Capital West District, a slum area.
Ailiya pressed down the brim of her wide-brimmed hat and walked along a stone-paved road that grew narrower.
Surrounding buildings gradually became low and crooked, their walls covered with layers of old graffiti and mottled water stains.
The smell of damp cloth, the sourness of rotting food, and some indescribable filthy odor—that was the unique scent of the old district near the river port.
Water had accumulated in the potholes on the road. She skirted around a puddle without pausing her steps.
As she walked, she split off a strand of mental power and probed into the contract’s link.
“Are you still alive?”
The response from the other end of the mental link came back almost immediately, with a suffocating urgency.
“Alive… Are you almost here? My situation… is a bit complicated.”
His voice was intermittent, as if he was running while speaking in a low voice, mixed with a hint of hidden weakness. He seemed injured, or maybe his stamina was nearly at its limit.
“I didn’t betray you! Really, I didn’t! This time, things are really unusual. The Night Owl found me.”
Ailiya frowned slightly. This situation was much faster than she had anticipated. Logically, after the cleanup outside Fengyue City, the Night Owl would need at least a few months to sort things out and send new men.
“Where are you now?”
“Deep in the slums, near the entrance of an abandoned waterway. I’m a bit injured, I shook them off for now, but I can’t hold out long.”
“Be very careful when you arrive. This area has been chaotic lately… the conflict between demi-humans and local residents has gotten more intense than last month.”
Ailiya didn’t ask any more. She quickened her pace and turned into an even narrower alley, following the coordinates Graves had given last.
The walls on both sides of the alley were covered with dark green moss, the stone slabs underfoot were broken and uneven, and the damp smell in the air grew heavier, faintly mixed with a hint of rust.
She walked for about ten minutes when she suddenly sensed a change in the atmosphere. From behind the low doorways and windows on both sides, there were faint gazes—not the curious looks of ordinary residents, but a kind of scrutiny filled with wariness and some indescribable hostility.
On both sides of the narrow alley, clotheslines were hung askew, draped with patched garments. A few dark-skinned human laborers squatted in a corner, sharing a piece of black bread so hard it could crack teeth, paying no attention to anything on the street.
The state of the demi-humans was clearly worse. An elderly cat tribe elder curled up at the alley entrance, a few bundles of wilted wild vegetables in front of him.
His cloudy eyes watched the passersby, but no one stopped for a long time. Not far away, three human thugs in worn leather armor were surrounding a young wolf tribe boy, laughing and shoving him, cursing with dirty words: “Long-tailed beast.”
The boy’s tail was tucked between his legs, his ears drooping, but he didn’t resist.
As Ailiya passed the alley entrance, a few stares latched onto her. She didn’t turn back, but her ice-blue eyes beneath the hat brim briefly flicked in that direction, then withdrew as if she had seen nothing.
Though her clothes were not luxurious, their neatness and crispness still stood out incongruously in this gray, decayed neighborhood.
A one-eyed thug leaning against the wall basking in the sun squinted and sized her up—her plain but clearly out-of-place civilian clothes, and the excessively pale jawline beneath the hat brim.
“Hey, girl, you lost? This kind of place isn’t for—”
The one-eyed thug spat on the ground, pushed himself up from the wall, and was about to block her. But before he finished his sentence, Ailiya had already turned into a side alley.
He was stunned for a moment then quickly chased to the side alley entrance. Looking inside, the narrow lane was empty, with no one in sight—only a moldy wooden box in the corner and a stray cat licking its paw.
As soon as Ailiya entered this area, she had sensed that sticky gaze. Those looks were like cobwebs hidden in the dark—she had long learned how to avoid them.
Ailiya walked for about another fifteen minutes before finally stopping in front of an old wall covered in vines. At the base of the wall, a rusty iron manhole cover was embedded between puddles and gravel.
She crouched down, hooked her fingertips under the iron ring on the edge of the manhole cover, and lifted it upward with a little force.
The heavy cast-iron cover was lifted silently, revealing a pitch-black entrance. A smell mixed with sewage, rust, and an unknown fermented substance rushed at her.
‘Is this guy part rat? Always crawling into places like this.’
She muttered a complaint, then gently moved the manhole cover aside and leaped into the darkness. She landed silently.
The ground beneath her feet was semi-dry cement, with a slight sticky feeling when stepped on. Then, a faint magic power fluctuation came from deep ahead. It was the unique aura of Graves.
She took steps toward that fluctuation, her pace steady and silent, like a drop of water merging into the night, disappearing in an instant.
At the end of the passage was a slightly open area with steps. Moisture beaded on the walls, reflecting a faint glimmer in the dim light. In the corner, a few scattered stone slabs and broken iron pipes were piled up.
Graves was leaning against that damp wall. His right sleeve had a long tear, with dark red blood seeping at the edges. His breathing was rapid and weak, his chest heaving violently.
Hearing the sound, he jerked his head up. His murky gaze focused for a moment, then recognized the newcomer. His body went limp, the back of his head resting against the wall, and he spoke hoarsely:
“You… finally came.”
Ailiya stepped out from the shadow of the wall. Without pleasantries, she asked directly:
“What’s the situation?”
Graves caught his breath and struggled to sit up straight.
“The Night Owl’s men tracked me to the Royal Capital. They somehow found my trail and directly sent a purge squad. The leader is a Fourth Rank, codename ‘She’, skilled in poison and… also knows shadow stealth.”
He paused, a gritted-teeth hatred creeping into his voice.
“I took out a second order, but got nicked by She’s poisoned blade. I’ve temporarily sealed the toxin’s spread with magic power.”
“Last night I tried to break out once, but they set up hidden sentries outside—more than one. So… I contacted you.”
After listening, Ailiya’s gaze lingered for a moment on the wound on his arm, which had turned a dark purple. Then she spoke, her tone as flat as if appraising the value of merchandise.
“So, to keep yourself alive, you decided to drag me into this dangerous situation and try to have me help you out.”
Graves didn’t deny it. He leaned against the wall, pulled at the corner of his mouth, and gave a tired but self-aware smile.
“I’ve done things for you, so at least give me some face. I still have uses in the future, and we’re all in the same boat. One more person means one more strength.”
“The poison you caught is ‘withering kiss,’ isn’t it.” Ailiya’s tone remained flat. “This poison cannot be cured by ordinary means.”
“Hmm… is there a possibility that I also use this poison, so I have the antidote?”
Graves raised his left hand and with difficulty took out a small bottle from inside his clothes.
“It just doesn’t heal that fast, so I can still fight. As long as I get a chance to set up my gun, I can definitely kill that Fourth Rank.”
Ailiya glanced at him, then sat down on a relatively clean stone slab by the steps.
“Then keep hiding.”
She laid her dagger across her knees, the blade reflecting a faint blue glow in the dim magic light.
“Darkness is my home field. The advantage of night is far greater than day.”
Graves stopped talking and leaned against the wall, slowly regulating his breathing.
From deep in the waterway, the sound of dripping water came faintly. Drip. Drip.