Qiao Er walked slowly along the plank walkway. As it swayed to and fro in the clouds, it gave him the dazed feeling that he was still a child on a swing.
He had already buried his old name.
He was called "Qiao Er" because when he woke up back then, he was hanging beneath the second arch of a bridge in his hometown... and had thus escaped the slaughter.
There was little to say about the past. It was nothing but hatred.
He had lived in Linzi for a long time. Most of the time, he simply went about his ordinary life, occasionally venturing out to do a few things.
Such as recording intelligence, spreading rumors, or killing a few people...
In this city of sin, built atop bones and drenched in blood, there were others like him. Of course, he didn't know who they were, and they didn't know who he was. The only thing they could be sure of was that they weren't alone.
Because information was always being passed along.
Deep in the heart of this vast empire, they were secretly building a "home" of their own.
Of course, the flow of information had been interrupted before, and not infrequently. It had happened when Cui Zhu assassinated the Emperor, when Zhang Yong wept at the shrine, and when the Xia Kingdom sold out the organization's leaders.
They were challenging the existing order of this world, and every one of them knew exactly how powerful their enemies were. Lately they had been targeting the Qi State, but Qi was only one of their enemies.
They would encounter every kind of difficulty.
And no difficulty could make them stop.
Whenever the flow of information was cut off, it was always restored again soon afterward.
Especially his line: it