The First Night of the Weak

"Fire Scorpion, Dongliu, Grass King..." Inside Boss Dao's old compound at the eastern end of the Third District, Old Hugh was counting off the factions on his fingers. After tallying five of them, he said, "After thinking it through, taking on these ones will be easiest and give us the best shot. That's the lay of the land." According to the rules, a faction's territory had to cover a certain amount of ground. You couldn't just announce you were establishing a major faction and then draw a circle around your own outhouse to call it your territory. Kill God would never approve something like that. Under this principle, the Wild Band Alliance marked out their territory to meet the minimum threshold, carefully avoiding those factions they couldn't afford to provoke under any circumstances—such as the four supers and the top ten heavyweights... Only then could they consider the question of how many enemies they would make. Top combat power was the primary threat they had to avoid. As for head count, the Wild Band Alliance had over a thousand blades combined, which wasn't small compared to other factions. "As long as we can survive these five days, truly establish our faction, and take possession of the territory, expert fighters will definitely take the initiative to join us later. After all, everyone knows that joining a new faction offers far more opportunities and resources." He Guang tried to bolster everyone's spirits. There were certainly plenty of people currently sitting on the fence, watching how things played out. "Let's focus on these five days first," Storm, boss of the Storm Bloodbattle Gang, said in a heavy voice. He glanced down at his watch; it was already five o'clock. Correcting himself, he added, "Let's just focus on tonight." Barring any surprises, the major factions' first wave of joint strangulation would arrive right on schedule after seven o'clock tonight. Based on historical precedent, this first wave usually carried an exploratory nature, yet its sheer scale was paradoxically always the largest. The ranks of fighters subordinate to several major factions and the smaller affiliated gangs within their jurisdictions would make up the main force of this wave. "By the way, has Boss Dao arrived?" Gu Zhazha strapped his blade to his back, asking for the fifth time that day. Beside him, Old Hugh frowned slightly. "Not yet." The members of Boss Dao's gang were all present. Since early morning, like the rest of the wild bands, they had been in the yard gearing up and preparing for battle. But Boss Dao himself had yet to show his face. Even Filio couldn't say for sure when he would "make his miraculous appearance." This uncertainty made everyone uneasy, even infuriated. The dozen or so gang leaders present looked at one another with grim faces. If they had had any other choice, they never would have walked this path, just as they never would have stood together in solidarity under normal circumstances. Yet somehow, they had already reached this point, and there was no turning back. If they backed down, they would no longer be able to survive in the City of Iniquity, which was no different from dying. And they couldn't leave the City of Iniquity. Outside, hunting squads from Azure and various major factions kept watch around the clock, waiting and searching for them. Even top combat powers didn't dare step foot outside. "I'll go check the yard." In the heavy silence, Old Hugh pushed off the armrest of his chair, stood up, and walked toward the door. Knowing full well how dire their situation was, he still possessed a bit more confidence than the others. That shred of confidence came from the hand that had clamped down on his shoulder from behind that night. To hold him down with a single hand while his apparatus was activated so that he couldn't take a single step back—if that person wasn't a top-tier expert, Old Hugh would eat his dead iron blade raw. Over the past two days, Old Hugh had been constantly guessing whether that person was the silent Ah Xi. He felt the likelihood was high, but he had no way to ask directly. You had to maintain sufficient respect toward a top combat power, especially when that person seemed utterly uninterested in paying you any mind. Old Hugh made a circuit around the yard and questioned several members of Boss Dao's gang, only to find that Ah Xi and his crew weren't there either. His unease deepened. The time was now 5:20. *** "Take a look." In the three-story building belonging to Ao Yong and Qian Daofeng, Zhe Qiuhong brought a wooden box over and set it on the table, then turned to clear the bowls and chopsticks on her own. Han Qingyu opened the wooden box. The blue starlight column sword was now black—and yet, not merely black. Beyond its predominant black hue, it was coated with a streak of red, a red like molten lava that gave off the illusion of radiant heat. "Was this for looks?" Han Qingyu asked with a smile. It truly did look good, possessing a different aesthetic from its original appearance. "When you channel source energy into it in the dark, the red portion takes on the form of an edge, making it look very much like a blade," Zhe Qiuhong said as she carried the dishes away. "Thank you," Han Qingyu said behind her. "Don't mention it." Zhe Qiuhong didn't turn back. Rusty Sister sat down beside him. "Look, Qingzi! Mine got dyed too. Doctor Zhe said the color definitely won't come off in normal combat." She opened her own small wooden box. The small starlight column sword looked just like the large one now, primarily black with a streak of lava-red running along it. "You're going too?" Wen Jifei asked. Rusty Sister nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Of course. I can even go out on the streets now; I've been strolling around for three whole days!" "Then what about Doctor Zhe? Leaving her all alone..." "I'll wait for you at the hospital," Zhe Qiuhong called from the kitchen. "Listen to how unlucky that sounds," Wen Jifei grumbled with a laugh. "Then I'll wait to count our profits, how's that?" Zhe Qiuhong chuckled silently to herself. The clock ticked to 5:40. Not far away, in the Ninth District, the Berlik Gang was a top-tier gang under Dongliu's jurisdiction—a true top-tier outfit, the kind entrusted with governing a small sub-district. Unfortunately, the small sub-district they governed had been carved into the planned territory of the newly formed Wild Band Alliance. This meant that if the Wild Band Alliance succeeded, all of their holdings would be handed over, leaving their future completely uncertain. The leader of the Berlik Gang, Old Charles, wasn't actually as old as his moniker suggested. He was only fifty-two, but his thick beard was stark white, and had been ever since he was thirty. Tightening his apparatus one last time, Old Charles raised his wrist to check his watch, then said, "It looks like I have to head out, my dear." With that, he waved goodbye to his daughter and turned toward the door. "Father," Lynne called from behind him. The brown-haired daughter of the gang leader was also a fighter, and a skilled one at that. But tonight, her father had ordered her to hide in the basement alongside the families of the other members. Throughout the city's history, there had been more than a few instances where a new faction launched a reverse sneak attack, so they had to be cautious. Old Charles looked back, regarding Lynne with his usual doting gaze. His wife had passed away long ago, leaving him with only this one daughter, whom he had pampered into being somewhat willful. "Be careful, Daddy," Lynne said worriedly. "Don't worry. Your old father has fought in faction wars before; I know how to look out for myself and preserve our strength." Old Charles gave a faint smile. His meaning was clear: *It's fine. We're only going because we're living under someone else's roof and have no choice... Your dad is just going to slack off.* A life dependent on a major faction might seem glamorous from the outside, but it was far from easy. Take a situation like this: if you didn't contribute people and effort, it would mean big trouble; but if you genuinely risked your life and took heavy losses, the major faction wouldn't actually protect or care for you much afterward. Once another gang replaced you, they would still have their hounds. "Then..." Lynne's expression turned a bit awkward. "'If you run into a young man with a scar on his face, about one meter eighty-three tall, a Huaxian, please don't kill him'... You've told me that five times today, my daughter." Old Charles smiled again. When his daughter first mentioned the scar, Old Charles had thought she wanted him to spare Boss Dao. After his brief laugh, Old Charles waved once more, exchanging a fond smile, and turned to leave. Outside the door, forty of his veteran companions were waiting. Bringing forty men ought to be enough to keep up appearances, Old Charles thought. That was why he left forty men behind to guard their headquarters, taking along almost exclusively seasoned slickers who knew how to stay alive. The clock reached 6:10. Han Qingyu and his group of six first drove the garbage truck to drop Zhe Qiuhong off at the hospital, then turned back on foot, cutting through the Third District to report to the old compound. Along the street that was normally bustling with activity, the streetlights were on, and the ground was somewhat filthy, with fallen leaves and scraps of paper swirling in the wind. No one was sweeping. People were closing their windows along the street. Amid sharp *clacks*, dead iron shutters and doors were sealed tightly shut from within. The light was blocked out, leaving the roadside even dimmer. *Clatter!* With the metallic weight in their palms, shopkeepers standing on the street locked their massive dead iron gates with heavy padlocks. Pockets stuffed with keys and arms clutching small chests or cloth sacks, they looked warily left and right as they hurried away. "Big Sis, aren't you moving your stuff out?" Wen Jifei asked. The shopkeeper turned around, putting away her keyring. "Move what?" "Your goods! What if someone steals them later while they're left behind?" "Fool. Can't you guess what this place will be like in a bit? You couldn't invite a thief here even if you tried," the shopkeeper said. "Exactly. When people are hacking each other to death, who's going to be in the mood to steal?" the noodle shop owner next door chimed in as he locked up. "Heh, I'm going to carry your wok away in a minute," He Tangtang quipped. The shopkeeper's expression looked hurried. After walking a few steps, she turned back and said, "Xiao Ji, did you firmly remember everything I told you today?" Wen Jifei nodded vigorously. "Yeah, don't worry, Big Sis." *Swish!* "What's this, Big Sis?" Wen Jifei caught the object, realizing it was a key. "If you run out of places to run, use the chaos to duck into my shop," the shopkeeper said, turning and continuing on her way without looking back again. Wen Jifei pocketed the key. The group continued eastward. All along the street, crowds scurried away in the gathering darkness. "You're here? Why hasn't Boss Dao shown up yet?" At the eastern end of the long street, Old Hugh, who had been waiting outside first, breathed an internal sigh of relief. He raised a hand in greeting from a distance and called out the question. Subjectively, Old Hugh was convinced that these people were Dao Dali's true confidants. After all, they had been the ones to pass along his words last time, and an expert was very likely among them. "Boss Dao said that if the enemy fields a top-tier tonight, our top-tier will kill him. If no top-tier shows up on their side, neither will ours," He Tangtang shouted, following what Wen Jifei had instructed him to say. "...Oh. Understood," Old Hugh replied. Behind him, the leaders of the various gangs stepped out one after another. As the message was relayed among them, not a single person raised an objection. They were all seasoned veterans of the underworld who had carved their paths through blood and blade. Every single one of them understood that if they couldn't withstand even this, then even if their territory was established down the road, they wouldn't dare go hunting or collect protection fees. When it came to fate, they couldn't rely on others for everything—especially not this time, when they were backed into a corner and had drawn their blades to wage war against fate itself. The time was now 6:40. The ranks standing in the Third District stood in dead silence. The sound of their breathing billowed in the air, shifting from ragged and disjointed to a unified rhythm. The night wind carried sounds from three directions. In the distance, the faint yet dense footsteps of vast legions on the march drew near, and the roar of activating source energy apparatuses sounded like distant fireworks.