Chapter 588: Chaos Rises Again
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 588: Chaos Rises Again
"Lord Rat King! A letter! You have a letter!"
Somewhere in the Lower District, the door to a hidden underground chamber was suddenly flung open. Faint light spilled in, dancing with the swirling dust and illuminating a short, slight figure focused on wiping a crossbow.
"What are you shouting for?!"
Twang—
A bolt streaked through the air and thudded into the wall, instantly silencing the frantic subordinate.
"M-My Lord... the letter."
The subordinate cautiously stepped forward and presented the missive.
Back when the Rat King was clawing his way through the gutters of the Lower District, he had been illiterate. He only started learning after founding the Rat Society, but his restless mind meant his education was a patchwork of fragments; he struggled to even finish a complete sentence.
It was only after he became Lord Bruce’s "lapdog" and found some stability that he managed to patch up his cultural shortcomings under Bruce's requirements.
Of course, he was still only capable of basic reading.
"Who sent it?"
"It was... that one."
The Rat King’s spirit surged. He took the letter with great solemnity and unfolded it under the flickering candlelight.
The message was brief. The Rat King finished it quickly, then immediately held the parchment over the candle flame, watching it turn to ash before letting out a long breath.
His expression remained unchanged, but his subordinate could clearly sense the complexity of his current mood.
"Is there any intelligence from that side?" the Rat King asked.
"No detailed reports yet, but according to our scouts, there’s movement over there as well."
"Is that so?"
The Rat King tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling as he sighed. "This time, the world is truly about to change."
"Change?" The subordinate was confused by the weight of the words.
"Don't worry about it. Those matters are far beyond your reach."
"Then what should we do next?"
"What should we do... Heh, what else can we do? I’ve spent so long crawling through the Lower District, thinking I’d finally made something of myself. I never imagined that from start to finish, the only thing I’d ever have to offer as a chip on the gambling table was my own life."
The Rat King stood up. "But since it’s a gamble, there has to be a time when I win. I refuse to believe I’ll lose forever."
He reloaded his crossbow and pushed open the door, stepping into the darkness of the Lower District.
"Boys, grab your gear. It’s time to settle some old scores."
*
In the distance, the Upper District was ablaze with lights. The brilliant glow reflected off the surface of the Old Rhine River like a resplendent mural unearthed from an ancient tomb, chronicling the prosperity and the eventual fall of an era.
Yet, just across the river, the Lower District remained dark and silent.
In the shadows of the low rooftops lining the streets, a few sparks of fire suddenly flickered.
Bright, dim, bright, dim. After a rhythmic rotation, the spark suddenly flared with unprecedented intensity, as if it were about to ignite... then, it turned to pale ash and drifted into the deep night.
Old Ghost dropped his cigar and crushed it under his heel. He pulled out a pair of binoculars and observed the squad advancing silently through the darkness two blocks away.
"To actually manage to smuggle an army into the city... quite the feat!" Old Ghost raised an eyebrow.
"To avoid detection, their numbers shouldn't be high," Gentleman Gro said with a smile from beside him.
"Not many. About a thousand, maybe two."
The corners of Old Ghost’s mouth curled into a cold sneer. "But they look like a highly elite force. Do you really think my gang of thugs—who can't even scrape together a full set of gear—can beat them?"
"Are you afraid?"
"A little. I’m no fool; I don't do suicide missions."
"Fear is not something you should be talking about, Old Ghost!"
Gentleman Gro’s previously amiable face instantly turned cold. "Don't forget who set you up. You were a stray dog before you clawed back to this position. Your purpose is to—Gack..."
Gentleman Gro’s words cut off abruptly.
Clear, distinct handprints began to manifest on the neck of the pig-fat gentleman, bruising the skin. It was as if an invisible hand were strangling the life out of him.
"I’m truly curious."
Old Ghost stepped closer, staring at Gentleman Gro with a look of mild confusion and leisurely interest.
"You’re nothing but a useless mouthpiece. Why did you suddenly find the courage to get tough with me? Do you look down on me that much because I was once a... 'stray dog'?"
"Who gave you the nerve? The people backing you? Or the victory you think is right around the corner? Do you think that once everything is finished, you can just discard me?"
"Guh... haha..."
Gro’s feet left the ground as he struggled wildly, but it was futile. His fat face gradually turned the color of pig's liver, and his eyes bulged as if they were about to pop out of their sockets.
His gaze held a mix of pleading and terror, but mostly, it was sheer disbelief.
Though he had bowed his head to this man before, he had never imagined that this slightly more capable commoner would actually have the audacity to lay a hand on him. After all, after all... he had noble blood flowing through his veins...
"I hate idiots."
Snap.
Gro’s head spun seven hundred and twenty degrees on his neck. Noble blood sprayed and flowed freely from the jaggedly torn flesh.
"Especially idiots like you who can't read the situation."
A subordinate stepped forward, dragging Gentleman Gro’s twisted corpse away as if it were a common occurrence.
Old Ghost pulled out a handkerchief and meticulously wiped his palms. Even though not a single drop of blood had touched him, he still felt filthy.
"Next comes the climax of the banquet."
Old Ghost didn't spare another thought for the dead fool. He turned and looked down over the entire Lower District.
At that moment, lights began to flicker in the darkness.
One place.
Two places.
Then came the sound of a child crying.
Once.
Twice.
Then came a woman’s wail.
One.
Two.
And finally...
Countless curses, screams of pain, shrieks... and the roars of beasts.
The entire district seemed to burst into life in an instant.
"Truly beautiful..."
Old Ghost admired the light and sound erupting in the dead of night, as if watching a magnificent play unfold before his eyes. He couldn't help but praise it from the bottom of his heart.
Stop an army?
He would never do something so stupid. He hadn't stayed silent for ten years just to act as cannon fodder for those fools.
The move he had prepared beforehand would ultimately serve as the most fitting embellishment for this grand feast.
"It doesn't matter who wins or loses."
Ultimately, the struggle for that high throne was too far removed from the Lower District.
But as long as there was enough chaos, he could seize even greater interests from the wreckage.
The fires reflected in Old Ghost’s eyes. He habitually reached out his hand, as if to grasp the entirety of his Lower District in his palm...
Click.
Old Ghost froze. In the darkness, he heard a familiar sound.
A crossbow being cocked.
"So, you came after all?"
Old Ghost acted as if he didn't feel the bone-chilling killing intent. He calmly pulled out another cigar, lit it, and took a deep drag.
"You really are a headache, Sam."
"I should be the one saying that."
The Rat King stepped out from the shadows.
"A ghost from ten years ago should crawl back to hell where he belongs, Old Ghost."