Abo is a water ghost, bound to the River Thame, including the tributaries that join it upstream. Strictly speaking, his territory is much larger than Abin's.
Including those tributaries means that during the heavy rain season, Abo's territory will expand further.
Londan's drainage outlets connect to the mother river. Even without heavy rain, Abo can move freely through the sewers. Apart from the strong smell of domestic sewage and the excessive heavy metals in industrial sewage, there is nothing else wrong with it.
“Disgusting. Did you just step in shit?” Wayne said with disgust.
Abo immediately retorted. Although he was already dead, he still kept the good habit of caring about hygiene. He had come through the flood-control drainage channel, not the foul-smelling sewers.
This reminded Wayne that Abo was a living map of Londan's sewers, knowing their layout better than anyone.
Of course, the butler Fra was no slouch either.
As the one and only excellent butler in Wayne's eyes, Fra knew many tunnels that were not connected to the River Thame, as well as air-raid shelters and private underground passages reserved for the rich—all of great strategic value.
With Abo as a living map, Wayne felt more confident about controlling the sewers and promptly changed his schedule.
During the day, he would catch up on sleep and his diary. At night, he would stay in the sewers the entire time, familiarizing himself with the terrain while searching for elemental compatriots who had taken refuge there.
Don't be afraid, fellow elementals. I'm Wayne. I'm here to save you.
When it came to life essence, Wayne had to complain: the four elements satisfy life essence, but this accumulation process suffers loss. It does not keep rising all the time.
The most direct loss comes from using magic—basic magic related to the four elements.
Every time Wayne used basic magic, such as Earth Wall, it consumed the earth element stored in his body.
According to the theory in the book, all mage apprentices are like this. Before the hexagram is lit and connected, their minds have not undergone a qualitative upgrade, so they cannot directly harness the free elements outside. This is a process every mage must go through.
So Wayne rarely used elemental magic anymore.
When other people used up the elements in their bodies, they could meditate for a while to replenish them. He could not. There were too few supply captains. Where could he find a second Lord of the Void!
Actually, he could still use them. With precise control of his thoughts and by reducing the proportion of mana modulation, basic magic would not consume much of the four elements.
To put it bluntly, if Wayne took a breath in the sewers, the consumed four elements would be replenished.
But he did not want to.
That was squirrel syndrome for you.
Wayne had an obsessive-compulsive habit of hoarding supplies. It had been like that even before he transmigrated. He had stockpiled many things he thought were useful. Even when time proved them useless, he could not bear to throw them away, firmly believing he would use them later.
His hoarding did not happen only in reality; it also happened on the internet. His favorites, shopping cart, hard drive, and cloud storage—whenever he thought something might be useful, he would subconsciously collect it.
For a while, he had even become obsessed with categorizing and organizing: Japanese and Korean, European and American, classical xianxia, and anime subculture. This meaningless behavior made him happy.
If asked, he would say it was better to be prepared.
In summary, Wayne's squirrel syndrome was terminal and incurable. Without the internet, he began collecting magic-related things: pistols, crowbars, brass knuckles, the four elements, and magic books—he accepted everything.
One could imagine how enormous his warehouse would become one day.
Abo led Wayne through the sewers, pointing out iron ladders and exits as if counting his treasures, explaining which road or street was above and what landmarks were nearby.
Wayne's memory was astonishing, but his sense of direction was average. After circling several times, he began to get confused.
He rewove a memory network. His brain processed the information, summarized it, transformed text into images, and deepened the impression. A map of Londan divided into upper and lower levels gradually became clear.
“Above us is a bar controlled by the Black Snake Gang. Following the councilor's instructions, the gang leader Johnny has restrained his men. They are lying low and no longer expanding their territory. They've been very low-key these past few days,” Abo said, pointing at the manhole cover above.
“I'm not interested in small fry. Take me to the councilor.”
Wayne said from horseback, “The Black Snake Gang is a dog raised by the councilor. Without the councilor's support, they're nothing. Instead of laboriously feeling our way up step by step, it's easier to deal with the councilor directly.”
But that wasn't what you just said! You even made me make a list!
Abo felt helpless. How could he know that Wayne wanted to wander the sewers a few more rounds? He simply assumed that, because the undead were not human, Wayne was free to torment the disobedient undead underlings in whatever new way he liked.
Abo did not say it aloud. He changed direction and continued leading the way.
This suited Abo's wishes. The Black Snake Gang were the councilor's lackeys and claws. If the councilor deserved to be shot a hundred times, the gang members deserved to be shot at least fifty. But deep down, Abo hoped this social trash would die under the sanction of the law.
Compared with mysterious death, criminals being punished by the law was more satisfying, and it could make the public believe that justice and fairness still existed in the world.
Not justice linked to the mysterious, but justice closely tied to reality. The public did not need to pray for the gods' mercy; they only needed to make a phone call to receive legal aid.
The reverse was also true. Gods were too distant and too hollow; their deterrent effect on criminals and villains was far less than that of the law right before their eyes. Both involved judgment, but judgment by the gods was more like lofty principles meant to guide people toward good, while judgment by the law was real, tangible violent deterrence.
Abo hoped that after the councilor's death, his master would hand the councilor's lackeys over to him to deal with. Without the councilor's protection, the lackeys who lost their umbrella would never be able to turn things around.
He would use the iron fist of the law to punish this gang of villains and warn other villains: when committing crimes, they should weigh the consequences and think clearly—whose head was harder, theirs or the bullets?
As he led the way, Abo spoke these thoughts aloud, trying to sound out Wayne's attitude. Unexpectedly, Wayne readily agreed.
Huh? Could it be that beneath the master's evil exterior there was a completely opposite heart of justice?
Wayne saw what Abo was thinking and sneered coldly, “Well said. But why choose only one of the two? Why not seize both and keep a firm grip with both hands?”
“Master, I do not understand what you mean.”
“You are right. Gods are too ethereal. They are faith, a moral concept. They can restrain good people, but they cannot scare bad people. We cannot expect bad people to have morals. Preaching high principles to them is far less effective than taking them for a walk to the execution ground.”
Wayne said, “But some bad people do not fear the execution ground. For example, Councilor Doreen, whom we are about to meet. She has the ability to make the law fall silent. She knows she will not be sent to the execution ground; many big shots will pardon her crimes. In that case, we flexible types need to switch to another way of countering violence with violence.”
“The law is fair by design. Some people think they are special and outside fairness. Then agree with them, and tell them what true unfairness is.”
“Heh heh heh—”
When he finished, Wayne let out a hearty laugh. In short, it was the other side that had struck first.
Abo was silent. He felt that his master had opened a new door for him. But soon, he frowned and said, “If you, master... No, I mean, if I keep carrying out this idea, my original intention will gradually change because of the reckless power. By then, I will also think I am special, even more excessive than them. The dragon slayer eventually becomes the dragon. I will think I am a god, that I am above everything and can dominate everything. What should I do then?”
“We'll deal with it when the time comes.”
“……”
————
Councilor Doreen had a rental apartment in Inner Londan. It was not large, mainly to project an image of integrity.
In fact, she only lived in the rental when canvassing for votes. Usually, she lived in a large mansion in the West District, and her neighbors were all councilors.
A classic case of one face in public and another in private.
Abo pushed open the manhole cover and emerged. Water dripped from his trouser cuffs as he walked step by step toward the councilor's house.
Wayne looked at the exit and felt somewhat stumped. He could get out, but Yulia...
Yulia snorted, leaped, and crashed into the wall. Rippling purple arcs of light spread across the wall, and a spatial gate opened, carrying Wayne to the surface.
Abin followed closely and jumped out.
Wayne looked at the ground behind him and saw the skeletal owl flap its wings and fly out. He raised his arm and caught it. “Yulia, I didn't know you had this ability.”
“Master, you never asked.”
“I told you not to talk back to me.”
Wayne jumped off the warhorse, released the owl, and strode to the front door of the mansion. He said sourly, “Money can be earned again once it's gone, but once conscience is gone, there is endless money to be made. She used to be a small newspaper reporter and switched careers halfway to become a politician. In just a few years, she earned this much. How enviable!”
Abo shuddered and hurriedly said, “Master, she has fallen into depravity. You won't.”
“Depravity can't earn this much money. Abortion is more like it,” Wayne said subconsciously. After saying it, he suddenly realized something and felt he had detected the truth.
Abo was speechless. Maybe it really was possible.
Wayne reached out and grasped the doorknob. The corrosive power of death surged out, and the door opened easily.
There was no loud noise of picking locks, and no fingerprints were left. Not even the doorknob remained. Without evidence, the police could not catch him. Wayne liked the Death Knight's alias more and more.
It was just that the alias name was a bit unsatisfying. If it were Dark Knight, it would be perfect.
The mansion was pitch dark. Councilor Doreen was not home. He found the safe containing cash and ledgers. Wayne helped open it, and they divided the loot on the spot. Abo got the ledgers, while Wayne got the money bearing the Queen's head, as well as jewels and gold.
Abo was stunned.
In his subjective impression, the master was a lofty knight who wandered in darkness, his body rotting, his spirit still adhering to chivalry. He treated money like dirt and was unmoved by feminine allure.
As it turned out...
He did not know if it was an illusion, but he saw a smile on the skull-like head.
Abo said nothing. When turning in loot at the police station, it often shrank significantly after passing through several departments. As long as the decisive evidence remained, all of this... was tolerable.
He took a deep breath, sat down on the sofa, and concealed himself in the dark shadows, waiting for Councilor Doreen to return home.
Click!
Wayne turned on the light, clasped his hands behind his back, and looked at the artwork on the wall. He did not understand art much; he only knew that artworks were often tied to speculation and money laundering.
“Master, can you turn off the light? It will scare the councilor away. We should...”
“You should go check the basement. The councilor is home. Her basement is quite large,” Wayne said without turning his head.
Abo was startled for a moment, then quickly walked toward the basement.
In the center of the corridor behind the living room was a door. Pushing it open revealed a staircase extending downward until it disappeared into the darkness.
Abo's eyes could see very clearly in the dark. He found a hidden door in the basement. After gently pushing it open, he saw that inside was another world.
Underground, there was a very long corridor, covered with bright red carpet and decorated with murals and wall lamps. Every seventy or eighty meters, there was an exit—or rather, an entrance.
Abo analyzed the positions of the villas on the surface. His heart turned cold. Then, thinking of the missing girls kidnapped by the Black Snake Gang, the coldness dissipated, and his entire heart was filled with the flames of anger.
He stepped onto the carpet and followed the scent of perfume in the air to a door that resembled a meeting room.
Double doors stood there, with a coat rack beside them, hung with seven or eight coats and top hats.
Abo picked up a hat and put it on his head, pulled the brim low, then pushed open the doors with both hands and entered.
The meeting room was decorated even more luxuriously. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, made up of over a hundred delicate crystals, illuminating the entire room.
Beneath the chandelier was a carefully arranged round dining table, about five meters in diameter, covered with white napkins and fine tableware.
In the corner stood a gramophone rich with a classical atmosphere, playing soft music.
The perfect blend of elegance and luxury, plus a glass of champagne, would surely make an excellent banquet experience.
But one thing did not fit the overall layout of the dining room. On the wall facing the door were painted strange symbols. Curved lines outlined a figure that looked like a person covered all over in tentacles, or perhaps an octopus holding up tentacles.
The simple image was too abstract. At first glance, it looked like blood graffiti, and Abo could not immediately tell what totem it was.
He did not pay attention to this scene and coldly fixed his gaze on the guests gathered for the meal.
Including Doreen Johnny, whom Abo had been investigating, there were eight councilors present. They leaned back in soft sofa seats, eyes closed, humming softly along with the rhythm of the music. Each of them maintained an official smile, serene and amiable.
The councilors were so absorbed in the music that they could not extricate themselves, and they did not even notice that someone had pushed the door open and entered.
Abo looked intently at the dining table and slowly breathed a sigh of relief. There was none of the disgusting food he had imagined on the table; there were only precious ingredients, all of them Frankish cuisine.
“Doreen Johnny, you are under arrest!” Abo said coldly, preparing to ask where the missing girls were being held.
Councilor Doreen did not answer. She was swimming in the ocean of music, a satisfied smile on her face.
Abo frowned deeply. The scene felt familiar. The eight councilors were wandering beyond the heavens, as if they had taken some prohibited substance after the meal.
“Their minds are not in their bodies. You cannot wake them.”
Wayne walked into the dining room and looked at the strange pattern on the wall. He had seen similar patterns in magic reading materials, and they were related to the faith of an evil god.
The mature female teacher provided magic reading materials about evil gods to prevent students from making bad friends and becoming involved with unknown people. Worried that too much detail would arouse curiosity, the magic reading materials had few records about evil gods. Only a few lines were written: Blood Faith.
This was an evil god residing in Hell, distinct from the two goddesses of Darkness and Death, and one of the main enemies of the Holy See of the Heavenly Father.
To some extent, the evil gods of Hell were primitive and savage, and their terror far surpassed that of Darkness and Death.
Chapter 71