From the Upper Echelons

Cold.

Jovan pulled his jacket tight, zipping it all the way to the top in an attempt to ward off the chill of Nostramo.

Clearly, he failed. His efforts achieved nothing beyond catching his chin in the zipper.

"Fucking freezing," Jovan muttered, rubbing his chin. "How much longer do we have to wait?"

His companion, a man with a bloated belly, shook his head. "That depends on when those big shots decide to show up."

"Are you serious?!" Jovan exclaimed. "If they never show up, are we just supposed to wait here forever?!"

"Shut your trap, Jovan, and keep it down. If the other teams hear us complaining, you want to guess if they'll tell Mr. Malai afterward?"

Jovan nodded reluctantly. He crouched down in the attic of the house—which had been occupied until recently—lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag.

The stinging sensation of the potent chemicals burning made him squint his eyes in instant satisfaction.

"The stuff from the Old Town is the best."

Jovan said in a low voice, "Except for being fucking expensive, it doesn't have a single flaw."

"Expensive? Did they raise the price again?"

"Yeah," Jovan nodded.

"I went to buy some three days ago with Old Hammerhead. The kid selling it didn't give us any lip, either. Old Hammerhead told him to lower the price, and the bastard actually told us to get lost if we weren't buying."

He chuckled, exposing his yellow-brown teeth to the air. "Can you believe he talked to Old Hammerhead like that?"

The fat man nodded, looking thoughtful. "No wonder Old Hammerhead was all bruised up. He got beaten, right?"

"Yeah, the bastard got punched by Old Hammerhead right after saying that. I was about to jump in too, but then—"

Jovan shrugged, laughing with a hint of schadenfreude.

"Six guys popped out of that godforsaken alley, all armed. I decided to play it by ear. Old Hammerhead got a beating, and if I hadn't stepped in, he'd probably have been dragged off to see Doctor Pogrev by now."

"Pogrev died half a year ago, you idiot."

The fat man said dismissively. "The guy was carved up. Some say it was that Vengeful Spirit or whatever. I think that's unlikely; Pogrev offended too many people. Anyone could have killed him."

"Really?"

Jovan raised an eyebrow in shock, though he quickly returned to normal. "He hurt so many people who came to him for treatment, it's only natural someone got him."

"He deserved it." The man snorted. "He wouldn't buy from the butcher shop, just kept eating the brains of the idiots who came to him for stitches."

At this, he sneered. "But whoever killed him is treating us like fools. Everyone knows that Vengeful Spirit is just a story made up to scare children."

"True."

Jovan laughed lowly as well. "Though, come to think of it, I don't think Old Hammerhead's beating was entirely for nothing."

He grinned, holding up the cigarette in his hand and waving it at the man to show off.

The fat man curled his lip, not really wanting to engage with Jovan.

He knew full well that Jovan's "stepped in" probably deserved an eighty percent discount, and the same likely went for how he acquired his goods.

Jovan certainly wanted the goods, but once he heard the price, he definitely stopped wanting to acquire them through purchase.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but look down at Jovan, whose current nonchalance suddenly made the man feel a bit annoyed.

"Bang!"

"Hey—Barry, why the hell did you kick me?!"

"Get up, you idiot."

Barry cursed under his breath while kicking him again. "Do you have any idea who might be coming today?"

"I'm getting up, I'm getting up, stop kicking. Who's coming? It's just those young masters and misses who like to come down here for a bit of fun, isn't it?"

Jovan irritably brushed the dust off his backside caused by Barry's kick. "At most, they've got a higher status, otherwise we wouldn't be standing guard here all night. But what does that have to do with us?"

He grew more animated as he spoke, even waving his arms excitedly. "We're just the fucking dogs they keep anyway!"

"You'd better watch your mouth, Jovan."

Barry's face changed, looking incredibly grim. "Everyone knows that, but nobody goes around shouting it like you do. You want to guess why?"

"..."

"And put that fucking cigarette out. The smell of Old Town goods carries a long way. If you don't want those old bastards who can smell it coming over to bum a smoke, put it out."

This time, Jovan obediently complied.

He was still quite submissive to Barry; after all, Barry was the only person he knew well who had actually survived one of the Great Purges.

Furthermore, he was acutely aware of exactly what he had just said.

"Let me tell you something, Jovan."

Barry spoke again after a brief silence. He took a step forward, his bloated belly brushing against the attic windowsill. He raised his hand and pointed toward a spire not far off in the night.

"See our base? Listen close. Mr. Malai usually calls it 'Honor.' Do you know why he calls it that?"

Jovan shook his head.

"Because that's what the Skolevok Family gave us!"

Barry turned his head, eyes widening with ferocity as he continued his lecture to Jovan. Because of this, he missed the two shadows that flickered past the window.

"During the last Great Purge, we paid with our lives to trade for a third of the Quintus New District for the Skolevok Family. And that twenty-five-story spire? That was the reward they gave us!"

"And our guns, our vehicles. Our connections, and the reason you took that idiot Old Hammerhead to the Old District to get free goods without getting yourself killed—it's all because of the Skolevok Family!"

He turned around, closing in on Jovan step by step, pinning him against the wall and landing a heavy punch. Watching Jovan collapse to the floor in agony, Barry sneered and spoke again.

"So you'd better keep it quiet and serious for the rest of the night, understand? The people coming tonight aren't just some ordinary young masters and misses; they are the fucking heirs of the Skolevok Family!"

Jovan gasped in pain and nodded. Barry returned to the windowsill, satisfied, and resumed his watch. Somewhere far beyond his line of sight, a massive, pitch-black vehicle was speeding toward them.

"Vengeful Spirit."

A young man with a pale face and powdered lips chuckled. He wore a lace-trimmed bodice and had long hair draped over his shoulders, looking every bit the dissolute young dandy.

"Do you really not find that name ridiculous?" he asked, clearly amused.

The two young women sitting across from him responded in different ways.

The woman on the left, who bore a long scar across her face, sneered, "If I were you, I would wisely keep my mouth shut until I saw the truth of the matter, Jando. The Underhive has all sorts of things in it."

"Oh, oh, the Underhive has all sorts of things in it—!"

The young man called Jando mimicked the woman's voice in a high-pitched tone before bursting into laughter. "So, does that include a vengeful ghost, then?"

The woman on the right shook her head. She was dressed sharply in riding breeches and a dark-patterned, pale purple top. Though simple, she maintained an air of aristocratic grace.

She said with authority, "Don't be so insolent, Jando. You haven't been granted the Black Mark by Father yet. Show some respect to your sister."

"Fine, Irene Skolevok, my noble sister." Jando grinned. "But I just think this whole thing is ridiculous. Honestly, it's just too funny."

"Funny?"

The scarred woman sneered again. "A family coroner is dead, and you think it's funny? Jando Skolevok, you pathetic ghoul."

"Hey, I don't eat corpses, Lena Skolevok."

"You are a disgrace to the family," Lena said coldly. "The Skolevok Family has never had a direct heir who loves those base, lowly things as much as you do."

"Don't be like that, Lena."

Jando spread his hands helplessly. "Aren't the people in the Underhive human, too? They look no different from us, and their anatomy is the same. If you don't believe me, you can come to my basement later. I'll give you a free demonstration."

"Let's talk business."

The sharply dressed Irene interrupted them with authority. "Coroner Manelli is dead, and we will seek justice for her. However, there is another matter for this trip."

"What matter?" Jando asked. The smile had vanished from his face.

"The death of the priest of the Church of Rest, Lazarus Lohars."

Lena Skolevok frowned sharply. "That traitor from the Lohars family?"

"Yes, Lena. Coroner Manelli's patrol was not just for collecting taxes, but also to investigate his death. And she died immediately following Lazarus."

Irene shook her head slowly. "Clearly, something is wrong here."

Jando narrowed his eyes. "With this happening on the eve of the Great Purge, it's hard for me not to think in that direction..."

Irene nodded noncommittally. "Perhaps other families are playing tricks behind the scenes, but we have no evidence yet. Everything requires seeing for oneself and conducting an on-site investigation."

"You've actually got me looking forward to it now."

Jando put on that frivolous smile once more.

"Also, my respected sister Irene, once I obtain the Black Mark and Father's favor, I will definitely have a taste of you. I imagine you would be quite sweet."

He took a deep breath, looking satisfied. Lena frowned in disgust, but Irene Skolevok—

She remained completely unmoved.

Thank you all for the tips and monthly votes, thank you, thank you.

Thanks to the author of Warhammer: I Don't Want to Be a Stinky Can!!!, Ku Deng Ye Hua, for the recommendation. Although I'm sure everyone has already read this work, I still have to recommend it. This book is substantial and satisfying, the writing is solid, the highlights are outstanding, and the characters are full of soul—in short, it's all pros. Everyone go read it now! (Shouting)

By the way, I don't know how to post direct links, oops.

Also, the update time for this book is pretty hellish, right? (Laughs)