Goblin Heavy Dependence

Chapter 440 Gutter Rat
"Wait here for me for a while."

The raindrops fell softly, and my already messy hair, which hadn't been styled in a long time, was soaked by the rain and stuck to my scalp in a disheveled way.

"Bloody-nosed Rat" Jerry called out to his two underlings behind him, then disappeared into the dark and cramped alleyway in front of him without looking back.

He needs to go back to his den to get the money.

The two adventurers I just encountered must have held back. After all, under normal circumstances, if a small-time hoodlum like myself accidentally offended such big shots, I would probably not live to see the next morning.

No one cares if a rat in a sewer dies in some dark corner where the sun never shines, and neither do they.

But right now, I can still breathe the dirty, smelly, yet wonderful air in the alley.

Praise be to the great goddess of fortune!

Jerry couldn't help but sigh to himself, and decided that tonight he would take the "safety money" he had painstakingly squeezed from several households during the day and find a casino to properly demonstrate his piety.

But before that, he had to pay for the medical treatment of his two brothers whose arms had been broken.

Of course, calling it "healing" is really just going to some unlicensed clinic in an alley to have bandages wrapped around your neck a couple of times. After you recover, you'll probably have to live with the aftereffects for the rest of your life.

Jerry was very clear about this.

After all, his now completely crooked nose was treated at this very clinic.

Jerry certainly wanted to see a doctor at the clean and bright large clinics, or even churches, in the Cormorant District and even the White Cliff District.

But he had no money and wasn't qualified to go in.

At least for now, I can receive some treatments that seem reasonably reliable, and the cost is within an acceptable range. Even if there are some aftereffects, it's still better than being disabled for life.

Jerry's rat's den is located deep in a street called "Eel Alley" in the saltwater district. The residents living here are as slippery and gloomy as eels, panting and barely surviving against the dirtiest corners of the walls.

Beneath my feet lay piles of garbage and rotten planks, piled up for who knows how many years, resembling mud on the outside. The air was always filled with a damp, pungent smell of urine, which was now fermenting in the rain and becoming even more acrid.

Jerry, however, was already used to it. His short, thin figure was like a rat scurrying through the garbage. He had memorized every fork and corner in the narrow alleyway.

Before long, he returned to the front of his hut.

It was called a "hut," but it was actually just a dead corner squeezed between a crooked, moldy wooden wall and the wall of the stone house next door. The "door" was an old cabin plank that he had found from somewhere, which was now firmly locked with a rusty iron chain.

Jerry fumbled in his crotch, pulled out an equally inconspicuous little key, fiddled with it a couple of times near the door, unlocked it, and removed the chain.

He then pressed his body against the door, braced his knees against the lower left corner of the wooden door, inserted his right hand into the door crack, and simultaneously exerted upward force with his hands and feet, using his body to push the door inward.

With a sharp "click," the wooden door finally opened wide enough for a person to pass through.

The house was dark and cramped, with no lights on. Rainwater seeped from cracks in the roof and dripped onto the floor. Jerry had prepared a small earthenware jar before leaving home, which was now filled with a thin layer of rainwater.

There were naturally no luxurious furnishings inside. His entire possessions consisted of a simple wooden bed that was not much bigger than a coffin, a patched and torn cloak, an upside-down wooden bucket that served as a table, and an earthenware jar with cracks on the surface that served as both a chamber pot and a rainproof container.

It is by no means respectable, and it has nothing to do with comfort or safety.

But it is also the only place in this world where this little mouse, who grew up in the alleys of the saltwater area, can live, the only place that truly belongs to him.

Out of caution, Jerry did not take immediate action after entering the house. Instead, he stood there patiently for a few seconds before cautiously turning around and peeking out the door to look around and make sure no one was following him.

He then hurried to his tattered bed, crawled down, and reached his hands deep into the bedclothes made of moldy straw and smelly woolen rags.

After a little rummaging, he pulled out a money pouch that looked somewhat shrunken.

He glanced back at the doorway twice, still not entirely sure, before using his body to shield himself and pouring out a few glittering coins from his purse.

Jerry stuffed a few gold coins deep inside his underwear, put the money bag back in its place, and carefully tidied up the straw and fabric on top, restoring the bed to its original state.

He then got up again and walked towards the door.

Jerry didn't have much savings, or rather, given his lifestyle, even if he wanted to save money, he simply couldn't.

These few gold coins were painstakingly saved up over the years by occasionally stumbling upon lucrative opportunities.

In the past, I probably wouldn't have been willing to use it at all.

But the current situation is different.

On the one hand, he was about to make a name for himself and had finally gained two underlings, so of course he had to take on the responsibility of being the "boss".

Seeing that he had spent money to treat their injuries, and based on the stories of the rise of great figures he had heard from bards, his two underlings should understand how much he had sacrificed for them, and then completely submit to him, becoming his most loyal subordinates.

On the other hand, to some extent, he was already an unofficial member of the Hornfish Gang.

Once this matter is over, Jerry will officially have an organization.

From now on, just by collecting security fees for the big shots, the profits will be enough for me to live a carefree and comfortable life in the tavern all night long.

Thinking about the wonderful life ahead, Jerry couldn't help but grin, and even the slight pain in his nose from the rainy day seemed to ease a lot.

The ill-fitting leather boots, covered in mud, suddenly stopped.

"Bloody-nosed Rat" Jerry stood in front of his cabin, his body suddenly freezing.

As his nostrils twitched, his brows furrowed unconsciously.

Although the smell was very faint due to the dilution from the rain, he could still detect a bloody odor that resembled rust.

Thanks to his upbringing in chaotic alleyways, Jerry is particularly sensitive to this smell.

An alarm bell rang in my mind.

His mind raced through the current situation, but his facial expression returned to normal within a few breaths, pretending he knew nothing.

But just as he was thinking of pretending he hadn't noticed anything and continuing to move forward...

The shadow from the depths of the alleyway behind him suddenly twitched.

"Sizzle."

A flash of sharp, metallic gleam passed by.

A cold, large hand emerged from the rain behind him and tightly covered Jerry's mouth, reducing the scream that followed to a fleeting whimper.

Scalding blood gushed from his throat, mingling with the cold raindrops and adding a splash of crimson to his already soaked collar.

His feet kicked wildly, his hands clung to the arm that seemed harder than steel, but his life was silently slipping away with the blood gushing from the wound in his throat.

The body, which had been struggling in intense pain, gradually began to spasm.

His eyes first contracted and became bloodshot, then expanded and went out of focus as his limp arm hung down.

It could take a few seconds, or it could take several minutes.

As Jerry's center of gravity gradually shifted backward and he was laid down on the muddy ground, he truly became a corpse.

"Hoo..." He let out a soft breath.

The burning sensation within his body condensed into white mist in the air.

A tall, thin middle-aged man stood beside Jerry's body, blood still stained between his fingers and on the blade of the dagger.

His face was sinister, and a scar ran diagonally down his forehead, severing half of his eyebrow.

A few wisps of shadow energy still lingered on the surface of the leather boots.

After confirming that the thug at his feet was completely dead, the man with the broken eyebrow put the dagger back into his waistband, squatted down, and began to grope something on Jerry's body with his large, calloused hands.

With seemingly extensive experience, the few gold coins that Jerry had hidden deep inside his underwear were pulled out by those hands in just a few seconds.

But clearly, this professional wanderer's goal was not just these few simple items.

When he had searched Jerry thoroughly and still hadn't found what he was looking for, a sinister glint flashed in his eyes.

The house had already been thoroughly searched beforehand, but nothing was found.

It wasn't hidden on its body, nor was it hidden in its den.

Where could this little mouse possibly put things in a whole morning?

Nobody knows.

But at least he had achieved his main objective for this trip: to put the "Bloody-nosed Rat" to its last breath.

Confirmed that nothing was omitted.

The sinister-looking man with the broken eyebrow glanced down at the corpse at his feet and the simple hut in front of him, a look of disgust and contempt flashing in his eyes.

The shadow writhed and vanished from its spot.

The light rain continued to fall.

The old boat house door was still half-open, letting in a cold wind that creaked and groaned as it swayed.

Blood spread.

Jerry lay there, no different from the countless dead rats in the corner of the saltwater area.

……

……

Gangs, or rather, unofficial small groups, exist in the gathering places of every intelligent being.

It could be a wicked criminal organization that profits from running casinos and brothels, or it could simply be a temporary hobby group of a few fishermen.

In most cases, the degree of official tolerance and the composition of the town's residents will greatly influence the nature of these small groups.

Take Newme and Barracuda Bay as examples.

The former is located inland and is the most important large-scale commercial town in Panyun Province. It is the core of almost all human settlements in the vicinity, and its prosperity goes without saying.

Its internal power structure is clearly defined, with the city lord's mansion and the church jointly controlling everything within the town.

Although there were uncontrolled areas like the "Nium Sewers" that were out of reach of the light, the nobles and clergy still maintained a firm grip on the city's order.

No mouse dared to stand in the sunlight.

Gangs like the "Grey Badger Gang" have leaders who have to curry favor with the higher-ups just to barely find a place to live in the perpetually dark sewers.

Order and rules reign supreme. Even the most foolish professional wouldn't choose to go against the authorities in such a place, because there's absolutely no profit to be made, and the income is completely disproportionate to the risk.

But Suyu Bay is different.

Although both are core cities within the same province, and even more important due to its status as a "port".

But it's like the vast, chaotic ocean beyond the bay.

Barracuda Bay is far from being as orderly and stable as Newme.

The internal power structure is complex and intertwined. The disputes and strife between the Governor's Office, the Church, and the merchant guilds go without saying. Most importantly, compared to Newme, there is an additional branch of the Adventurers' Guild in Barracuda Bay.

This caused the number of adventurers in the town to increase exponentially compared to other large towns.

As is widely known, adventurers are the source of chaos on the continent of Aifara.

These powerful individuals, possessing extraordinary abilities, recklessly enjoy the privileges that come with their power, placing themselves above ordinary people without any psychological burden.

As a result, ambitious groups sprang up in the maze-like alleyways of the saltwater district.

Content with the status quo and worried that rivals might take advantage of the situation, the major powers in the town naturally wouldn't disrupt the current fragile balance and would turn a blind eye to those small groups.

This is why, despite having more members and a wider sphere of influence, the leader of the Badger Gang in Newme City has not even obtained a professional level.

The Shark Gang appears to be at the bottom of the gang hierarchy in Cocker Spa, with an area of ​​influence no bigger than a fingernail, but its leader is a powerful professional with a level 5 skill.

In a way, the latter's boss, "Horned Shark" Riley, not only has the identity of a "gangster boss" but also the part-time job of an "adventurer".

Although both are gangs, their nature and the things they can do are completely different.

Xia Nan had personally experienced this before he came to understand it.

These subtle differences between cities are not recorded in publications about local customs and traditions.

You need to actually go to these two places to be able to distinguish the differences through your own personal experience.

As a professional adventurer with decent combat skills, if Xia Nan wanted to retire and live a peaceful life, Newm would undoubtedly be a more suitable choice.

And if he needed to find members of a certain gang, or even indulge himself a little and use his outstanding combat ability to commit some killings... the superior environment of the Fish Bay itself goes without saying.

Especially considering that he was able to obtain a certain degree of official support.

The trip to the Baron's mansion was made possible by the business relationship between Hein and Baron Faro, as well as the intelligence obtained from "Bloody-nosed Rat" Jerry.

This incident has drawn considerable attention from Xia Nan and others regarding the disappearance of the Baron's daughter.

In addition to promising a hefty reward if his daughter could be found, Baron Faro also used his noble privileges to temporarily grant Xia Nan and his men command of an entire squad of guards.

This is tantamount to endorsing Xia Nan and others' activities in the saltwater area, and legalizing some behaviors that might otherwise have been in a gray area.

Of course, given Xia Nan and Hai Yin's personalities and ways of doing things, they wouldn't take this opportunity to do anything outrageous or cross the line.

With the twin warriors from the Hein team, the group headed straight for the Horned Shark Gang's core stronghold in Scimitar Alley after leaving the Baron's Mansion, as originally planned.

(End of this chapter)