Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

After nightfall, two miles outside the town of Scamay.

At the end of the road, in the woods, the two cars came to a silent stop.

A black sedan and a truck covered with a thick tarpaulin.

The car lights were off, and only a few dim lights in the distant town shone through the gaps in the trees, looking like a few tiny flames floating in the night.

The car door opened, and Xilun stepped out first.

The night breeze swept across my face, carrying the scents of wheat stubble, river water, and a faint, sweet, fishy aroma.

The smell wasn't strong; it tasted like flowers, and also like rotten honey.

He looked up toward the town, his gaze calm.

Rena got out of the car, put on a dark coat, and carried a hastily prepared map in her hand.

"Governor, Scamay only has two exits, east and west. To the south are flower fields, and to the north is an old mill and a drainage ditch. If anyone wants to escape, nine times out of ten they will go north."

Xilun took the map, glanced at it, folded it, and handed it back.

"Kuso".

"exist!"

Behind the truck, Kusso responded in a low voice and quickly approached with a dozen or so musketeers.

Everyone changed into dark coats that were easy to wear at night, and the muzzles of their guns were wrapped with strips of cloth to suppress the metallic gleam as much as possible.

"Split into two teams," said Siren. "You take eight men and go around from the north to block off the old mill and the drainage ditch."

If anyone tries to escape, shoot them in the legs first, then apprehend them. Do not fire indiscriminately unless absolutely necessary.

Kusso nodded emphatically: "Understood."

"The rest of you guard the east gate. All lights must be extinguished. The trucks must be hidden behind the woods. No one is to disturb the townspeople without my permission."

"Yes."

Xilun's voice wasn't loud, but it was like ice water falling on iron.

Everyone instinctively straightened up a bit.

Rena looked at him and asked in a low voice, "Are you going straight into town?"

"Let's take a look first."

After Xilun finished speaking, he unbuttoned his trench coat and raised his hand to press down the brim of his hat.

"Come inside with me."

Rena paused for a moment, then immediately agreed.

A moment later, several figures silently disappeared into the night.

The dirt road underfoot was a bit wet, and a stream flowed around the fields outside the town, with the occasional croaking of frogs.

But the closer you get to the town, the fewer natural sounds there are. Instead, you hear hushed arguments behind the windows, barking dogs, and the crisp sound of patrol boots hitting the stone slabs.

Xilun did not move very fast.

His distant hearing was like an invisible net, spreading out inch by inch with his thoughts.

At the left alley entrance, a drunkard was cursing, but the woman inside the house covered his mouth tightly.

In the wooden cabin on the right, two children, too hungry to sleep, were gently panting in bed.

Further away, a patrol of knights was turning back from the main street, their whips lashing the tracks, their horses snorting white smoke, and their carts piled high with sacks of wheat they had just stolen from the fields.

"Hurry up and get the goods to the mill; Mr. Moen needs to take inventory tonight."

"The mayor said those households in the south haven't signed yet?"

"It's going to be signed tomorrow, whether you like it or not..."

The sounds were faint and fragmented, drifting in on the night breeze.

Rena followed beside Xiren, feeling a chill run down her spine. She heard nothing, but she could see Xiren's eyes growing colder and colder, like a thin layer of ice forming in the darkness.

The two hid in a narrow alley and waited for the group of knights to pass by.

The wheels creaked as they rolled over the stone road, and a burlap sack, not properly tied, leaked wheat grains all the way.

There was a young man being dragged behind the car, his hands tied behind his back, and his ankles were chafed and bleeding.

His mouth was gagged with cloth, so he could only make muffled whimpering sounds, but his eyes were still fixed on the knights in front of him, like a small beast that had been driven to desperation.

Rena frowned and lowered her voice: "They took the people with them too."

Xilun didn't answer, but just watched the car disappear around the corner, then suddenly turned and walked deeper into the alley.

There, a man was squatting in front of a low house, his waist bruised and his face swollen, rinsing the blood from the corner of his mouth with well water.

The woman inside the house had red eyes from crying, and she was holding a four- or five-year-old child in her arms. The child wasn't crying, but was just staring blankly out the door, clearly terrified.

Xilun stopped in front of the door.

The man was startled at first, and when he looked up and saw Xilun's attire, he instinctively tried to stand up, but then aggravated his wound and hissed in pain.

"Who are you……"

"Just passing by," Xilen glanced at him. "Where was that car going?"

The man was taken aback, seemingly not expecting the young man to ask so directly.

His eyes darted around, clearly wary.

Rena stepped forward, took out a silver coin from her pocket, and placed it on the stone platform next to the wooden door.

The silver coin jingled, making the woman look over involuntarily.

"Answer the question," Rena said calmly. "It won't involve you."

The man stared at the silver coin, his throat bobbing, and after a long while, he whispered:

"The old mill up north... lately they've been sending all sorts of things there. Wheat, wine, potting mix, land deeds... and disobedient people."

"Floral mud?"

"It's extracted from larkspur." The man lowered his head, his voice hoarse. "Originally, the flower field belonged to several families outside the town, but it was gradually taken over."

First they talked about renting, then about exchanging, and then... they just pulled out a gun and threatened us. Whoever refused to sign would face serious trouble at home.

Siren lowered his gaze slightly: "The mayor, or the Knights?"

The man's face turned pale. After hesitating for a few moments, he gritted his teeth and squeezed out two words.

"They're all the same."

After saying this, he seemed to have exhausted all his courage and quickly added:

"If you're really here on business, you'd better be careful of Moen."

That man wasn't from town. He had connections with the old Shattered Bone Gang and kept a few fearless thugs under his command.

The day before yesterday, a man from a family in the east tried to run away with the land deed, and the next day he was hanged at the entrance of the flower field... his toes barely touching the ground, he was left hanging there all night.

Upon hearing this, the woman inside the house tightened her grip on her child, her eyes almost overflowing with fear.

Reina pursed her lips and didn't press the matter further.

Xilun turned his head and looked towards the south of the town.

Under the cover of night, the field of larks resembled a gray-white ocean tide spread across the ground, and when the moonlight shone upon it, it shimmered with a faint silvery glow. The flowers were not tall, only reaching knee-high, but when they formed a continuous expanse, they created an indescribable, ethereal, and eerie beauty.

Most importantly, that sweet, fishy smell comes from there.

It doesn't smell like flowers; it smells more like honey soaked in blood.

Xiren withdrew his gaze and looked at the man: "How many people are in the old mill?"

"Usually there are twenty or thirty, but tonight... it's hard to say." The man swallowed. "The Knights will take turns going over, Moen's men will be there too, and the mayor sometimes goes as well. I heard they're settling accounts tonight."

Xilun nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

He turned to leave, but the woman inside the house suddenly spoke, her voice very soft, yet trembling violently.

"gentlemen."

Xilun paused in his tracks.

The woman looked at him, her eyes red-rimmed: "If you really can help... could you please save the girl from the Adel family first?"

Her father didn't hand over the land deed today, and he was taken to the mill right after dark. The girl is only fifteen...

Reina's expression changed slightly.

Xilun paused for a moment, then said calmly, "Understood."

As soon as he finished speaking, he turned and disappeared into the night.

Rena quickly caught up and said in a low voice, "Governor, if the mill is really settling accounts tonight, then the account books, land deeds, and witnesses should all be in one place."

"Um."

"So now we—"

"Let's go to the mill first."

Xilun's voice was calm.

Reina could clearly hear that beneath that calm, there was something extremely cold.

The two crossed half of the town, and the further north they went, the narrower and more remote the road became.

The houses gradually thinned out, replaced by weeds, wooden fences, and a dark drainage ditch.

The water in the ditch wasn't deep, but it had a foul, muddy smell. Further ahead stood a tall, old mill.

The mill had long since ceased operations; its exterior walls were mottled, and several windows were boarded up, with only a dim yellow light shining from a corner on the second floor.

Two horse-drawn carts were parked in front of the gate.

Four sentries with guns were standing not far away.

Behind the mill, there was a vast field of larks that were intertwined with the night.

A breeze blows, and the flowers sway gently, like a group of people bowing their heads and laughing silently in the darkness.

Xilun stood behind a dead tree, his gaze sweeping over the surroundings.

The next moment, he suddenly caught a very light, very thin, almost inhuman murmur in his ear.

Not in the mill.

Deeper into the flower field.

It sounded like someone was pressed against the soil, repeatedly reciting something in a low voice.

Xilun's gaze sharpened slightly.

Rena heard nothing, but saw his profile suddenly turn cold.

"What's wrong?"

Xilun slowly withdrew his gaze.

"This matter tonight is not that simple."

After he finished speaking, he raised his hand and made a gesture.

A moment later, in the darkness, a lighter footstep approached.

It was a musketeer sent by Kusso, covered in sweat, speaking in a very low voice.

"Your Excellency, the drainage ditch to the north, the back road, and the driveway have all been blocked. We've also taken out two hidden sentries without alerting anyone inside."

Xilun nodded.

He glanced once more at the old, lit mill, then at the dark night stretching to the far end of the flower field, as if something were weighing it down, and gave a faint, almost imperceptible, smile.

"very good."

"Don't alert them yet."

"I want to see what they're really up to tonight."

On the second floor of the old mill, the wooden door was closed, and strips of cloth were stuffed into the window cracks.

The room was filled with the smells of smoke, alcohol, wax, and damp wood, all mixed together, making one feel suffocated.

A long wooden table was placed in the center, on which lay three account books, two stacks of land deeds, several cloth bags filled with money, and a copper plate.

The plate contained half a plate of crushed lark flower paste, its color a grayish-white with a faint bluish-purple tinge, resembling some kind of stale meat sauce.

Three people were sitting at the table.

Herman, Ferrou, and a man in a black jacket.

The man was in his early thirties, with dark skin and broad shoulders, but his posture was not rude; instead, it had a kind of experienced and relaxed air about him.

His right knuckles were thickened, his thumb and forefinger were covered in calluses, and half of his left ear was missing, as if it had been forcibly cut off.

A faint smile played at the corners of his lips, but his eyes were like a wolf crouching behind a fence at night—not bright, but fixed on.

He was Moen.

After Grossa's death, the Bonebreaker Gang was scattered, with the old brothers, peripheral leaders, and followers all going their separate ways.

Some people ran south, some absconded with their money, and some simply changed their identities, hoping to make a living in this chaos.

Mohn belongs to the latter category.

He was originally someone who crawled out of the poor alleys of the North District. At sixteen, he worked as a doorman for a casino. At eighteen, he joined the Shattered Bone Gang. At twenty, he first picked up a knife and killed someone. Later, relying on his daring, tight-lipped, and good accounting skills, he gradually rose to the position of external affairs manager.

When Grossa was still alive, he had kept accounts for the gang, collected debts, negotiated territories, and witnessed how many small forces were still holding banquets one day, only to have their whole families thrown into the river the next.

Therefore, he understood better than anyone else that in this world, kindness is worth little, while order is what truly matters.

Whoever can instill fear has the right to a share of the spoils.

After the Shattered Bone Gang fell, he didn't think about revenge.

He knew that was beyond his reach.

But he was unwilling to just rot away and die like that.

So he took a few old acquaintances and ventured into the towns of Scamay, Black Birch, and Fog Creek, approached Herman, bribed Ferru's men, and used the Knights' name as a front to conduct a more secure business.

They acquire land, collect goods, and transship them, feeding those above them and themselves as well.

He knew he wasn't doing a good deed.

But he never considered himself a good person.

"Is everyone here?"

Moen stirred the floral foam in the copper dish with his fork and asked casually.

Herman quickly laughed and said, "We're still short of Baker's cartload of wheat, but no rush, let's settle the bigger ones first."

Moen hummed in agreement, his gaze falling on the ledger.

"Let's start with the flower field."

Herman immediately pushed the top ledger over: "Nantian, Xigou, and Baipo are three plots, now totaling 176 mu."

As you previously suggested, we would add another thirty mu after the autumn harvest, bringing the total to two hundred mu before winter. At that time, the yield from a single season of flower sap would at least double.

Moen casually flipped through two pages.

The accounts were kept in great detail, specifying how many acres of land each family originally owned, how the contracts were signed, how much compensation was given, who was willing and who was not, which family had any disputes, and which family could suppress them—all of this was written down clearly.

His fingertip paused when he saw the red crosses on the next few pages.

"These few, still not convinced?"

Herman's smile faded slightly: "A tough nut to crack, always thinking the land belongs to their ancestors. There was another incident today, one of them named Adel instigated people to go to the North District to file a complaint."

Moen raised his eyelids: "Go."

Herman was taken aback.

"If he can actually make it to the North District, that's your incompetence, not my problem."

Moen closed the ledger, his voice neither loud nor soft, "Hermann, I gave you money, I gave you people, and I even kept those troublemakers in town in check for you, not so you could complain to me about how difficult things are."

Hermann's throat tightened, and he quickly forced a smile, "I understand, I understand. The person has been brought and is downstairs, waiting for your instructions."

Ferru's expression darkened slightly, and he finally spoke: "Moen, that's enough. You've taken the land, planted the flowers, and harvested the grain. There's no need to push someone to their death."

Moen turned to look at him.

"Drive someone to their death?" He laughed. "Captain Ferru, you're talking like you've just met me. Or have you suddenly had a change of heart?"

Ferru said expressionlessly, "I just don't want the town to fall into complete chaos."

"You're wrong." Moen threw his fork onto the plate, the metal striking the copper with a crisp clang. "It's not that I made the town chaotic, it's that the world is inherently chaotic."

Tusol was watching the North District. The Brotherhood had swallowed the Bonebreakers, and the Armed Insurgents were watching from the sidelines. Which side really took a place like Scamay seriously?

All they care about are roads, goods, resources, and money. "Today I'm here to harvest the flower fields, tomorrow someone else will come, and it'll be the same."

He leaned back, but his eyes turned cold.

"At least I acquired the land and at least left the town a way to breathe. If I hadn't come, this place would have been torn apart by other mad dogs long ago."

Ferru stared at him: "So you think you did the right thing?"

Moen smiled but didn't answer.

Does it matter whether it's right or wrong?

The important thing is to live, the important thing is to have a gun, and the important thing is that the dead are not our own people.

He never thought about justice.

All he wanted was to feed the dozen or so brothers who relied on him for their livelihood, continue paying the widows who had died, and then get himself a more stable job.

And now, the ship is already in sight.