I write obituaries for the gods

Lin Chen projected a mask onto his face, put it on, and then opened a triangular door on the ground.

Oswald grabbed the guard by the feet and flung him inside.

"What's on the other side of the door?" Jiang Zhengge asked.

"Beihai." Lin Chen said expressionlessly.

“Wow…” Oswald nodded.

“Now no one will know he’s missing for a while,” Jiang Zhengge said. “Oss, do you want to use his skin?”

“It’s more effective. Mercury has infiltrated many people, but those at the lower levels generally don’t know Lavasis’s name,” Oswald nodded. “The fact that he’s here watching over the woods means he’s probably a relative of some high-ranking member, here to boost his seniority in the organization.”

"Rest in peace, young master." Lin Chen imagined the young master's body sinking into the sea.

"With this outfit, Black Bear Bar will welcome us."

Oswald waved his hand:

"Let's go into town."

......

"I thought you'd run away in fear long ago, but I never expected you'd actually have the guts to show up here..."

Black Bear Bar, second-floor private room.

Ms. J looked at Louis across the table, her face expressionless.

“To be honest, you exceeded my expectations,” she said.

“We’re just business partners, not superiors and subordinates,” Louis said in a low voice. “You don’t need to be so arrogant.”

"Oh..."

Ms. J smiled as she looked at Louis's face, which was half covered by a mask.

“We’re not in a superior-subordinate relationship, but the debts between us aren’t yet settled,” Ms. J murmured. “My darling Johnston…you’re one of the murderers…”

Looking into the deep blue of Ms. J's eyes, Louis could clearly sense that this woman's mind was no longer quite right.

Perhaps she went mad long ago, after Qingtian died? Or after she became a demigod?

“I see you’ve arrested a lot of townspeople; our jails are already overflowing,” Louis said. “Is it necessary?”

"It's necessary...because Lin Chen will definitely be here!"

Ms. J's voice suddenly rose a few octaves.

“He’ll definitely be here…yes, how could he not? He killed my precious Johnston…oh, you helped him, are you a spy! Are you his dog!”

“I hate him just as much as you do,” Louis said, emphasizing each word. “I was almost killed by him too.”

"Then you should know that dealing with him requires any extreme measures..."

Ms. J clenched her fists tightly.

"The rain has taken away my baby... Oh, he was such a cheerful and sunny little boy back home, I really hate this city..."

Ms. J stood up, her tall figure in power armor looking down at Louis.

"But thankfully... thankfully this city won't be... it won't be destroyed for long..."

"They'll all be buried with you... baby... hehehe..."

Ms. J walked towards the door, as if she were sleepwalking, acting erratically.

After pushing open the door, she suddenly turned her head and looked at Louis:

"Have your men patrol the streets 24/7. Arrest anyone suspicious... or kill them! Kill them! Hehe... Johnston, Mom's got you... a yacht... with lots of... handsome men on it..."

She walked out in a daze and slammed the door shut.

Louis remained silent for a long time, staring at the closed door.

He stood up, walked to where Ms. J had been sitting, and picked up a small jar from the ground.

He had noticed before that Ms. J kept sticking these small canisters into the power armor, and one would pop off every now and then.

Louis brought the small jar to his nose and smelled it.

“A potent inhibitor…” He frowned. “Heh, the concentration is quite high.”

This means that Ms. J is constantly trying to improve her physical condition through some means, to the point that she needs such a high concentration of inhibitors to suppress the side effects.

But Louise didn't think she had it under control—her mind was clearly becoming increasingly erratic.

"Hehehe...they're all your pawns now..." the voice echoed in Louis's mind. "You'll use these pawns...to take revenge on them! Destroy Rain City! Destroy Rain City!"

"Shut up."

Louis cursed angrily, tossed the jar aside, and headed for the door.

After stepping out of the bar, Louis waved and called his men over:

"Increase patrols on the streets, arrest anyone who looks like a Bureau of Investigation spy, just don't let that crazy woman shift the blame onto us."

"Yes," the subordinate nodded, "Are you going back?"

"Well, I'll go back first."

Louis got into the black G63 parked on the side of the road, closed the door, and drove away.

G63 sped along the muddy streets, splashing mud and water everywhere.

"Zizi..."

At the alley entrance, Lin Chen stepped back two steps in time to avoid the splashing mud.

"How do people drive here?" he muttered.

“Anyone who can drive here isn’t someone to mess with,” Jiang Zhengge said, looking at the pile of Russian advertisements on the alley wall. “Keep a low profile.”

“Those outside look like rebels,” Lin Chen said, staring at the guards on the street. “Shall we go straight over?”

"Go directly there, I'll handle it."

Oswald handed Jiang Zhengge a cigarette, and then handed one to Lin Chen.

"I can't do it; I'll be exposed in a few seconds," Lin Chen quickly refused.

“Then you can go to the side,” Jiang Zhengge lit a cigarette and put it in his mouth. “Let us handle the old rascal act.”

Soon, three people were walking side by side on the streets of St. Petersburg.

They were wearing black trench coats and top hats, and even though it was already dark, they still had sunglasses on their faces.

The man in the middle was tall and imposing, smoking a cigarette while glancing at the pedestrians on the street with a look of utter disdain.

Lin Chen stood on the left, trying his best to project an image of "I am very capable".

As for Oswald, no matter which face he presents, as long as he stands there, he exudes the aura of a terrifying serial killer.

The three men walking side by side on the street immediately attracted the attention of the rebels.

"Do those three look like spies?" a soldier whispered to his comrade.

“Are you an idiot? That guy’s demeanor is like that of a high-ranking member of the Blackpine Brotherhood,” his companion muttered. “Or maybe he’s one of their guests. People like that act like this, just like that… that Razorfen Downs.”

"Shouldn't we question him...?"

“What are you questioning me for? Look closely at that hunter next to them!” The guard pointed at Oswald. “See the tattoo on his wrist? Handcuffs! And two daggers and a skull on it. What does that mean?”

"What do you mean?"

"The handcuffs mean he's been to prison, and most likely the Gulag! The skull and dagger are his identity! That guy's an assassin!"

"Damn... thank goodness I didn't cause them any trouble..."

"..."

Through the mirage city, Lin Chen overheard the conversation between the rebel soldiers.

“They didn’t suspect us,” Lin Chen said in a low voice. “Oh, good detail.”

“Of course,” Oswald said softly.

The three of them crossed the street without any hindrance and arrived at the entrance of the Black Bear Bar.

The bar looked old and run-down. The old-fashioned streetlights at the entrance were dilapidated, with a large gap in the lampshade and frost all over the bulbs.

At the entrance, two muscular Russian men blocked the three of them.

"Password..."

One of the Black Pine Brotherhood members had barely finished speaking when he noticed Oswald.

"Sergei!" he exclaimed with a beaming smile. "Oh dear, you've brought a friend instead of keeping watch over your forest?"

“These two are super American businessmen,” Oswald replied fluently in Russian. “They’re here to do business and need some reliable guys as bodyguards. I happen to be free, so I’ll make an introduction.”

“Good, good, you little bear, you’re quite the smooth talker, you’ve inherited your father’s wisdom,” another burly man patted Oswald on the shoulder. “Go inside, the old guys are in the back, give our friends a good welcome!”

Immediately afterwards, two fraternity members opened the bar door.

The first thing you see is dim lighting.

A strange smell of beetroot soup and vodka wafted into Lin Chen's nose, causing him to unconsciously frown. He stepped into the bar through the damp, creaking wooden floor and sat down at the dilapidated bar counter with Oswald.

“Three vodkas,” Oswald waved to the bartender, “and call me a knife while you’re at it.”

“We don’t have many knives left,” the bartender said in a deep voice. “Send someone to talk to them in the innermost room on the second floor.”

Oswald turned his head and looked at Lin Chen.

Lin Chen understood what he meant; Oswald had mentioned this rule on the way here.

The knife signifies "assassin." The consultation takes place one-on-one on the second floor of the Black Bear Bar, where both parties confirm the price and sign a contract.

“When the time comes, you go talk to the knife,” Oswald said to Lin Chen. “The section chief and I will stay in the hall and try to gather more intelligence.”

"If we can't find any intelligence, we'll interrogate the assassin you hired. Of course, that's a last resort, since the assassin doesn't know much."

"..."

Lin Chen picked up a wine glass that looked filthy and got up to walk to the second floor of the bar.

Lin Chen climbed the creaking, narrow stairs to the second floor, where he bumped into a drunkard.

"Damn it... he charged me three million rubles for killing a mistress!" he roared at Lin Chen. "Those beasts' lives are worthless! Killing them was doing a service to the people!"

Hearing the commotion, two fraternity members immediately rushed over, restrained the drunkard, and threw him down the stairs.

Ignoring the sound of the drunkard tumbling down the stairs, Lin Chen walked towards the innermost room on the second floor.

He stood in front of a dilapidated wooden door, on which was written a line of words in Russian that Lin Chen could not understand.

Lin Chen reached out and knocked on the door.

"Come in," came a hoarse voice from inside.

Lin Chen pushed open the door and walked into the dark little room.

The room was simply furnished, with only a worn-out table and an empty wine cabinet.

An elderly Slavic man with gray hair sat behind a table, his posture upright, and behind his transparent-framed glasses, a pair of deep blue eyes gleamed with a faint light.

"A rare guest, it's surprising to find a Chinese person here," the old man smiled. "Please sit down. Are you looking for a knife?"

"Yes."

Lin Chen was surprised that the old man's Chinese was so standard. He sat down opposite the old man and put his hands on the table.

"Very well-mannered," the old man nodded, looking at Lin Chen's hands resting on the table. "May I introduce myself?"

“Thomas Lin, a businessman,” Lin Chen introduced himself according to the Oswald tradition, “I need to find a bodyguard.”

“You seem capable of protecting yourself,” the old man said, scanning Lin Chen’s body. “Of course, the security situation in the Silver District isn’t great right now… understandable… understandable…”

The old man took out a bottle of vodka from under the table, poured a glass, and raised it to Lin Chen.

Lin Chen also raised his wine glass and drank it all in one gulp.

The vodka burned through his throat like a flame, sinking into his lungs, making it almost unbearable.

Why would anyone enjoy drinking like this...?

After finishing his drink, Lin Chen put down his cup: