The Eastern Kui Dragon

Heavy, dark clouds obscured the moon, making Old Dunling appear exceptionally gloomy tonight. Towering buildings rose in clusters, resembling a twisted, hideous forest against the faint, shimmering light.

Zeppelins continued to patrol the night sky. Their bright lights cast down, yet they refused to share even a sliver with the Lower District. It was so dark here, so profound, that one could barely see a thing.

A curfew was in effect tonight. Every intersection leading to the Lower District was strictly guarded, but the sentries stationed there were not the mounted police; they were the Royal Guard, armed to the teeth. No one knew when they had arrived; by the time anyone realized it, they were already there.

Iron boots struck the damp ground, the cold, metallic clanging echoing through the deserted, deep alleys.

The soldiers wore red cloaks and were equipped with the Mechanical Institute's new "Dragon Roar" rifles. They were heavy cannons disguised as rifles; each time they fired, they unleashed a three-foot-long flame from the muzzle, followed by a roar like a dragon's as the heavy projectile tore through the air at high speed. It could pierce through an enemy and the deck behind them in one go. The weapon was originally conceived for siege warfare, and under its volley, stone-brick cover was as fragile as paper.

Iron whistles were held between their teeth, and from time to time, crow-like whistles rang out in the night, as if from the messengers of death.

"They won't step into the Lower District, right?"

Shrike asked, sneezing. It was cold at such heights. This was a high platform; its cover identity was a Steam Tower, but in reality, it was Shrike's watchtower. From here, the commander could see everything on the battlefield and issue orders.

Despite the surging, scorching steam, Shrike still felt cold and pulled his clothes tighter around himself.

"They are responsible for the blockade. Under the fire of those Dragon Roars, no one will leave the Lower District before dawn."

There were many things tonight that could not be made public, not even by the Royal Guard.

Galahad looked at the flickering lights in the darkness and spoke calmly, his gaze steady and cautious, as he always was.

"What if the enemy is numerous? With the onslaught of so many demons, can they hold them back?" Shrike was somewhat worried. The Lower District was adjacent to the Outer District; the so-called boundary between hell and heaven was incredibly thin.

"This is Old Dunling. We cannot let a single demon escape, nor can we even let them leave the underground palace."

Galahad knew exactly what was going to happen tonight. Not far in front of them lay a ruin-like structure, but both men knew that the Feast of Bliss was taking place beneath that very surface. The people there were lost in revelry, unaware that death was already at the door.

"This is the age of steam. The combined fire of our guns is enough to destroy any enemy. Do you remember those Winged Hussars who still clung to the old days? They traversed the continent, flexibly changing their armor—they could be heavy cavalry or light cavalry. They wore wings on their backs, looking like angels descended to earth during a charge."

Galahad spoke with disdain, sneering at that bygone era.

"But in the end, all they could do was be buried with the old era. Sturdy armor was nothing in the face of black powder. The last of the Winged Hussars were wiped out by artillery during their charge. Only their commander reached the high ground, but he was alone. The outcome of the battle was already decided."

"Shrike, this is the dawn of a new era. Even the Winged Hussars, once clad in heavy armor, fell at our hands, let alone those demons. They are relics of the old era and should just die properly."

Galahad's voice was as calm as ever. The faint light of the night illuminated his mask, and the scent of gunpowder permeated his body.

"It looks like many people will die tonight... I'm a bit curious, why did you choose to attack tonight? We haven't even uncovered the identity of that mysterious Duke. Doing this now is undoubtedly alerting the enemy."

Shrike looked down at his kingdom. This was a filthy pile of trash, and he was the Rat King. He knew exactly how many people would die tonight.

"There is no time left. We discovered the Plague Doctor's tracks. He should be at the Feast of Bliss right now. You know very well what he is capable of; if we wait, the situation will be beyond saving."

Shrike fell silent. He knew exactly who the Plague Doctor Galahad spoke of was, and tonight, Galahad was the commander; he was only there to assist.

"That great detective should be there too, right?"

"Yes. Without his intelligence, we never would have guessed that Sabo was helping them."

Galahad checked his pocket watch. The time had not yet come; there was still time.

"Can you still contact that detective? If you can, tell him to leave quickly. Tonight is not something a detective can get involved in."

"You intend to purge the entire underground palace?"

Shrike's expression turned cold. This would be a massacre.

"No one knows what the Plague Doctor might leave behind. Arthur's intention is to cut the weeds and dig up the roots."

After a long pause, Shrike sighed. He could not contact Lorenzo. The fastest communication in the modern age was something called a radio, but this technology was currently only equipped within the Purification Agency; the outside world didn't even know it existed.

Lorenzo could not hear Shrike's call. He was fighting alone now.

"It looks like your great detective is going to die there," Galahad said coldly.

"No, he's a scourge. People from the East often say that a scourge lasts for a thousand years." Shrike chuckled. He was full of confidence in that great detective.

"A scourge lasts for a thousand years?"

Galahad raised an eyebrow. He didn't quite understand this saying from the East. Even though the world had become incredibly small under the Midgard Serpent, that distant East remained a vague term to everyone.

Steam technology sparked a revolution, and the giant dragon coiled in the East was awakened by it. After Inverwig ended the Glorious War, the power of steam technology reached its peak. New steamships, war zeppelins, and various powerful cannons made their debut. Just when everyone thought no one could challenge Inverwig's status among the nations, the Eastern dragon arrived.

It was a misty morning. The crew members were checking the hull as usual, preparing to set sail, when endless waves began to surge, pounding the fishing boats as if a storm were coming.

Looking up, everyone saw the behemoth emerging from the thick fog. It was so massive that it seemed like a monster from ancient mythology.

It was a direct collision between two cultures. Many crew members were so terrified they froze in place. They had never seen such a large ship; even Inverwig's royal flagship looked like a toddler in front of it. What was even more astonishing was its construction. Steamships had existed for nearly a hundred years, but that great ship seemed to have sailed out of history. It used no steel at all; it was built entirely from sturdy wood, seamless and whole, as if carved from a tree that held up the world.

That was the great ship known as the Kui Dragon.

The upright sails blotted out the sky, embroidered with a coiled Eastern dragon. Hundreds of cannons protruded from both sides of the hull, and the bow featured a hideous dragon head. No one had ever seen such a creature and assumed it was the end of the world.

What was truly despairing was that at sunrise, as the damp mist dissipated with the sunlight and the sea became clear, people saw the ocean behind the giant ship. There were hundreds of ships just like it, hundreds of flags flying, like migrating red sparrows, a rain of fire burning the sky.

This was a fleet that spanned the world.

Panic and despair swept through Raindona Port in an instant, spreading all the way to the Platinum Palace in Old Dunling. Even though this Eastern fleet's weapons were decades behind, no one felt they could win this war.

This was the first time the people of Inverwig had seen people from the East. They thought they would be as terrifying as the legends, but the general named Zuo Zhen did not bring war. He walked into the Platinum Palace in his armor, saying he came with the Emperor's decree, and left behind gifts from the East. In return, the Queen gifted them the knowledge of the Mechanical Institute. Thus, these Easterners left Inverwig with steam technology, and they had not appeared on the horizon again in the decades since.

"A good person doesn't live long; a scourge lasts for a thousand years. That is the full saying. It means that those bound by their own moral principles usually don't live long, while those low-life scumbags without any principles are the ones who live to the end."

Shrike said this and pulled his clothes tighter again. There was no more steam venting; the condensed water droplets were exceptionally cold.

"Do you think he's a piece of low-life scum?" Galahad felt somewhat surprised; he hadn't expected Shrike to judge him that way.

"Yeah, only that kind of scum needs a new life to escape their past, and Lorenzo Holmes is one of them."

Shrike said indifferently.

"But it's precisely such people who manage to survive until the end. Don't worry about him, go ahead and attack; this detective will definitely survive."

Recalling the way Lorenzo looked when they first met, Shrike found it impossible to imagine what this disheveled man had actually endured. The nearly rotting wounds, the hollow eyes... that must have been a profound darkness, yet even then, Lorenzo had not died, let alone from everything happening tonight.

"Beep—beep—"

A sound suddenly rang out, and the radio communication device on Shrike's chest flickered with a faint light in the darkness. This was a new technology from the Mechanical Institute; they called it radio communication. As long as one held this device, they could receive messages even if the two were separated by the entire Old Dunling. It was faster and more mobile than a telephone, a tool that would change the battlefield, though it was currently only equipped within the Purification Agency.

Listening to the message conveyed through the device, Shrike's expression gradually grew grave. Although it was pitch black, Galahad could still sense the change in Shrike.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Four squads of mounted police tried to enter the Lower District, but they've already been intercepted by the Royal Guard."

Under normal circumstances, only patrolling mounted police would appear on the streets at this hour, but four squads appearing all at once was far too abnormal.

"Could Suaran Hall have been corrupted as well?"

For the first time, there was anger in Galahad's tone.

"No, it's that piece of scum."

Shrike was clearly even more furious than Galahad, and he cursed angrily.

"Hold the attack; there's an important target in the underground palace."

"What important target?"

Galahad was the commander for the night, and he didn't understand why Shrike would suddenly overstep his authority.

"That scum Lorenzo. He told me he could handle Sabo alone. I thought he had some novel plan. You know as well as I do, he was the one who single-handedly caused the Red River Massacre. He is a detective who peers into everything, but he can also become the perfect criminal."

"I finally know where that bastard's confidence comes from!"

Shrike explained, angrier than he had ever been. As he spoke, he reached for his revolver, only to remember halfway through that the gun was in Lorenzo's hands. He was already beginning to regret not killing Lorenzo.

"Half an hour ago, Suaran Hall received an anonymous letter containing an address and a name."

As he spoke, Shrike pulled a silver-white rifle from the darkness. It had an extended barrel and a high-magnification lens, with sharp protrusions along its slender body; when necessary, it could be used as a strange sword in combat.

This weapon came from the Mechanical Institute. It was a powerful conceptual weapon that could not be mass-produced due to cost issues. It rarely appeared on the battlefield, only because its master was Shrike, the King of the Underground. And when the King drew his blade, it meant a war that would decide everything.

"The address is the underground palace managed by Sabo in the Lower District, which is our battlefield tonight, and the name is Eve Phoenix."

Upon hearing that name, Galahad froze. For the first time, an emotion other than calmness appeared on the knight's rigid face. He held his head, paused for a long time, and then said slowly.

"Arthur will kill us all."