After breakfast, the members of the Wild Band Alliance returned to their camp en masse to rest.
The hospital would be busy around the clock. The shops along Third District's street would still open for business during the day, and the entire city would resume its daytime routine.
It would go on as it always had, or perhaps small changes would begin to take place—now that those people from the valley had held their ground through the first night...
People couldn't help but begin considering seriously whether the landscape here might shift in four days, and whether some districts would change hands.
Yet the likelihood of that was exceedingly slim. For the high-end combat power capable of truly deciding this war had not made a move last night.
"Father." Lynne entered through the door carrying her apparatus and weapons, her eyes slightly bloodshot after going a full night without sleep.
"Good morning, my dear," Old Charles answered with a smile, turning around as he dismantled his apparatus.
Lynne froze for an instant. She had caught sight of the blood on her father's chest, and even his white mustache was spattered with red. He looked as though he had endured a brutal fight.
"What is it?" Old Charles looked down. Seeing the blood on himself, he understood. He looked up with a smile and said, "It's your Uncle Al's blood."
"Uncle Al, he...?" Lynne remained anxious. Uncle Al was Jenna's father, and Jenna was the one who had once made an offer to Ah Jing, as well as Lynne's best friend.
"He banged his nose. His big nose slammed into an iron window grille, you see? He always gets overly carried away. He had a massive nosebleed last night, coating his entire chest, and in the end had to be carried back on a stretcher."
Old Charles chuckled as he finished speaking. Stowing his gear, he sat down, accepted a cup of hot coffee handed to him by a servant, and took a sip.
Lynne finally relaxed—though perhaps not entirely... She hurried over with breakfast, sat across the table, and said, "I heard the Wild Band Alliance won?"
"Ah... perhaps." Old Charles frowned slightly. In truth, the current situation was far worse for him than he let on.
As an affiliated faction of a major power, if his gang threw everything into a bloody fight and suffered heavy casualties, it would collapse on its own. Yet if the Wild Band Alliance actually triumphed, looking at the proposed redrawing of territorial lines, his gang might lose every single property they currently held.
*Then we might have no choice but to relocate, leaving behind everything we can't carry.*
Old Charles pondered. The Berlik Gang didn't actually have that many assets to begin with; losing all of this would force them to start over from scratch in many ways.
And that was assuming the Wild Band Alliance wouldn't seek further retaliation afterward.
"By the way, I ran into that boy you mentioned, if I'm not mistaken," Old Charles brought up on his own, describing Han Qingyu's appearance... Without looking up, he said, "He rashly showed up right in front of our formation all on his own..."
"What?! Then did he—"
Lynne grew anxious. It was a strange feeling; she so naturally didn't want him to die. In their brief encounters, he had always unabashedly calculated every coin, clutching tips in his hands with greedy excitement.
His unyielding, straightforward demeanor coupled with utterly shameless greed was utterly endearing.
And right, his profile resembled The King. Lynne had almost forgotten that most important point.
"He's fine, of course. After all, your old father Charles is said to lack the courage of his youth simply because he fears his only daughter."
Old Charles laughed. He didn't use the opening to crack any wild jokes about things like his daughter falling in love... If matters really took such a turn, it wouldn't be a good thing at all.
Lynne breathed a sigh of relief.
"Will the fighting continue?" she asked.
"Of course. There are still four days left," Old Charles said.
"Tonight?"
"Who knows? Maybe tonight, or maybe they need to reorganize. You've probably heard too—the enemy's resistance was far more stubborn than anyone imagined. But I don't have the authority to attend their meetings, and after returning this morning, they didn't send any notice to subordinate factions like us."
Perhaps there would still be fighting tonight. Old Charles took the last bite of his whole-wheat bread and rose to his feet. "I'm going to get some rest. Remember, do not leave the house today."
That evening, the second night of Culling Day, nothing happened.
The third day. The third night.
At the far end of the long street, a dilapidated truck rattled slowly by.
"Is it possible they've given up?" Lubi Azha asked from within the waiting ranks.
"Put the energy you spend daydreaming into thinking about combat—or even eating," Uncle Shiliang said, his face and tone equally stern.
A gentle wind drifted through the darkness...
One hour passed. Two hours.
Lubi Azha heard no footsteps, nor any roar from source energy apparatuses.
Yet—"They're here."
Perception of frequencies also depended on grade. The vibrations undetectable to most of them had been sensed by the bosses... Boss Hugh's voice lacked the fiery excitement of the first night. Raising his head, he said in a low, heavy voice, "Get ready."
*Hum... whir! Shhhk!* In the silence, row upon row of long blades left their sheaths.
Azha felt a surge of excitement.
"Not you," Uncle Shiliang said. "Stay put and wait here. Don't let your guard down."
Up ahead, Boss He Guang said, "Move."
Only eleven men silently charged out behind him, including Uncle Shiliang. Out of the more than one hundred men in the He Guang Gang, only this handful went.
Across the field, each wild gang sent only around ten people to follow their boss, and the weakest among them, the Black Tooth Gang, sent just four.
There seemed to be only one explanation: it was pointless for the rest to go. If they went, it would be nothing but a one-sided slaughter.
"Who are they?" Lubi Azha felt uneasy without Uncle Shiliang at his side; he had never experienced a scene like this before.
A veteran teammate beside him glanced at him and was just about to speak.
*Boom-hum...* The thunderous detonation of a source energy apparatus erupted not far away, rippling outward in waves until the air across the entire sector vibrated in resonance. Once. Twice.
Top-tiers were attacking—two of them.
Then came a succession of sharp, shrieking howls. Top-tiers had arrived with their elites.
For the bosses of the Wild Band Alliance, tonight was their true gamble: betting on just how strong Dao Dali really was.
*Clang! Bang!* At the first clash, dead iron struck dead iron... The figure of Boss Black Tooth came flying out of the alley and crashed heavily to the ground less than three hundred meters in front of the thousand-man battle formation.
Five seconds later, drenched in blood, he pushed himself up using his blade... Turning his head, he shook it to stop his gang members from rushing over... Then, coughing up a few mouthfuls of blood, he staggered back toward the alley.
Deep inside that alley was an enormous, traditional Eastern courtyard, a place where Marshal Hua had reportedly once stayed.
"That's a fight on a whole other level," the veteran teammate beside him said.
Everyone knew the City of Iniquity harbored top-tiers, and even supers. They weren't particularly rare, but those who had actually seen them fight at full strength were exceedingly few.
The Five Great Factions naturally possessed top-tiers as well—and more than one.
"Yeah." Knowing Uncle Shiliang was in there too, Azha's heart leaped into his throat. Subconsciously, he asked, "If you go to slash someone and they just hoist you straight up, is that person a top-tier?"
"How the hell would I know?" the veteran teammate replied.
...
"I'll go."
Not far from the edge of the old courtyard, atop the district's tallest clock tower, Zhu Jiaming voluntarily rose to his feet. Glancing at the others beside him, he said earnestly, "Is that strange? I just figured that since Qingzi and Wu Xu haven't fully recovered yet, it's my turn to pull my weight."
"Go get 'em, mighty Little Prince," Wen Jifei laughed.
Zhu Jiaming turned and leaped forward.
*Boom!* The colossal roar of an aerial collision erupted a second later...
*Whoosh... clatter-clatter-clatter-clatter!* Flurries of roof tiles came hurtling from the distance, raining down in large sheets upon the main street, smashing to pieces on the ground before Lubi Azha and the others.
It was combat beyond their imagination.
Yet the crowd was still thrilled...
"Our top-tier has made his move! We have a top-tier!"
"Yeah, must be Boss Dao, right? But then he has to take on two at once..."
*Boom!* Another crash rang out.
Everyone looked up. In the faint moonlight, a figure in full armor bore down with the crushing momentum of Mount Tai, cleaving an enemy straight toward the ground.
Those outside could not see the whole picture, but inside the courtyard, the gang bosses and elites stared upward with tears welling in their eyes... *We have top-tiers. Two of them.*
*Actually, there might be three.* Judging by the silhouettes, Old Hugh could tell Ah Xi hadn't even struck yet.
Chapter 469