The storm continued. Just as Mulan had feared, although Valentine was hardly a dry place, it had never experienced such prolonged, intense rainfall. With its densely packed buildings and runoff pouring in from the surrounding areas, flooding began throughout the city despite the water constantly draining toward the sea.
Compared with the previous few days, the wind had weakened considerably, but the rain only seemed to grow heavier. Even the street where the Jonester home stood had begun to flood.
Beside the warm kitchen fireplace, Leo had fallen asleep in a reclining chair. Old Buck was cleaning the kitchen, while Mulan stood alone in an upstairs room, looking through the window at everything near and far.
The water on the street outside was already fairly deep. The underground drainage system seemed to have stopped working entirely. Though the water slowly flowed toward the harbor, it could not keep up with the constant rainfall and runoff from higher ground.
Cold, strong winds, torrential rain, flooding-even under such dreadful conditions, Mulan could see pedestrians on the street outside. Everyone knew they should not go out in weather like this, but they had no choice. Not every household had ample supplies, and after so many days, many had already run out of food.
Some carried umbrellas, some wore raincoats, and others had rain gear of varying degrees of shabbiness as they waded through the cold. In weather like this, the floodwater had to be bone-chilling, and those outside ranged from children not yet grown to white-haired elders.
Their rain gear was nowhere near enough to protect them from the downpour, but to survive, those who could no longer hold out at home had no choice but to venture outside.
Some homes had even flooded. After all, outside the Jonester home, the water had already risen to the second step.
At that moment, Mulan felt as though he had glimpsed another side of Valentine: beneath the prosperous facade of this great port city were ordinary, hardworking people struggling to survive...
Perhaps many people like Mulan, or those living even better than he did, were watching through their windows at that very moment, each with different feelings as they looked at the people exposed to the rain-fellow people of Dierjia, fellow residents of Valentine.
Mulan's feelings were complicated. He was grateful that he could stay warm indoors in weather like this, without worrying about food or clothing. Yet he also felt sympathy for those outside, while understanding how little he could do.
After all, the Jonester household was not actually wealthy. Even the vest Old Buck often wore had patches, and a considerable portion of Leo's wages, the family's main source of income, went toward rent before the remainder could cover their living expenses.
Mulan gazed down the flooded street. Here, no one would come in rescue boats to help the people. No one would distribute supplies. They could only rely on themselves.
Yes, his Motherland in the twenty-first century was not perfect. She had all sorts of problems, some acute, some less so, but in times of crisis, everyone was willing to trust her-and could trust her.
"Young Master Mulan, Young Master Mulan..."
Old Buck's voice came from outside the room. Mulan opened the door and stepped out to find Old Buck calling from the foot of the stairs.
"Young Master Mulan, we only have some potatoes left. For dinner, would you prefer boiled potatoes dipped in salt, or roasted potatoes?"
Reality immediately dealt Mulan a merciless blow. It turned out he was not much better off himself.
"Grandpa Buck, boiled potatoes will do."
"All right. I'll call you when dinner is ready."
Old Buck returned to the kitchen, and Mulan went back to the window. But the moment he glanced outside, his gaze sharpened slightly. At the far end of the street, three figures emerged from one side of a crossing alley, then entered the other side and vanished behind the houses.
Although it was still pouring, although the three had appeared in his field of vision only briefly, and although he had not even gotten a proper look at them, Mulan remained certain that he knew two of them. They were the two young pickpockets from the Princess Niseriel.
This was not merely a visual judgment. Some instinct was also at work. Spending time with those two youngsters with distinctive traits during a tense situation seemed to have left Mulan with a peculiar impression, allowing him to recognize them without seeing them clearly.
"Why are they here? Who's that woman leading them?"
Mulan had not seen the boy or girl again that day, even when he disembarked. He had assumed they had long since left Valentine aboard the Princess Niseriel, yet here they were in this torrential rain.
An urge to investigate immediately rose within him, and the instant it did, he rushed out of his room and headed toward the stairs.
"Grandpa Buck, something's come up. I need to go out right away."
As he spoke, Mulan had already reached the entrance and begun getting dressed. He put on his trench coat, changed into the high-topped military boots he had brought home when he left the service, then draped a hooded rain cape over himself. Finally, he grabbed his cane and prepared to leave.
"Young Master Mulan, what are you going to do?"
"I spotted someone I know. I have to go take a look. Don't wait for me for dinner."
Without waiting for Old Buck's reply, Mulan opened the door and rushed straight into the rain-drenched world.
Splash, splash...
Wading through the water created some resistance, but it did not affect Mulan much. He had encountered worse conditions during the war, so his long strides carried him forward at nearly a jog.
Judging by what he had seen upstairs, the three were not moving very quickly. After following the street for a while, Mulan reached the intersection and soon spotted the three figures, who had not gone far.
Wiping the rain from his face, Mulan confirmed once more that his eyes had not deceived him. But then he glanced back toward home, hesitating over whether to continue the pursuit.
There was still no news of that deranged murderer. It was hard to say whether he knew about the Jonester home or might risk doing something insane. Though he was unlikely to come out in this foul weather, Mulan had never considered him a normal person.
If Mulan were home, he was confident he could deal with the wounded murderer. But outside his firing range, the injured Leo certainly could not, and Old Buck was no longer young. Though Old Buck had taken the place of their dead father and trained Mulan and Leo in the traditions of the Jonester Knight Family since childhood, when he went out that night, his mobility had clearly been far worse than it once was.
As Mulan hesitated, a beautiful melody interrupted his tangled thoughts.
"Hmm~~~~ ah~~~~"
Mulan's pupils dilated, and he turned to look at the three retreating figures again. He would never forget that melody or that humming. Though extremely faint, the sound clearly came from the third person in the distance.
"A Siren?"
At that moment, Mulan had already reached inside his coat and gripped the Ring of Light.
Just as panic swept over Mulan, someone in the attic of a building on the street corner pulled a trigger.
Bang!
An uncanny instinct surpassing that of any wild beast made Mulan draw inward slightly. He reacted instinctively the instant danger arose, throwing himself forward almost simultaneously with the gunshot.
Thud!
A faint numbness passed through Mulan's shoulder. He had already plunged into the water, rolled to his feet, and pressed himself against the wall of the opposite building. Drawing the Ring of Light, he scanned a nearby doorway and the surrounding windows, weighing whether to break inside or guard against danger bursting out.
"Tch, I actually missed!"
In the attic, the gunman discarded his rifle and immediately headed downstairs with only his pistol, making no attempt to fire a second shot. Upon reaching the second floor, he jumped straight out of a room's rear window.
Splash!
The gunman landed in the flooded street behind the building and hurried away. At the same moment, Mulan detected his escape, instantly turned toward the house's front door, and kicked it hard. The tremendous force knocked the door open.
Even as his gaze swept over the bloodstains inside, he charged up to the second floor, raised his gun in one direction, and fired.
Bang, bang, bang...
A ring of light burst from the muzzle, and three bullets caught up with the gunman in an instant. Though his reactions were likewise frighteningly fast, he had not expected Mulan to move so quickly or shoot with such speed and accuracy. Despite twisting and dodging with bizarre movements, he still took a bullet in the side of his thigh.
The hit made him stumble, but his speed did not diminish at all. He darted straight into an alley to one side.
Without hesitation, Mulan leaped from the second floor, landing in the flooded street amid a spray of water before charging ahead.
Now Mulan could hardly spare a thought for whether there was a Siren. Even if there really was one, he would leave that concern to Valentine's authorities or the Holy Temple. Right now, he had to take down that gunman, who was very likely the deranged murderer he had fought that day. After all, he was the only person in all of Valentine who hated Mulan to the bone.