Setting Out for Destiny

At four-thirty in the morning, Red Quarter.

Layok suddenly appeared atop the roof of a residence, then vanished again like a ghost.

The next moment, he reappeared in the alley beside the house.

The moment after that, his clothes swept onto the broad avenue.

He darted and shifted, coming and going as freely as he pleased.

As the Black Street Brotherhood's most promising assassin, such movement was commonplace for Layok. His targets usually lost their lives in stunned bewilderment before they could react.

Except today.

Layok moved slowly, stepping over a pool of blood.

On the wide street, dark blood had nearly seeped into every crack between the bricks. Dozens of corpses lay scattered about, strewn in every direction. Some were Brotherhood elites wrapped in black silk; others were Blood Bottle Gang members wearing Red Scarves.

A light breeze lifted a piece of black silk from the pile of bodies, carrying a fierce howl of wind with it.

But Layok spun around like a startled antelope and roared at the black cloth flying toward him!

His body vanished once more!

When the assassin reappeared, he was already standing on the signboard of a shop across the street.

The wind died down.

The black silk fell limply to the ground, landing exactly where Layok had been standing moments ago.

Layok stared fixedly at the piece of silk, his eyes wide with fury.

It looked as though the silk had been chasing him, and he had been doing everything he could to escape its pursuit.

The faint sounds of fighting came from afar.

The assassin's clothes began to flutter—the wind was rising again.

The next second, the anxiety on Layok's face abruptly vanished, replaced by cold calm and ruthless ferocity.

In a flash, Layok hunched his shoulders and bent forward. His curved blade shot out from beneath his left armpit at an eerie angle, stabbing like an Amanba Serpent striking prey, lightning-fast toward his left rear!

Toward the air behind him.

Yet...

"Rip!"

The sound of cloth tearing rang out.

The breeze brushing his face suddenly shifted, intensifying sharply until the wind howled!

The assassin leaped from the signboard and rolled through the air, but his lips had already curled upward.

One strike had landed.

Layok touched down smoothly and silently, murmuring to himself.

"Rolf the Wind Ghost."

As the sound of wind gradually faded away, he softly spoke his opponent's name.

"We've finally met."

Layok raised his curved blade and contentedly touched the blood on its tip. The anxiety and anger had vanished from his face, replaced by a slightly crazed excitement.

The silence did not last long. Amid the returning wind, another voice faintly reached Layok's ears.

"So you're Layok, the Silent Killer?"

"That's quite a nice nickname."

It was an unfamiliar, effeminate male voice, drifting in from all directions with the rising and falling wind.

"Was your luck simply that good, or did you really sense my position?"

But Layok merely watched his surroundings in silence, maintaining his original stance without uttering a word.

The voice rang through the wind, clear as a hanging bell:

"It's a shame for an assassin like you to be in the Brotherhood."

As the wind subsided, a figure appeared on the road before Layok.

A blue-haired man in a gray bodysuit, his face marked with a tattoo, grinned as he touched his left collarbone.

A wound there was slowly bleeding.

The instant Layok saw his opponent clearly, his pupils contracted sharply.

His previous strike should have pierced perfectly through the man's heart.

He should have pulled the blade free the instant it ruptured the blood vessels in the heart chamber.

Yet...

His curved blade had merely grazed the man's collarbone?

Faced with this grinning man, Layok was startled for a moment.

But the experienced Layok quickly lowered his body, regained his calm, and silently prepared his next strike.

An assassin must always have absolute confidence that his next strike would kill.

Seeing his opponent's reaction, the Tattooed man—Rolf, known as Rolf the Wind Ghost—also grew slightly solemn.

Layok's gaze was dark and sinister. He stood perfectly still, like a statue rooted to the ground, like an old tree with deep roots. He made no sound, yet he was unsettling.

"Hm. Maybe you're not as weak as the rumors say."

Rolf snorted and nodded, spreading his feet slightly apart with a hint of wariness, acknowledging his opponent.

Layok remained as motionless as ever.

Their next clash seemed imminent.

But several seconds later, Rolf the Wind Ghost's expression changed.

"Forget it." Rolf turned toward another street. "Who would've thought Khalka would actually be taken out by Morris? Should I say that fat bastard really deserves to be one of the Brotherhood's Six Titans?"

Rolf turned back, narrowing his eyes at the still silent and gloomy Layok.

"I'm going to hide for a while, but don't misunderstand." Rolf the Wind Ghost snorted.

"Our game isn't over yet, Silent Killer."

The next moment, with a sudden gust of wind, Rolf disappeared before their eyes.

Layok maintained his original pose for a full three seconds.

Only after those three seconds did he slowly let out a breath, his taut muscles relaxing.

At the same time, Morris, one of the Black Street Brotherhood's Six Titans and the man in charge of the flesh trade, appeared around the corner with a vicious expression and a group of subordinates.

"Boss!" Layok immediately straightened and saluted Morris.

"It was Rolf the Wind Ghost." Facing Morris's questioning look, the assassin jerked his chin in the direction the enemy had gone.

The huge Morris nodded and casually tossed the person in his hand—or rather, the corpse—onto the ground.

The dead man was powerfully built, though he seemed to have suffered immensely before dying.

If Weird Doctor Ramon, the Brotherhood's personal underground doctor, had been here, he would quickly have concluded:

The muscular man before them was Khalka, the Battle Wolf—a Psychic Warrior from the nomadic tribes of the Kyseri Steppe on the Eastern Continent, and a core member of the Blood Bottle Gang.

Before his death, his lips had turned purple, the corners of his eyes were bloodshot, and his fingernails were pink.

The cause of death was... naturally, suffocation.

"Did you find the others?" Morris asked gravely.

He stepped over Khalka's corpse, showing none of the joy one might expect from eliminating a powerful Blood Bottle Gang enemy.

Layok forced himself to drag his attention away from the corpse and shook his head heavily.

"No. But I encountered invisible obstructions in several places. Sometimes they were in front of me, sometimes behind me, as if... the air had suddenly solidified."

"We were forced apart and had to take separate routes in the hope of regrouping."

"Air?" Morris's eyes narrowed slightly.

The assassin gestured as he spoke, his tone heavy with concern.

"Yes. At first, I thought it was you, Boss, but that would be too..."

Layok carefully glanced at his superior.

"I suspect there's another powerful Psion in the Blood Bottle Gang whom we don't know about, someone with abilities similar to yours. And he made his move tonight."

Morris said nothing.

He only frowned tightly.

Several seconds later.

"That isn't a psychic ability."

"No one's innate psychic ability can achieve something like that."

Under Layok's puzzled gaze, Morris clenched his teeth, his expression ugly. "That was an Air Wall."

"The one who acted was an Air Elementalist."

Layok froze.

A Magic User?

An Air Elementalist?

One of the Blood Bottle Gang's two leaders from the rumors?

Layok tried hard to recall his impressions of Magic Users, only to discover in surprise that through years of gang life, he could not find a single clear detail related to them. His memories were filled only with rumors and legends.

The Blood Bottle Gang's Magic Users.

They were like... like the Black Sword of the Black Street Brotherhood.

Remembering the legends surrounding the Black Sword within the Brotherhood, Layok could not help feeling uneasy.

For this supposedly foolproof surprise attack, the Brotherhood had gathered nearly all the elites from Everstar City's headquarters, organizing them into groups and seeking to strike without warning and kill in one blow.

Yet right at the start of their assault, the Brotherhood's elites had been scattered by several immense forces and raging winds. The Air Walls Morris spoke of had mysteriously appeared throughout Red Quarter, splitting the Brotherhood's powerful elite forces in an instant into a Hydra whose head and tail could not aid one another.

And in the poems sung by Minstrels, the monster Hydra Kilika had ultimately been killed by Hero Nekaroo, who chopped off every head one by one.

So the one who had scattered them with such bizarre methods was the Air Elementalist, whose name had been heard for years but who had never been seen?

Layok curled his lips, and the curved blade in his hand trembled excitedly.

Not every Brotherhood operation gave them the chance to encounter one of the Blood Bottle Gang's legendary leaders.

This was a rare opportunity.

But he failed to notice his superior's expression.

"Fucking rotten luck..."

Morris, the Brotherhood's obese titan, spat bitterly, a deep and complicated expression appearing on his face.

Morris was far less calm inside than he appeared. He listened to the constant sounds of fighting around him, identifying their directions.

"This should have been a brilliant battle where we gathered our elites and took Red Quarter by surprise, but..."

Morris snorted coldly.

"After such a huge commotion, the West City Vigilance Hall responsible for security here has shown no reaction at all—they were probably bought off. And all of Red Quarter is this empty... Damn it, the Blood Bottle Gang ambushed us."

Besides...

Morris clenched his teeth. His mind raced without pause, and his heartbeat gradually quickened.

The Air Elementalist.

That Guy had come.

That Guy.

But tonight, the Air Elementalist should not have been here... it should not have known about this...

"We have a traitor." Morris spat viciously.

"When we get back, I'm going to squeeze Lancer's lungs out. What kind of garbage intelligence was that?"

Layok wisely lowered his head and did not join his superior in cursing another of the Brotherhood's Six Titans.

But...

The legendary Air Elementalist.

How was the boss planning to deal with him?

Layok was eager to try.

Yet...

"Since the enemy is a Magic User..."

Morris took a deep breath, suddenly turned around, and shouted his order.

"Then we retreat!"

The moment he finished speaking, Layok and the others all looked up in shock.

Retreat... retreat?

Morris spoke without allowing any doubt. "Our operation to attack Red Quarter has failed completely."

Failed completely?

Layok could not believe his ears.

They had encountered an unexpected situation...

But.

They had only just begun, hadn't they?

And besides, they had drawn out one of the enemy's leaders...

"Spread out and pass the order to all our people: abandon the targets, return by the original routes, and break out with all your strength!" Morris gritted his teeth viciously.

"We're going back to Black Street!"

Layok stared blankly at his decisive boss.

Several entire months of preparation...

Such a tremendous cost...

They were giving it up just like that?

The Air Elementalist...

Unstoppable doubt and resentment rose within Layok.

Was the Air Elementalist really that terrifying?

Yala looked at Tales, the expression on her face gradually fading away.

It seemed as though a long time had passed.

But Tales only stared at her without moving.

Until she let out a breath and lowered her head slightly.

"You little brat."

Yala's face remained blank as she gazed at the dim floor of the cellar.

Making Tales afraid to even breathe too loudly.

But the young Barmaid soon spoke.

"You, you... has anyone ever told you..."

Tales listened intently.

"That you're very mature for your age?"

This time, Tales froze.

Mature for his age?

Well...

Think, quickly. How did the Transmigrator seniors get through it whenever the locals became suspicious?

The boy scratched his head, blushing as he said awkwardly,

"Hehe, am I that mature? Haha, um, Yala, I get what you mean, but I'm still enjoying the single life right now. I don't really want to..."

"Ding!"

Yala's expression twisted instantly, and she viciously jabbed a finger into Tales's forehead!

"Kid, know when to stop!"

"And call me Sister Yala!"

Tales rubbed his aching forehead, but a memory surfaced before his eyes.

It was a warm, sunny afternoon.

"Wu Qiren! Dota 2 won't stop running just because you're gone! Know when to stop already!"

"'Know when to stop'... Why do you keep saying the same thing lately?"

"Hey, that's a famous line from anime! Of course I have to... Why are you queuing for another match again?"

"Ah, a friend asked me to play together. It'd be rude to refuse!"

"With your Dota skills? Pah! Know when to stop already!"

"The same line again... Hey, my gaming mouse!"

Tales rubbed his head and buried that memory deep in his mind.

What had been going on lately? The memory flashes were becoming more frequent.

It wasn't a bad thing, but they always came at crucial moments...

Tales shook his head. Looking at Yala, whose expression had changed, he spoke bluntly.

"My demands aren't much. We just need to pass through the Red Quarter, escape into Blood Bottle Gang territory, and from then on, we'll take care of ourselves."

Yala paused slightly.

"No one will know about you, Yala. You won't get into trouble! It's the night before dawn, when the darkness is deepest. From the Lower City District to the Red Quarter, helping us evade the Brotherhood's eyes shouldn't be a problem for you."

Yala looked at the hopeful Tales, her face darkening slightly.

"Why the Red Quarter?"

Tales's heart jumped. There was hope.

"On other turf, the Brotherhood might notice us the moment we appear. But the Red Quarter—the Red Quarter is the border between the Brotherhood's territory and the Blood Bottle Gang's. It's our only chance to escape!"

"And the Brotherhood will definitely need time to clean up the mess Quade caused at the Ruined House. By the time they react, they won't be able to chase us past the Red Quarter!"

At that moment, the confident and resolute Tales curled his lips into a faint smile.

"Hah!"

Yala sighed and closed her eyes.

"While the Ruined House draws everyone's attention, you head straight for the Red Quarter. Mm, that counts as a plan."

"With my skills and experience, it's not impossible to distract the Brotherhood's watchmen."

When she opened her eyes again, her gaze had suddenly become sharp and calculating, fierce and terrifying.

As if she had become someone else from the past.

Even Tales rarely saw Yala like this.

"But once you reach Blood Bottle Gang territory, you think you'll be safe? You might fool the Brotherhood with this trick for a while, but not forever."

Yala looked coldly at Tales.

"The Black Street Brotherhood has countless capable people and overwhelming strength. Even the Blood Bottle Gang, which stands against them, is at a disadvantage. Once they find Quade and remember you, it'll only be a matter of time."

"And after that? Where else can you go? As long as you remain in Everstar City, the Black Street Brotherhood will always find you."

"Even if you leave Everstar City, how do you know the Brotherhood's influence won't be even more terrifying and unrestrained outside it?"

Yala's words seemed to strike Tales directly in his weak spot.

Tales swayed, his face pale.

Right. His plan did not reach that far.

His abilities were limited, and his wisdom had its limits.

He had no way of predicting what came after the Red Quarter.

But...

They had nowhere else to go, didn't they?

They had only one choice.

Only the Red Quarter.

"That'll be our problem." The boy forced out stubbornly.

Yala—the sharp, ruthless knife-wielding Yala, not the lazy and indifferent Barmaid Yala from before—shook her head fiercely.

"Impossible."

Seeing Yala still shaking her head, Tales grew desperate.

To win Yala's help, he had already used every trick he had...

He could not fail.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the children, and his fists clenched tighter.

He couldn't!

This wasn't Football Manager!

He couldn't fail!

Tales raised his head and spoke with difficulty.

"I know this request is excessive, compared to providing us food and drink, compared to giving me a dagger. But please, look at those three children over there. All their hope is in this tavern! Yala, please help me! And..."

Yala raised an eyebrow.

"And..."

The boy was extremely reluctant to say what came next.

To him, this was naked coercion and torment.

But...

Tales took a deep breath. There was no other way.

"And you owe me a favor, don't you!"

Tales said resolutely.

"Huh?"

Yala looked somewhat surprised, but then she burst out laughing.

The Barmaid drew a Wolf Leg Knife from her leg and placed it in front of Tales.

"A favor?"

"You mean you once suggested I modify my weapon into this shape, and you think that counts as a favor? Fine, it does count, but aren't you taking far too much advantage of that favor?"

Looking at the Wolf Leg Knife, memories of Yala surfaced in Tales's mind.

That had happened a long time ago.

"Yala, Yala! I thought of a way to help you butcher that dog faster!"

"Hey, kid, how many times do I have to tell you? Call me Sister Yala! And Morris's damn dog is already in your stomach. If you want to stay alive, stop shouting about it everywhere."

"Yala! This one! Look at this picture!"

"Eh! This knife's shape and curve... Where did this come from? It looks rather interesting."

"It's called a dog-leg knife! Believe it or not, it's a weapon from another world!"

"Pah, pah, dog-leg? What a terrible name. Even if I use it, I'm giving it a better, more impressive name! And call me Sister Yala! And what other world? Stop going to watch plays at the Midnight Temple. Everyone there is crazy. Be careful you don't watch yourself stupid!"

Thinking of that, Tales shook his head and drove the memory away.

Firmly, he slowly spoke the next words one by one.

"No. It's not because of that favor. It's because... because you provoked Quade into becoming like this, made him lose his mind and go mad, caused the beggar children terrible casualties, and forced us to flee. That's the favor you owe us."

Tales finished those words heavily.

The words fell.

Yala's eyes widened.

The Barmaid stared at him in disbelief, her beautiful eyelashes trembling incessantly.

"You, how did you..."

Tales had felt uneasy inside.

But seeing Yala's expression, he finally became certain of his judgment.

"Yes."

Tales nodded, his heart heavy.

"You injured Quade's hand, didn't you? When he attacked, he cursed while calling out your full name."

Thankfully for his injured hand, Quade hadn't killed me in the first round.

Tales thought heavily.

"I don't know what happened, but perhaps Quade came to the Sunset Tavern to drink before, offended you somehow, and then for some reason he went mad and lost his mind, rushing into the Ruined House and slaughtering... slaughtering half the beggar children."

Of course, there were still many suspicious details, such as Rick, who had never appeared, and the thugs who had vanished overnight.

Tales's gaze darkened.

"Right?"

"So, did tonight's events have something to do with you?"

At that moment, Tales truly saw the trembling in Yala's eyes.

Damn little brat.

Yala cursed inwardly.

But the Wolf Leg Knife in her hand kept trembling, betraying her feelings.

Too clever by half.

They were only a few dozen beggar children...

Yala trembled inwardly, hardening her heart as she tried to convince herself.

I'm in a gang. Right, I'm bad. I, I kill and burn and commit every evil imaginable. How could I, how could I care about such a small, small...

Her grip on the Wolf Leg Knife tightened and tightened.

Yala took a deep breath, her thoughts in chaos.

No.

Those people...

Those beggar children...

It wasn't, it wasn't me who killed them myself. It had nothing to do with me... nothing.

Yala clenched her teeth hard, emotions churning in her eyes.

It was all Rick, that damned accountant.

It had nothing to do with me.

Nothing!

But...

Did it really have nothing to do with her?

Yala's vision suddenly blurred.

She seemed to see a blood-covered infant wrapped in an expensive blanket.

In that instant, her heart became so heavy it could barely pump blood.

"So please, help the four beggar children still standing before you," Tales's words pulled her from her memories.

"Because this is... this is the favor you owe us."

Tales felt intensely uncomfortable, but he still forced himself to say it.

Yala fell silent.

The Barmaid shut her eyes tightly and silently slid the Wolf Leg Knife back into her boot.

Tales's heart pounded with unease.

"Of course, if the Wolf Leg Knife's design counts as a favor too... then, then add that in as well. The more debts you have, the less you worry about them."

Tales forced a smile, trying to ease the oppressive atmosphere.

It had little effect.

Time seemed to pass for a long while.

So long that Tales could not help clenching his fist, digging bloody marks into his palm.

The three beggar children in the distance began to tremble.

The silence dragged on, almost suffocating.

Finally, at long last, in the dim, cramped cellar, Yala slowly opened her eyes.

Her gaze was indifferent, calm and still.

"Kid."

She gently raised her head.

Tales's heart tightened.

"You really are a special child."

Yala silently watched him, her expression complicated and unreadable.

"You always strike straight at other people's weak points."

"Quade probably died the same way—killed by you in a single blow."

Her voice was strangely weak, filling Tales with unease.

But the Barmaid's next words plunged Tales into an icy abyss.

"But it's useless..."

Yala spoke one word at a time.

"Even if I were willing to help you, to sacrifice my life to protect you..."

And every pause felt as though it were taking Tales's life.

"You still won't be able to cross Red Quarter."

In that instant, Tales's entire body went rigid.

"Because tonight, the Black Street Brotherhood is going to attack Red Quarter and assault the Blood Bottle Gang."

"It's already begun."

"Tonight, Red Quarter will become the most terrifying battlefield in Everstar City."

Time around them seemed to convulse, taking a long while to return to normal.

"You..." Tales came back to himself.

His lips trembled as his face drained of color.

"What did you say?"

Yala sighed.

"So give up. You know it too—now that Red Quarter has become a battlefield, no matter how capable I am, even if I possessed strength like Wrath of the Kingdom, I couldn't possibly take four battered children through a clash between two underworld giants."

Yala spoke despondently.

"Impossible."

Tales stared at Yala in shock for several seconds.

He mechanically turned his head and looked again at the three children in the distance, who had almost finished the bread.

When Colia saw him looking, she even happily waved at him.

Four-year-old girls always forgot their pain easily.

Yet...

Yet.

Tales dazedly turned his head back.

"Don't worry," Synti said from afar, licking the crumbs from his hands and patting Lane, who was still terrified.

"Tales will help us escape."

"Yeah, Tales is the smartest," Colia added cheerfully, raising the half piece of bread in her hand.

"He can do anything!"

Lane clutched his severed hand. Though tears filled his eyes and he endured the pain, he still nodded with hope.

But on the other side of the cellar, before Yala, the boy who carried the beggar children's confidence and hope drew in a despairing breath and buried his face in his hands.

"How could this happen..."

"Why would the Brotherhood attack Red Quarter today..."

"Why tonight..."

"It shouldn't be like this..."

The boy muttered to himself, trembling uncontrollably.

Yala watched him silently, wanting to speak but stopping herself.

"An accident, another accident..."

"We can't go anywhere else at all..."

"Other than Red Quarter and then West Ring District, the Brotherhood has informants and eyes everywhere..."

"Unless we head straight for Lower City First District, take the sewers from there, and go to Ghost Road. That's Iron Bat Society territory..."

"No, the Iron Bat Society surrendered to the Black Street Brotherhood long ago..."

"Go back to Ruined House? Destroy Quade's body..."

"Impossible. The other children already know..."

Tales's face was ashen, his lips pale, cold sweat streaming down his forehead.

"They'll find us eventually..."

"What do we do..."

"What do we do!"

Seeing the boy like this, Yala could not bear it.

The Barmaid shook her head and patted his shoulder.

"Stay here with me," Yala sighed. "I have people I trust who can hide you for at least a month. But no matter what, Quade is dead. They'll definitely come looking for the killer."

"I can go find Old Man," Yala paused, speaking with difficulty.

"The Brotherhood values Old Man's reputation. You... at least you won't die."

Yes.

But we'll surely be worse off than dead, the hopeless Tales added inwardly.

"Sometimes," Yala said, watching Tales's dejected state and reflecting that even this clever boy had reached the end of the road, "we have to accept our fate."

Tales's vision suddenly blurred again.

"Qiren... sigh, she's gone. You, you... you need to restrain your grief... sob..."

"I... I'm fine. Don't worry... Don't worry, Auntie, I'm fine... I'm really fine."

"I know, Qiren. Heh, sometimes we have to accept our fate. Since she's gone, this is a hurdle we must overcome. No one is exempt, heh."

"Auntie... you... she..."

"We have to accept our fate... sob... accept it... sob..."

Accept my fate.

What is my fate?

To cross over into this world, only to be slaughtered?

Am I supposed to just accept it?

Ridiculous.

I read so many books.

Did so much research.

Wrote so many papers.

How could I possibly accept my fate!

Tales suddenly lifted his head, startling Yala.

The Barmaid discovered in astonishment that the boy had changed.

His eyes were now filled with resolve and fury.

"Kid, are... are you all right?" Yala asked tentatively.

Incredibly, under the boy's gaze, she felt the urge to look away.

Tales suddenly said, "The Brotherhood will definitely look for the killer, right?"

Yala narrowed her eyes. "Mm?"

"They need a killer." Tales spoke flatly, as if discussing something insignificant.

"But they only need... one killer."

Yala frowned.

This kid...

Tales looked at the three beggar children in the distance.

The boy took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled.

"They stay here with you."

Yala froze completely.

"All three of them stay. You have to stay too, so you can protect them. You need to tell the Brotherhood what Quade did, then tell them that you happened to come across these three beggar children."

Tales spoke without emotion, as though everything before him had lost its color.

"I'll make sure the three children have their stories straight. I will be the one—the one who 'alone' killed Quade."

Tales's face remained expressionless, but he emphasized the word "alone."

"What?" Yala cried out in surprise.

But Tales ignored her.

"And these three children are merely innocent beggar children who got separated while fleeing. With Sunset Tavern's influence, I believe you can protect them," Tales said in a tone that allowed no argument.

"When the Brotherhood asks, tell them exactly that... Tell them to come find me. To find Tales, the black-haired boy."

"To find the one who killed Quade..."

"The only killer."

Silence.

A silence beyond words.

Until Yala raised her eyes in disbelief.

"Then what about you? You want me to hand you over?"

Tales shook his head.

"I'll leave by myself."

For some reason, Yala suddenly realized that the ragged, small, scar-covered boy before her had made up his mind.

And no one could stop his determination.

No one.

But...

"Don't be stupid, kid."

Yala gritted her teeth and frowned.

"You can't even get out of Lower City District."

"The Brotherhood doesn't only deal in things that can't see the light... From beggars to shopkeepers, from thugs to street vendors, from drifters to country farmers, their eyes and ears are everywhere—concealed and extensive."

"As soon as dawn breaks, the Brotherhood's people will catch you and bring you back."

"Then you'll only regret it. You'll regret not begging me to kill you right now."

She could not let him go throw his life away like this.

After all, he was only a...

Yala looked at the boy with a complicated expression.

...Kid.

Tales turned his head, and the dead stillness in his eyes was frightening.

"Yeah."

Tales spoke coldly.

"I probably can't escape."

In fact, ever since opening his eyes in this world, after spending one year at the Brotherhood's base outside the city and four years in Lower City District, he knew the Brotherhood's methods and capabilities all too well.

But...

Tales first looked at the three beggar children, then met Yala's gaze directly.

"But they can survive."

The coldness faded from his eyes, leaving them clear and relieved.

"They won't have to endure the pain Quade left behind."

No. Quade had already left them pain they would never forget for all eternity.

He said silently.

But at least...

At least...

Tales clenched his fists.

Yala's expression shifted, and her mouth fell open.

"Kid, you..."

Tales did not answer.

But the next second, the Barmaid reached out and placed both hands on his shoulders. She did not look at him, instead turning her face away.

"You..."

And Tales could feel that Yala's hands—those hands renowned for their steadiness and precision...

Were trembling slightly.

"You will... you will... you will be..."

Tales's expression darkened.

But he raised his head, his gaze reflecting the Eternal Lamp in the distance like brilliant fireworks.

The boy's heart suddenly calmed.

No.

He still had one place he could go.

The only place.

The boy slowly curled his lips.

I'd known it all along, hadn't I?

At that thought, Tales snorted with laughter.

Fate, oh, fate.

What a bitch it was.

Wasn't it?

He looked at the three children who had just finished their bread and were gazing over hopefully—children who were no longer beggar children.

Tales turned back, looking steadily yet calmly at Yala.

"It's four thirty. Dawn will break soon. Tell me everything I need to watch out for."

Tales spoke softly, facing Yala's grim face and bloodshot eyes.

"I should be going."

Yala's heart trembled, and she blurted out:

"Where are you going?"

Where could you go?

Tales paused and drew a deep breath.

Where?

"Of course..."

The next moment, in Yala's eyes, that sly, detestable kid parted his lips, dimples appearing as he revealed a bright, cheerful smile:

"Red Quarter."

Notes:

1. Football Manager—the "football_manager" series of football management games. Players often feel this way: no matter the tactics, mentality, lineup, or public opinion, I've done everything I possibly could—but no matter how many times I reload, why can't I beat the opponent?!

Faced with Yala's refusal, Tales felt the same helplessness.

2. Little Bull—also known as Earthshaker, a selectable hero in Dota 2. His ultimate is a pure damage skill: the more enemies gathered within a certain range, the greater its damage. Casting it amid a large enough crowd could even turn around a team fight that was certain to be lost, so the timing of Earthshaker's entry and ultimate was crucial. Waiting too cautiously for the crowd to gather in order to maximize damage, hesitating too long, or casting too late could mean missing the chance to win the fight; but casting too early in a sparse crowd out of impatience could also be a pointless waste.

Faced with Yala's refusal, like Little Bull caught between two difficult choices, Tales chose the latter—risk and decisiveness over hesitation and caution.