Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 671 Stupid Fish
This is a dilapidated warehouse at Pier 7 in the Emerald City Canal District.

In the center of the warehouse, many prominent local "bosses" took their seats around a large round table. They had different appearances and dressed in different ways. Some had fierce and menacing faces, while others wore glasses and looked refined. Some were dressed in luxurious clothes and looked wealthy, while others were dressed in tattered clothes and looked unkempt.

"Abu, I heard you guys made a fortune off the grain dealers?"

"Make money my ass! Those miserly grain-dumping bastards hire us to do all sorts of heartless work. Last week they pretended to be the baron's men to intimidate the farmers, this week they pretended to be troublemaking farmers to smash up the estates. They're utterly despicable..."

"Hey, don't let Montero hear you say that. He's one of those sworn brothers who dumped the grain..."

The "bosses" present clearly knew each other. Good guy Tommy whispered to his neighbor Taremi, discussing business in hushed tones. "Barber" Balta joked with his men, laughing out loud from time to time. Gamandia, who managed the gambling den, glared fiercely at all the bosses in the room. "Stage supervisor" Franco and "newspaper vendor" Zeca exchanged barbs.

"Hey, Zeka, you're still alive? I thought the water ghouls had swallowed you long ago."

"Yeah, how about this, to celebrate that I'm still alive, I'll take you to the high seas sometime, like a movie?"

"How boring it is on the high seas! Tsk tsk, what's it like underwater?"

"Hey, you two, put your paws away. A toothless dog should stop barking..."

As the host, Duro, sitting among them, smiled and tried to join the conversation, but the bosses treated him coldly, ignoring him after greeting him, leaving Duro feeling extremely embarrassed.

Each boss brought one to three assistants or followers. They either leaned against the warehouse wall or sat on the abandoned shelves. But compared to the bosses' relaxed and indifferent demeanor, these people kept their distance from each other, their eyes were wary, and their expressions were unfriendly.

"No, they're very nervous."

Behind Duro's seat, Golov leaned against the wall, observing his surroundings and sensing something was amiss.

As the strongest leader, Fogg sat silently in the best seat, not uttering a word. Meanwhile, the people in the warehouse were all watching, intentionally or unintentionally, a guest who shouldn't have been there—a man in a dark red coat, grinning broadly.

The other bosses sat side by side, but no one approached the man in the red coat; there was no one on either side of him.

"That's right, it's the first time I've seen so many bosses here, I was so nervous..." Zimicas said excitedly, directing his underlings to serve tea and water, although most of them were rudely refused by the guests.

“But they’re not you, they shouldn’t be nervous.” Golov tightened the bandage on his arm.

Zimicas was taken aback, then said angrily, "Hey, you newbie, where's your manners? Is that how you talk to your seniors?"

In this atmosphere, behind Golov and Zimikas, Midila Rolf sat in a corner, head bowed deeply.

This is the Blood Bottle Gang.

Amidst the noise, he silently spoke to himself.

He is back.

Finally came back.

"Oh damn, the barber's here too. I've never gotten along with that guy..."

"Me too. Black Silk detained one of my men, and I wanted to ask him for some information, but he actually said he didn't have any. Damn it, he's playing me for a fool..."

"It was supposed to be the Jade Festival, a time when we should be making money hand over fist, but instead... damn, what bad luck."

"Since your business is doing pretty well, when will you do some favors for the brothers?"

"I went to find the local bullies, but those fat-headed bastards didn't want to care about anything. I even gave them a gift according to the rules, but they were completely useless when it mattered. They're bastards who take money and do nothing..."

Rolf breathed in a daze, listening to the bosses, some grinning and some looking fierce, talking about topics that seemed familiar to him.

He knew what this place looked like.

I also know what kind of people are here.

Dark, cruel, hypocritical, despicable, shameless, outside of order, something that cannot bear the light—

Wow, Rolf, you're a member of the Blood Vial Gang now, things are different!

Hey, when that boss heard Rolf had teamed up with the boss, he was terrified and ran away with his tail between his legs!

Serves him right! Who told him to treat us so badly before? Humph, from now on we'll go to his shop and cause trouble every day!

Rolf trembled as he heard the familiar yet surreal voice in his ear!
what happened?

Ghost of the Wind subconsciously looked up, but those in the warehouse were all local Blood Vial gang members from Emerald City.

No one was calling him.

Nobody knows him.

Nobody cares about him.

no one.

Rolf realized what was happening and felt a pang of loss and sadness for a moment.

After all, he's no longer here.

however……

[Rolf, I heard there's going to be a big event on Red Street tonight. What do you say, are you in?]

Red Town Street?
In that instant, Rolf felt his heart skip a beat.

【Ghost of the Wind, your mission is simple: harass, relocate, harass again, relocate again, completely divide them up in Red Town Street…】

A ghost that flies with the wind.

Rolf's hand, which was holding the prosthetic limb, was trembling slightly.

[Hey, Rolf, why is there so little of you? What, is Catherine chickening out?]

[Rolf, I heard you've caught the eye of a big shot in the gang? So, is our gang's backer a super rich woman or a landowner? Could she really be a magician? The kind who can do magic tricks?]

In the midst of the chaos, Rolf was momentarily unable to distinguish between the past and the present. The familiar noise around him combined with his memories of the past, making it difficult to separate them. It was as if he was sometimes the silent and cold-blooded mute Rolf, and sometimes he had transformed back into the smug and frivolous Windwalker of the Blood Bottle Gang.

[Right now, there are two Black Silk spies who are the most prominent: one is called 'Steel Cone,' and the other is called 'Silent Killer.' They're so arrogant, tsk tsk. Ghost of the Wind, what do you say?]

[Hahaha, did you see Spin and Dorno's faces? They've been assigned to stand guard! Stand guard! Haha!]

[Seriously, I heard it when I was out on leave! Big Sister Catherine said that once Rolf has enough seniority, she'll give you control of the southern suburbs! You'd better look after your brother!]

[Rolf, you're so young and already so amazing, when will you become the number one in the Blood Vial Gang?]

Snapped!
Back in reality, Rolf looked up in surprise and found that it was Golov who had patted him.

"Are you alright?" the zombie asked, frowning. He glanced at Zimicas in front of him and awkwardly added, "Uh, Teto, little brother?"

Is he okay?

Rolf nodded, letting go of the illusory echo in his ears and returning to reality.

of course.

He's fine, of course.

The atmosphere in the warehouse was broken by the next sound.

“blah-blah-blah, blah-blah-blah,” a sinister and cold voice rang out from one end of the round table, “You Emerald City, you drag out a meeting for so long, are you waiting to hand out candy?”

Upon hearing that voice, Rolf unconsciously held his breath.

No.

No.

The warehouse fell silent, and all eyes turned to the speaker—the man in the dark red coat, sitting alone and languidly at one end of the round table with a malicious expression.

The leaders exchanged glances, and one of them made a gesture. His men behind him understood immediately, tugging at their sleeves and stepping forward to shout orders:

"Hey, you outsider, what the hell did you say?"

As a guest, the man in the dark red coat simply smiled and remained silent, but several of his ruthless subordinates stepped forward without fear to confront them, saying, "Boss can say whatever he wants!"

"Holy crap, no wonder he's from the capital," Zimicas muttered, rubbing his hands together as he was squeezed into a corner. "So arrogant, he must be really good at fighting!"

Golov snorted.

"All right."

Just as the dispute between the two sides was about to escalate from verbal sparring to shoving, "The Wanderer" Fogg, who had been silent around the round table, finally spoke up: "I still have a tank of fish to feed at home, let's get started."

At this point, Ferguson paused, looked up at the two groups clashing, and gave them a peculiar look:

"Oh, or is it that one of you wants to help me feed the fish?"

These words seemed to have some kind of magic; the venue immediately fell silent, and the two groups of people, who had been at loggerheads, reluctantly retreated and dispersed.

The guest in the dark red coat frowned and gave a muttered snort.

Ferguson calmly took out his pipe, and his attendant stepped forward to light it for him.
"Now that the fish, oh, I mean most of the people are here, let's begin."

Duro waved his hand, and Zimicas hurriedly shooed away the servants (whom he had hastily taken in over the past few days) who were serving tea and water. But just as he was about to chase Rolf away, Golov slapped him on the shoulder, making Zimicas wince in pain, and he had no choice but to give up.

Ferguson took a drag of his cigarette and calmly looked at the guest in the red coat opposite him: "Let's welcome our guest first. Yes, you've all seen him: Mr. blah-blah-blah from the capital. I suppose he's here to give us candy?"

A few scattered laughs echoed from inside the warehouse.

The guest in the red coat squinted, while his entourage behind him wore unfriendly expressions.

“Nice joke, Fogg. I rarely come to Emerald City, so some of you may not have seen me, but that doesn’t matter,” the guest laughed, his expression gradually turning serious. “In fact, I come from the capital, and my name is Nekra. Of course, some people also call me ‘Red Viper,’ ha, ‘someone.’”

Nekra.

Red viper.

The warehouse fell silent, then a rustling of whispers could be heard.

"See! I knew I wasn't wrong!" Zimicas said triumphantly.

“I know him,” Golov whispered to the mute man beside him.

Rolf nodded absently, feeling himself trembling slightly.

The Wind-Walking Ghost tried its best to control its emotions so as not to affect the surrounding airflow.

"So it's the famous Boss Nekra, welcome."

At the round table, Gutierrez, the lean and ruthless man in charge of underground boxing, cracked his knuckles and said coldly, "I have a small question: I heard that the nickname 'Red Viper' was given to you personally by Black Sword?"

Ferguson's eyes flickered.

Amidst the considerable commotion, the Red Viper shrugged.

“Hey, it’s not that mysterious,” Nekra laughed. “More than ten years ago, on the night Black Sword killed Losang and Boss Turnbull, I was lucky enough to survive.”

These words caused an even greater commotion in the warehouse.

"Look! Even the Black Sword couldn't kill this big shot!" Zimicas exclaimed excitedly to Golov.

“Of course, as for whether the nickname was given to him by Black Sword,” Nekra continued, shrugging indifferently, “well, I’ve never had a chance to ask him.”

“Believe me, you will have your chance,” Boss Fogg suddenly said, “Little Red.”

Laughter erupted again from the warehouse, mostly from local gang members, while Nekra's smile slowly froze.

"Looks like he and Fogg don't get along?" Golov whispered.

“How could that be?” Zimicas forced a smile. “The Blood Vial Gang is united as one…”

But the leaders don't seem to think that way.

“Excuse my lack of information, Boss Fogg,” said the barber Balta at the round table, looking honest and unassuming, as if he had just come from the barbershop, with his work apron stuffed in his pocket and the sash hanging outside. “We didn’t hear before we came that any colleagues from the capital were coming to ‘give us guidance’?”

"What a coincidence, I haven't heard of it either," said Tommy with a smile.

“I hadn’t heard of it at least a week ago,” Gamandia, who manages the gambling den, added coldly.

Ferguson gave a soft snort.

“Yes, when dear Nekra appeared at the door,” the “wanderer” shook his head, “I was also very curious: what brings you here?”

The leaders all turned their gazes toward the Red Viper.

“Hey, don’t be shy,” Nekra laughed heartily. “I heard you were having some trouble, so I came to help out, since the Blood Vial Clan is always looking out for each other!”

After hearing Red Viper's words, the bosses around the round table all frowned and exchanged glances.

We have encountered some difficulties.

Golov made a mental note of it.

But he didn't notice Rolf beside him.

At that moment, upon hearing that familiar, sinister voice again, the Ghost in the corner felt as if the blood in his body was about to freeze.

Why are you still alive?

The sinister voice rang in his ears again, and Rolf felt a chill run down his spine.

"Why did you survive? And not Kex, Song, Spin, or Dorno?" the voice continued.

Why was it you, Catherine's people, who survived, and not mine?

No.

Rolf took a deep breath and turned his attention back to the present.

No, this is a memory.

It's just a memory.

It was just a memory.

But how could a mute, legless, and critically wounded ghost like the Wind serve her?

Those memories that haunted him for seven years, never letting him go...

So, you might as well just die in battle and disappear!

Rolf closed his eyes.

Although the prosthetic limb made for him by the Mindis Hall was well-made, sturdy and durable, it still took him a whole year to adapt to it, and he had to exert all his strength to barely reach the level of a normal person.

Over the course of seven years, he woke up countless times in bed and felt that his legs were still there.

He also habitually got up from the bed countless times, wanting to step onto the ground, only to fall hard.

He dreamt countless times of his legs being severed and burned again and again, and all he could do was roar in vain amidst that unforgettable, sinister laughter.

He once thought he had slowly become numb and gradually forgotten.

Until now.

Now, that excruciating pain has returned to his legs.

"Heard? You heard?"

Fogg exhaled a puff of smoke and glanced at the various leaders at the round table: "Hmm, so, who told you this, Little Red?"

The wanderer spoke in a casual tone, but the leaders at the round table all looked away.

“Instead of worrying about that, old Ferguson, let’s get down to business,” Nekra said with his usual smile. “For example, what difficulties have you encountered?”

"What does this have to do with you?" Ferguson asked casually.

“This is related to the Blood Bottle Gang.” Nekra’s eyes gleamed.

“My fish,” Ferguson suddenly said.

Nekra was taken aback: "What?"

The bosses at the table were also puzzled.

Ferguson sighed, "I've been away for too long. What will happen to my fish?"

The leaders, including Nekra, looked at each other, puzzled.

Golov frowned as he stood by the wall.

“Um, Boss Fogg,” Franco, the “script supervisor” at the table, tentatively asked, “Boss Nekra has come from afar, and it’s the Emerald Festival, so why don’t we let’s not be so formal and find another place to talk over a meal?”

"I found them."

But at that moment, the other leader at the table, Roger, nicknamed "Dung Egg" with a ferocious expression, spoke first, interrupting Franco:

"The three thugs of mine who went missing were found yesterday—they were all in the river, their bodies swollen and rotting."

The expressions of the leaders present changed slightly; Ferguson remained silent, while Nekra seemed to be deep in thought.

Roger glared at his bosses, gritting his teeth, "Fuck them all."

“Oh, there have been casualties,” Nekra clicked his tongue, glancing at Ferguson across from him. “This is no small matter, is it?”

But Ferguson took a drag of his cigarette and remained silent.

"Script supervisor" Franco glanced at Nekra, as if reprimanding him for speaking up, but in the end Franco didn't say anything, only frowned:

"Who did this? They didn't leave any clues?"

"What other clues do you need?" Roger clenched his fist. "North Gate Bridge! Those sons of bitches, they've clearly decided to start a war—"

“Roger!” Franco interrupted him sternly.

Roger shrugged and leaned back in his chair, fuming.

Golov frowned.

“Hmm, I understand. The Black Silk is messing with us, in Emerald City,” Nekra, as a guest, snorted and looked around the round table. “Ferg, you’re the boss, aren’t you going to say something?”

Ferguson looked up, but sighed.

“You know, those in my tank are piranhas,” Fogg fanned the sparks off his pipe, muttering something nonsensical. “They’re picky eaters, they only eat meat, and they’re not easy to keep.”

The bosses frowned again.

"Ahem, everyone, three of my men went out to sweep the streets last week, and they've been missing ever since they finished work."

In the eerie silence, Taremi, who was in charge of the market business in the Glory District, coughed and spoke:
"Including my brother-in-law, that guy was really good at fighting, as strong as a horse, and he was gone in no time. My wife almost made me deaf from crying, and my brothers were also very angry."

“Like yours, in my casino, two of the guards are dead,” Gamandia, who manages the betting area, said coldly. “One died in the sink, turning the water red, and the other is still missing. And many gamblers haven’t shown up since the celebration started.”

Roger cursed in sympathy, while the others looked even more worried.

Ferguson remained silent, letting his pipe burn.

Behind them, Golov asked a bewildered Zimicas in a low voice, "So, you're being attacked?"

“This sounds ominous,” Nekra said, crossing his arms at the other end of the round table, reaching the same conclusion as Golov: “We’ve been attacked in the Emerald City, in the Queen’s City, in territory where the Blood Bottle Gang has always held sway?”

"It couldn't be clearer!" Roger slammed his fist on the round table and said fiercely, "Those Black Silks are too arrogant; they must pay the price!"

"Don't jump so fast, Roger."

Zeka, the "newspaper vendor," frowned and interrupted him:

"The Jade Festival is always crowded, and every year some people die, mostly from revenge or drunken brawls..."

"Hey, could it have been the water ghost?" Tommy, the good guy next to him, chuckled.

Roger's eyes blazed with fury: "You son of a bitch..."

“Well,” Franco quickly interrupted them, seemingly quite used to his role as meeting chair, “is there anyone else?”

"I!"

On the other side, Sangare, who made a living from the livestock business and dressed like a farmer, had red eyes: "They broke into my kennel in the middle of the night, and all three guards were dead, their throats slit and they were hung upside down..."

"But compared to that, they don't even spare the dogs... Ugh, damn it! Those were my best dogs! Hunting dogs, fighting dogs, pet dogs, show dogs, meat dogs, and breeding dogs! My life's work! What kind of people are so cruel as to not even spare dogs! Those sons of bitches!"

Sangare roared and slammed his fist on the table.

Fogg, smoking a cigarette, frowned, while Nekra gave a faint, cold laugh, and the gang members in the warehouse whispered among themselves.

"The Brotherhood and the Blood Bottle Gang are going to war, now?" Golov patted Rolf on the shoulder and asked in a low voice, but the latter did not answer him.

"Sangaret, we understand. Calm down." At the round table, script supervisor Franco sighed.

“And me, I have a very promising fighter under my command,” Gutierrez, who manages the underground boxing business, said in a low voice at the round table. “He was fighting the night before last, but he skipped work yesterday. We’ve been looking for him all day… This is the fourth fighter I’ve lost in two weeks, not counting those who went missing after shouting for tickets on the street.”

The atmosphere at the round table grew increasingly tense.

"but……"

"Bad Shoemaker" Jacques was dressed very lavishly. He disgustedly wiped the dust off the round table before leaning against it.

"I don't mean anything by it, but given your past record... that boxer, could it be that you were too rough with him and skimped on his pay, forcing him to run away from home?"

Gutierrez glared at him:
"His wife and children are still at home."

Jia Jia clicked his tongue and shook his head: "Tsk, so you're so ruthless that they'd rather abandon their wives and children than not run away?"

"We eventually found the bodies of the first three boxers in the river."

"Wow, are you really that ruthless? The boxers are so desperate that they run away from home and jump into the river?"

"They were killed by having their throats slit!"

"To commit suicide by slitting one's throat before jumping into the river? Sunset, Gutierrez, how terrible must you be as a leader..."

Gutierrez, unable to bear it any longer, stood up in anger:
"Hey!"

But before he could unleash his attack, the red viper on the other side suddenly spoke up.

"Oh dear, I thought the brothers in Emerald City were living a good life, after all, they have the backing of the City of Wealth. But it sounds like your situation is pretty bad. Not only are you getting beaten up for no reason, but you can't even unite your own people?"

The red viper toyed with a dagger, its gaze fixed intently on Ferguson.

"You know, we're the Blood Vial Gang!"

Gutierrez and Jaga exchanged a glance, the former snorted angrily, and finally sat back down at Franco's mediation.

"Unity?"

Roger, on the other side, sneered sarcastically:
"Master Jia has really made it big now. He's no longer the stinking leather craftsman he used to be, but a member of a major merchant guild. His leather business is booming! He's influential, on friendly terms with the guards, and he's always repairing bridges and roads. I heard he even went to a banquet at Kongming Palace a few days ago? Tsk tsk, he's completely forgotten the hard days when he swept the streets with us. How could he possibly talk about 'unity' with a bunch of shady scoundrels like us?"

“No need to trouble yourself,” Jaga snorted angrily. “I started out with the Blood Bottle Gang, I’m a member of the Blood Bottle Gang, and I’ll never forget that. Boss Fogg knows that very well.”

“You only remember the boss at times like this,” Gutierrez sneered. “What have you been doing all this time?”

The argument at the round table seemed set to continue, but Nekra spoke up again.

"Don't worry!"

Red Viper clicked his tongue, staring directly at Fogg: "We know about the difficulties you've all encountered, and that's why you're here, isn't it, old Fogg?"

As soon as he finished speaking, everyone at the round table turned to look at Ferguson.

But the latter still smoked cigarettes intermittently.

“Nekra,” a few seconds later, Ferguson exhaled a puff of smoke, “do you know how to keep a tank of piranhas healthy?”

Nekra and the others frowned in unison.

“You have to prepare the feed carefully, meat feed, little by little, and it can’t be without any blood,” Ferguson shook his head, “but too much blood won’t do either, they’re insatiable…”

“Stop talking about your fish, Fogg,” Nekra interrupted him, “and stop playing dead. You’re the boss, you have to do something.”

There was a moment of silence in the warehouse.

“This is a meeting in Emerald City, Little Red,” Ferguson said, looking at Nekra. “You don’t know anything about fishkeeping, so don’t offer your opinions.”

The red viper laughed and brandished its dagger.

“But Nekra is right, we are suffering losses, and what’s worse, the news won’t be kept under wraps for long, which is really demoralizing,” Gamandia couldn’t hold back any longer. “Stories of water ghouls are starting to circulate on the docks. We, we have to do something, whatever it may be.”

A chorus of agreement echoed from inside the warehouse.

"Fuck them!"

Roger raised his arm and roared:
"I've made up my mind. Today is your lord's procession day, and the guards and the Emerald Legion are both incredibly busy. We'll find a good time, gather our forces, and head to the North Gate Bridge. We'll find those medicine sellers, search high and low, and force 'Alpha Wolf' Lazanchi out. We'll hold a knife to his ass and make him pay the price! Make him spit out everything he's taken from us!"

"Start the battle!"

"revenge!"

"Let's teach those black silk cloaks a lesson!"

Gutierrez, Taremi, Sangare... half the people in the warehouse were in an uproar, some echoing, some shouting.

"Prove our stance!"

"eye for eye!"

Long live the Blood Bottle Gang!

“Hmm, this is somewhat interesting.” Nekra nodded with a smile.

On the other half of the round table, the script supervisor Franco, the bad shoemaker Jaga, the good man Tommy, the newspaper seller Zeca, and others did not join in the shouting. Instead, they looked troubled and frowned.

"Humph."

Amidst the fervent cries of condemnation, the wanderer Fogg snorted coldly and lowered his head to smoke:

"A tank full of stupid fish."

(End of this chapter)