Chapter Forty-One: The Gray Mist and the Lord of Shadows
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“Heh, demanding tribute from us? Are you tired of living?” Maiziqi, with the yellow scarf, still refused to believe Liang Zhi was the Night Raven.
Liang Zhi was the first to turn to Li Xiao’ao. “Are you going to pay me tribute?”
Li Xiao’ao drew his small knife and lunged at Liang Zhi.
‘Cloth Bind’ + ‘Withered Branch’!
Liang Zhi stretched out his hand, and two metal spheres turned into metallic spikes, piercing through the four thieves and embedding themselves in the wall.
At the same time, their clothes became entangled with the spikes, binding them as if they were livestock strapped to a rack, completely immobilized.
Liang Zhi looked at the dazed Li Xiao’ao and said, “Wrong answer... Time for a beating!”
With a flurry of punches, Li Xiao’ao was left with a swollen, bruised face. Liang Zhi took his wallet, fishing out a handful of crumpled coins.
The second phase of the underworld’s own predation was complete.
Next, Liang Zhi turned to Wei Fu. “Will you pay me tribute?”
Seeing Li Xiao’ao’s miserable state, Wei Fu nodded furiously, like a garlic grinder. “Yes, yes! My wallet’s in my pocket—you can have it all!”
Liang Zhi then looked at the fourth, Tang Na, who wore a purple headband. He immediately forced a sycophantic smile and agreed to hand over his wallet as tribute.
With the tribute from these two, Liang Zhi had fulfilled the moral blackmail listed among his unfulfilled wishes.
Lord Raven rolled his eyes. Strictly speaking, what Liang Zhi had done was coercion, but the wish list’s requirements were blunt—so long as you forced someone to willingly part with their gains by some “reason,” the task was considered done.
Finally, Liang Zhi turned to Maiziqi. The man who’d been so arrogant before now stood meekly, head bowed. “I’d like to pay tribute too.”
Liang Zhi shook his head. He no longer needed moral blackmail—now it was time for predation among thieves. “I prefer the unruly version of you from earlier.”
Ola!
Maiziqi was soon sprawled on the ground, his face battered and bruised.
For the thieves of East City, this was a day of misery. Here, Liang Zhi left behind a legend of his own.
Mercurial, ruthless—the chief thief of East City: the Night Raven!
Maiziqi and his gang were quickly discovered, and Quyuan Street was once again on high alert, everyone searching for suspicious figures.
In this tense atmosphere, Liang Zhi sought out lone thieves, ruthlessly preying upon them as one predator devours another.
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Hu Zhiying, accompanied by the young constable Xing Liusen, searched the streets, their eyes bloodshot with rage. Never before had they seen thieves so brazen.
Soon, night fell.
Yuan Mi stepped out of the Spring Affinity Teahouse, gazing up at the moon. “What beautiful moonlight. Pity that the people here are unworthy of such a moon.”
A thick grey mist, origin unknown, drifted in to shroud Quyuan Street. The street, which had still held a faint glow, was now plunged into oppressive gloom.
Even the streetlights and the glow from apartment windows faded to a mere wisp.
At this, Yuan Mi’s excitement grew.
“I wasn’t wrong—this really is a marvelous place. Just a flicker of flame, and the effect is immediate.”
“Tonight will be a raucous ball. Eat your fill, my child.”
A vague shadow materialized beside Yuan Mi, letting out an excited howl as it plunged into the gray fog.
“This is the great city! In those rural backwaters, where would you ever find so much anger, so much resentment, so many wandering, vengeful souls?”
...
Liang Zhi sat atop the body of a knocked-out fat man, speaking to Lord Raven, who was toying with the man’s hair. “I’ve completed ten acts of underworld predation. It’s time for my reward, isn’t it?”
Reluctantly, Lord Raven tucked his wings under his armpits and produced a pair of black gloves.
The gloves were simple in design, made of a material almost like human skin—light, breathable, and barely noticeable when worn.
“This is the reward for your predatory deeds—the gloves the dead man wore before he died. I remember them as impervious to blades and bullets, capable of absorbing a certain degree of impact... but most importantly, they allow you to touch the intangible!”
Liang Zhi was taken aback. “The intangible?”
Lord Raven puffed out his little belly, adopting a lecturing air. “Malignant wraiths, heroic spirits, sacred souls, and the ‘spiritual ascension’ of the Mechanical Holy Court... There are plenty of things in this world that can’t be touched by physical means.”
Liang Zhi tilted his head back to gaze at the stars, uncertain when he’d finally comprehend the true nature of this world.
“Huh—where are the stars?”
A wave of gray mist quickly blotted out the sky, scattering Liang Zhi’s musings.
“This fog seems wrong. I can’t shake this sense of unease,” Liang Zhi said, slipping on the gloves, with no time left to test their powers.
Lord Raven bristled, all his feathers standing on end. “This is ghost mist!”
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...
In the ruined streets, at the Xiaolanting Tobacco Shop atop the remnants of Ciyou House.
Xie Zhitou rolled up his sleeves, clearing away the debris of collapsed buildings piece by piece.
He had already returned all the local victims of the Bowang Street incident to their homes in Wangjing City. Only a few victims from out of town remained.
He had settled those victims temporarily outside the city and returned to Wangjing to fetch some things, planning to escort the children home the following day.
Suddenly, he straightened and looked toward Quyuan Street, surprise flickering across his face. “The Desecrators are on another rampage—and Liang Zhi is there as well... but that’s none of my concern.”
Among all the wanted criminals in Dazhong, the Desecrator cult was in a league of its own. Anyone of note from their ranks was wanted and had a bounty on their head.
Even among the ‘Renegade’ organizations, only the Dawn Alliance was more hated by Dazhong than the Desecrator cult.
Xie Zhitou continued clearing the rubble, but in a shadowed alley, a group of people had fixed their gaze upon him.
“Pavilion Chief, that’s Xie Zhitou—the mastermind behind Fan Lizheng’s death. If we capture him, we’ll surely find his two accomplices.”
In the pitch-black alleyway stood more than twenty people, most dressed in strange red-and-white robes, their faces hidden behind animal masks.
At the center stood an old man with red-lined robes, distinct from the others. He wore no mask, his face kindly, almost avuncular.
He was the Pavilion Chief of Peach Blossom Spring.
In Dazhong, there was a legend about Peach Blossom Spring: in a remote mountain range, there existed many idyllic little villages.
The hierarchy of the Peach Blossom Spring organization mirrored this legend. There were three tiers of administrators, with the lowest being the village headmen like Fan Jiu—who nevertheless commanded large territories and wielded significant power.
The second tier was the Pavilion Chiefs, like the old man before them.
They were the supreme martial force of Peach Blossom Spring—every one of them at least a master-level adept.
As for the supreme leader of Peach Blossom Spring, no one but the Pavilion Chiefs had ever seen them. Within the organization, they were known as...
The Hidden Lord.