Mystery: When the Lost Homelanders Meet the Lost Homeland Call

Lynn did not go directly to the Hammer Gang's stronghold.

He first went to a secluded corner of the dock area.

It was an alley without even streetlights, surrounded by piles of abandoned wooden crates and fishing nets. The crimson moonlight couldn't reach this place; only the occasional flash of a gas lamp in the distance flickered across the ground.

He stopped here, closed his eyes, and let his consciousness sink deep into the distance.

That is the darkest and deepest place in the world, a "void" realm that even the spirit world cannot reach.

He saw it; the sparks he had left behind shone like starlight in this void, the largest of which was Old Neil.

Those sparks lay dormant in the target location, neither burning nor spreading, nor emitting any signals; they simply "existed" quietly.

Now, Lynn is going to activate them.

He opened his eyes, raised his right hand, and spread his five fingers.

A tiny, extremely bright spot of light appeared in his palm. The spot of light was like a miniature star, spinning, burning, and pulsating in his palm, with a ghostly green flame seeping from his fingertips and spreading outwards.

Then, he clenched his fist.

Seventeen points of light lit up in his mind at the same time, and he could clearly "see" the position of each flame seed, as clearly as he could see his own finger.

His first target was a certain "office".

Although it was called an office, it was actually just an ordinary three-story apartment building, with a grocery store downstairs and residences upstairs. But through his spiritual vision, Lynn saw that in the "grocery store owner's room" on the second floor, there were at least seven or eight people with spiritual light, and each of them carried an "odor" that made him uncomfortable.

It was a greedy, cruel, numb smell, like the smell of rotting meat and moldy bread mixed together.

"Yee—" Lynn felt nauseous for a moment.

Then he snapped his fingers, and eerie green flames surged from the shadows beneath his feet, coiling around his body like a snake. A blurry figure gradually disappeared in the flames, and then…

  

Then Lynn was already standing in the room on the second floor.

It was a small room, divided in two. One half was piled with documents and ledgers, and had a worn-out desk; the other half had several beds, on which lay several disheveled men, snoring incessantly.

The air was thick with the smell of cheap liquor and tobacco, as well as the stench of sweat.

Lynn glanced at the six people; they were all asleep. Some were on the bed, some on the floor, and some were even asleep with drool at the corner of their mouths.

Lynn frowned. He didn't like to make a move when people were asleep, but considering that these people wouldn't be much faster than him when they were awake, and they weren't awake either, well... never mind, it's easier.

One of them seemed to sense someone nearby and slightly opened his eyes.

"Smack."

Lynn raised his hand and hit him on the head. The man didn't even utter a sound before passing out.

"It seems you guys aren't sleeping well. Let me help you." Lynn stretched his limbs and walked over to the others.

In less than ten seconds, all six people had fallen unconscious. Lynn checked that their breathing and heartbeats were normal; they had simply passed out and wouldn't die, at most suffering some minor aftereffects.

He pulled out the hemp rope he had taken from Old Neil's house from his pocket and tied the six men together in a string.

Then he looked out the window of the room.

He sighed.

I can't teleport, but surely I can throw people?

He hoisted the unconscious man onto his shoulder, walked to the window, pushed it open, and jumped.

The distance from the third-floor window to the ground was about seven or eight meters, but for Lynn, that height was nothing. He landed steadily and quietly, without making much of a sound.

He moved the group of people to his chosen temporary "containment site" and then headed to the next location.

The second stronghold was the pawnshop.

The same process is followed: activate the spark, teleport, knock out, bind, and move.

This time there were five people, including the pawnshop owner. Lynn noticed that the owner wore three gold rings on his hands, his fingers were short and thick, and his fingernails were full of dirt. His ledger contained a large amount of loan information, some of which had outrageously high interest rates, and some didn't even have any principal, only "service fees" and "management fees," which was blatant fraud.

Lynn took the account book with him as well.

The third stronghold, the third dock in the dock area, that abandoned warehouse.

There were even more people here, at least twenty thugs, divided into two shifts, half sleeping and half drinking and gambling. The dozen or so men gambling were making a ruckus, the dice clattering in the bowl, completely unaware of the faint green light that had appeared in the air.

Lynn stood on the warehouse beam, looking down at the gamblers, and then stretched out his hands.

A ghostly green flame erupted from his palm, instantly melting the gas lamp.

The "burning" of flames has no temperature; it is the "void" of the world that is devouring things, so there will be no gas explosion.

After the lights were turned off, Lynn moved. The will of the warp guided his body, and he moved as fast as lightning.

In less than ten seconds, everyone who was awake was knocked down.

Lynn found some thick ropes in the warehouse, divided the twenty-odd people into four groups, and then tied them all together to carry them out.

……

Lynn looked at the pile of unconscious people in front of him, which resembled a small mountain, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Although he was not one to sweat, this action made him feel more like a human being.

"Seventeen gathering places," he counted the marks on the map, "all taken care of, and the prostitutes from the brothels released too."

He stretched his neck and turned to walk toward the Hammer Gang's "headquarters".

It was a three-story brick and stone building with gray-white lime plaster on the exterior walls and a sign that read "Dockworkers' Guild" hanging at the entrance. If it weren't for Old Neil's accurate tracking spell, no one would have guessed that the core of a gang was hidden behind this respectable office building.

However, Lynn was not too surprised. Guilds, with their strict and detailed rules, manage a group of artisans and monopolize external affairs. It is common for them to collude with the underworld.

You could even say that the underworld is just a cover for the guilds.

Maintaining a small group of "workers" and exploiting the rest is the main purpose of the guild's development into a gang. Other businesses, such as loan sharking, are derived after the gang has established its dominance.

This was perfectly normal at Victorian docks, and Lynn felt relieved when he thought about how such organizations existed at docks in his homeland across the ocean.

Lynn has now cleared out the other strongholds and arrested nearly a hundred people.

Instead of rushing in, he stood at the entrance and scanned the entire building with his spiritual vision.

An atmosphere of fear permeated the entire building, which was within Lynn's expectations. The Hammer Gang had been operating in the dock area for nearly ten years and had colluded with the Sheriff's Department and councilors, so it was possible that they knew about the existence of superhumans.

Once the bald man gets back, he'll definitely embellish his account of what happened. Even if these people don't believe him, they'll still be wary.

Unfortunately, their vigilance was in vain.

Lynn walked to the door and placed his right hand on the door panel.

A ghostly green flame seeped in through the cracks in the door, flowing silently like water through the corridor, the staircase, and every room. Wherever the flame passed, all the hidden alarm mechanisms were swallowed by the "void," vanishing without a trace.

Then Lynn pushed open the door and went inside.

The first floor was deserted.

On the second floor, he took care of about a dozen thugs on night duty in ten seconds.

The room for those five people on the third floor.

Lynn stood at the end of the corridor, looking at the oak door in front of her.

He could sense the five people behind the door; four were pacing nervously or sitting upright, while one was constantly muttering something under his breath, as if in prayer. The one muttering the prayer had the strongest spiritual imprint and was likely the leader of the Iron Hammer Gang.

Lynn raised his hand and gave a gentle push.

The oak door, frame and all, collapsed inward with a dull thud. Dust billowed, and light shone from the room, illuminating Lynn's figure in the hallway.

Behind the door was a spacious office.

A huge mahogany desk, with a gas lamp, several stacks of documents, and a loaded revolver on it.

Behind the desk sat a man who looked to be about fifty years old.

He was dressed in a well-tailored black suit, his hair was neatly combed, and his face was handsome, even dashing. If Old Neil hadn't confirmed his identity, no one would have associated that face with a mob boss.

Four burly men stood beside him, each holding a repeating rifle, the muzzle pointed at Lynn.

The room was very quiet.

The leader stared at Lynn for a few seconds, then slowly spoke, his voice low and steady:

"You're the one... who beat up my brother in the alley last night?"

Lynn did not answer. He walked into the room, sat down in a chair opposite the mahogany desk, crossed his legs, and scrutinized the person in front of him with a critical look.

"You're the leader of the Hammer Gang?" he asked. "The president of the dockworkers' guild? I didn't realize."