abnormal mutation

Chapter 9 Ice River Town

Ice River Town is a remote little place. Normally, if it's a little chaotic, no one will care. But if it really makes the nobles and officials lose face, then it will be troublesome.

Roland was more worried about the nightmare that caused the original owner's weakness. If the nightmare continued and he had no clue what to do, he could only look to the white bear as the biggest suspect.

He sighed; he couldn't relax yet. Faced with life and death, he didn't want to be too passive.

"Drop your weapons, take off your hat and coat, and go before I change my mind." He waved his hand.

The four men, as if granted a pardon, hurriedly took off their weapons, fur coats, and hats, threw them into the snow, and then swung themselves along, gliding into the gradually darkening sky.

Several seconds later, the figures of the group disappeared into the distance.

"Kill them, and make sure they're dealt with cleanly." Roland's voice was somewhat hoarse.

Watching the two wolves disappear into the cold wind, Roland remained silent for a long time. He had never imagined that killing could be so simple, that a mere thought could decide someone's life or death; in just over a day, he had killed eight people.

Yesterday's three could be described as self-defense, but today's events were all part of his scheme.

'That's how the world is, all I want is to survive.' If he had to do it all over again, he would still do the same.

He shook his head, shaking off the sudden surge of emotion, got up, piled all the spoils together, and wrapped them tightly in a fur robe.

There wasn't anything particularly valuable here, except for that crossbow, which was rather exquisite, but he had a revolver and didn't care for such an old antique.

In no time, Kiley and Freddie quietly appeared beside him, their jet-black fur clean and tidy, as if they had never left.

The four unarmed ordinary people posed no threat to them; a couple of punches from them barely bothered them. After killing them, the two wolves scratched their faces, tore their clothes, and even dug a snow pit to bury them, making them look like they had been attacked by wild beasts.

Perhaps at night, those hungry wild beasts will follow the scent and come looking for these corpses, digging them up, dragging them away, and eating them, thus helping Roland destroy the evidence.

As darkness fell, Killie and Fred once again took on the role of laborers, carrying bundles and large backpacks, while Roland, traveling light, continued towards Ice River Town with the two wolves.

Glacier Town is about 17 Delhi to the sawmill. One Delhi is 1000 yards, and one yard is close to 1 meter, so that's about 16 kilometers. The roads are difficult to travel on due to the snow, and it usually takes two hours or even longer.

Fortunately, taking down a few henchmen didn't take too long, and with an hour and a half until dark, Roland still had plenty of time.

He didn't take Watner Avenue, but instead chose sparsely populated areas. Along the way, he unexpectedly stumbled upon a white-crested pheasant nest, and was delighted to find five white-crested pheasants and six eggs, which almost made him take the wrong turn again.

White-crested snow chickens are very rare. He had seen one once when he left the sales home to make his way in the world, and it was said that one could sell for more than ten German dollars. The meat of this breed is delicious, but it is temperamental, cannot be farmed, and is good at hiding, very alert, and extremely difficult to catch.

Even it took Killy and Fridge a lot of effort to catch him. If Roland were to act alone, with his terrible marksmanship, he probably wouldn't even be able to touch a feather.

After trekking for more than an hour, Ice River Town came into view in the distance, and the two wolves disappeared without a trace. Roland, carrying bundles larger than himself, slowly approached the town from the main road.

As dusk fell, the outlines of a large cluster of low-rise buildings gradually came into view, with wisps of smoke rising from their chimneys, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.

Most of the houses here are wooden, with a few small stone buildings scattered about. They are mostly covered by snow, half-hidden, but their rugged and simple style is still discernible, with decorations primarily made of animal bones and furs. As Watner Avenue winds its way north into town, the clamor of voices grows louder and louder.

This is North City, the first stop for snowfield hunters returning home, and also the largest fur trading center in Glacier Town. Roland occasionally comes here to buy a few pieces of cheap lean meat to nourish the little guys.

Taipei is the most chaotic place in Binghe Township, bar none. Most of the murders reported in the Binghe Morning Post occurred here.

Roland did not go in, but instead detoured to the west. Soon he saw a low stone wall, and he walked along the wall, heading straight for the frozen harbor in the west of the city.

Glacier Town is built along the Frost River, and its overall shape is an irregular circle. It is surrounded by an old, low city wall, mainly to protect against large, ravenous wild beasts. However, with the widespread use of firearms, there have been no reports of animal attacks on the town for many years, and the city gates are rarely closed, making them more symbolic than practical.

The northern part of the city, the frozen harbor and fish market to the west, and the sheep farm to the south are all outside the city walls. They are mostly shops, and the residents live in the town. The permanent population is probably several thousand.

The town was neither too big nor too small. Roland walked along the city wall for less than twenty minutes before reaching the fish market. He was covered in white smoke and panting heavily. He even considered throwing away a package to lighten the load, but in the end, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

However, he was even more satisfied with his body. The total weight he was carrying was no less than 3 Taren, which is equivalent to at least 90 kilograms. To achieve this level of performance with his injured and exhausted body was quite remarkable.

Compared to Taipei, the fish market and the adjacent frozen harbor were very deserted, with hardly anyone in sight, no one shoveling snow, and very few footprints on the streets.

It's February now, and the extreme cold hasn't passed yet. The ice on the Frost River is too thick to fish at all. It won't be until May that this place starts to get a bit lively, and in June and July, when migratory fish appear in large numbers, the fish market will reach its peak.

This cycle will last until the thirteenth month, when the rare fish of Glacier Town will be transported to various parts of the Empire by steamships, rail trains and ships, and served on the tables of the wealthy.

That period was also the best time for "Roland's House," as they could only make a living by producing and selling charcoal during the cold winter months.

After stepping onto the main road, Roland turned left to the east, and a few minutes later he saw the city wall with its main gate tightly closed, and a small side gate on each side. Behind the city gate was Rue de la Seminary, which led directly to the central square. "Roland's House" was at the west end of the street, and could be seen after passing through the city gate.

The West Gate Tower is one of the few tall buildings in the town. It has three stories including the city wall, and a huge windproof oil lamp stands on top, which can penetrate the fog and can be seen from outside the frozen harbor.

With a creak, the door on the second floor of the gatehouse was pushed open, and the flickering light spilled onto the quiet street, casting a long shadow of Roland.

"What are you doing here?" a young law enforcement officer in a blue-black uniform asked casually, holding a frozen fish in his hand.

Law enforcement officers certainly have the right to question anyone entering or leaving Glacier Town, but they usually don't. Laziness is the norm, and once they get serious, the people they encounter will have to pay a price.

“It’s me, Roland.” Roland had expected this.

He recognized the man; his name was Hughes, a law enforcement officer from a commoner background who had a certain moral compass. He had been stationed in Westgate for two years and had been Roland's neighbor for two years, so it was impossible for them not to know each other.

"Roland?" Hughes looked surprised and doubtful. He threw away the frozen fish, leaned over the city wall, and carefully examined the figure below. "You're still alive?"

"Who told you I'm dead?"

Roland feigned surprise, saying he needed to understand the current situation.

(End of this chapter)