the street, a horse neighed.
A tall stallion suddenly seemed spooked, rearing high on its hind legs. Ignoring its master’s attempts to soothe and pull it back, it slammed violently into a nearby wall.
In an instant, the horse snapped its own neck, blood splattering everywhere. The massive carcass blocked the intersection.
The onlookers, always eager for a spectacle, watched with curiosity while simultaneously waiting impatiently for someone to clear the road. Yet for some reason, the Guard Corps—who had become quite efficient lately under the lash of the new Lower District Magistrate—was nowhere to be seen.
While everyone’s attention was fixed on the bizarrely dead horse, no one noticed that the carriage the stallion had been pulling was now gliding silently into the depths of the alleyway, despite having no horse to lead it.
Deeper. Into the quietest reaches.
Though it was daytime, not a soul was visible on these streets. It was as if an invisible force had driven away the pedestrians who should have been there. Only silence remained.
The carriage finally came to a halt.
"Who goes there?"
Directly ahead, the guards nervously blockading the front door of a bar noticed the silent carriage. They immediately shouted a challenge and moved to investigate.
They were a well-trained three-man squad, armed with high-quality weapons—a far cry from the usual gang thugs found in the Lower District. Facing the eerie carriage, they dared not relax, advancing with caution to ensure they had room to react to any surprise or ambush.
Finally, they reached the carriage.
The three exchanged looks. One of them stepped forward, cautiously using his long blade to lift the carriage curtain.
And then...
They saw what was inside the carriage: a pitch-black, deep, and chillingly cold...
New-model military magic cannon muzzle.