Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The girl did not approach.

She just watched.

There was no pleading or resentment in his eyes, only the emptiness of extreme hunger.

The convoy drove past her.

Kusso muttered under his breath, "This godforsaken place..."

Xilun did not speak.

The South District is worse than when he last came.

At that time, there were long queues outside the pharmacy; people were at least still waiting.

Many people don't even have the energy to queue anymore.

There's a reason why the Black Death cult was able to take root here.

When order only involves taxation, arrests, and expulsions, when nobles only want to blockade neighborhoods, and when doctors' medicine is so expensive that the poor can't even afford it, anyone willing to offer a single pill can be seen as a savior.

Even if there's a knife hidden behind that medicine.

The convoy turned into Fishbone Alley.

The alley was narrow, the ground was uneven, and sewage flowed slowly from the ditches on both sides.

Xilun suddenly raised his hand.

The convoy stopped.

Everyone immediately went on alert.

Kusso asked in a low voice, "Young Master?"

Xilun looked towards the corner ahead.

There was a corpse lying there.

The body, dressed in tattered overalls, lay face down beside the sewage, one hand outstretched towards the center of the alley, fingers bent, as if trying to grasp something before dying.

Such corpses are not uncommon in the southern district.

Ke Xilun noticed that the sewage around the body was not flowing normally.

They were circling the corpse very slightly.

It looks like something is breathing underwater.

Xilun raised his right hand.

A wisp of cold air spread silently.

A thin layer of frost condensed on the surface of the sewage in the ditch.

The next instant, the corpse's back suddenly split open!

A dozen or so dark red fleshy strands sprang out of the corpse's cavity, lashing out like whips at the horses at the front.

Kusso reacted extremely quickly, raising his gun and firing immediately.

boom!

The lead bullet broke three strands of meat.

The remaining shredded meat still pounced, its tips splitting open to reveal fine teeth.

Xilun took a step forward.

The sewage in the ditch suddenly split apart, turning into two murky lines that wrapped around the shredded meat from the side.

The waterline is tightened.

The shredded meat was forcibly pulled off course and slammed against the wall, sending brick fragments flying.

Kusso seized the opportunity and fired two shots.

The corpse's head exploded.

But the fleshy strands didn't die immediately; instead, they twisted wildly, trying to crawl back into the corpse cavity.

Xilun drew his short blade, a chilling aura enveloping the blade, and slashed down.

Crack.

The corpse, along with the mass of flesh on its back, was frozen and cracked open.

A stench suddenly erupted.

Several gunmen nearly vomited, but they managed to hold it in.

Xilun took a half step back: "Purification Powder."

A gunman immediately stepped forward and sprinkled white powder on the body.

The dark red meat shreds made a slight sizzling sound, as if they had been doused with hot oil, and quickly shrank into a charred mess.

Kusso's face darkened: "What is this thing?"

"Corpse trap".

Xilun looked at the things on the ground.

There is a small bone needle in the middle of the shredded meat, with tiny symbols engraved on it.

The texture of the hand bones in the wooden box bears some resemblance.

"They already knew we would take this route."

Kusso's pupils contracted: "The covert network has been exposed too?"

"Perhaps it's not an exposure."

Siren looked up into the depths of the alley, "but their eyes are everywhere in the South District."

The convoy continued on, but at a slower pace.

The number of corpses increased as the journey continued.

Some are genuine dead, while others are hidden foci and traps of the Black Death cult.

Xiren did not allow his men to touch anything indiscriminately.

He uses his water-sensing talent to sense the flow of sewage. If the water flow around a corpse is abnormal, he will either bypass it or deal with it from a distance.

This allowed the team to avoid at least three attacks.

Kusso watched all this, and his heart grew heavier.

Without the young master, these eight people would probably have lost half of their number as soon as they entered the South District.

The Black Death Cult is unlike any other gang.

They don't need to charge out head-on and fight desperately.

A corpse, a well, a piece of moldy bread—any of these could be a killer.

Three blocks from the Old St. Mary's Bell Tower, the first living people appeared ahead.

A dozen or so patients stood at the street corner.

They were dressed in gray-white hospital gowns, their faces wrapped in bandages, and carrying oil lamps.

The flickering lights illuminated the gaunt faces.

They had no weapons.

He just stood there quietly.

Kusso whispered, "Young Master, what should we do?"

Xilun looked at those people.

The patients were also watching the convoy.

A middle-aged woman took half a step forward, her voice hoarse: "Sir, which way is the hospital?"

She was holding a child in her arms.

The child's hand hung limply outside, motionless.

"We can't find a hospital," the woman said softly. "Someone told us that we could find medicine by following a car."

The expressions of the Brotherhood gunmen changed slightly.

They can fire at the enemy.

However, it is difficult to fire a gun at a group of patients.

Kusso gritted his teeth and said, "Don't come any closer!"

The woman stopped in her tracks.

She looked down at the child in her arms and suddenly smiled.

The smile was faint and empty.

"But the child is cold."

She continued walking forward.

Other patients followed suit.

A dozen or so oil lamps flickered in the fog, like will-o'-the-wisps drifting by.

Xilun's eyes darkened slightly.

He could hear their heartbeats.

Some were very weak, some were chaotic, and some... were not at all.

The child in that woman's arms had died long ago.

Not just children.

There were at least four corpses walking among the patients.

The Black Death cult mixed the living and the dead together, forcing them to make a choice.

Xilun raised his hand.

"Smoke bomb".

Kusso immediately understood and gestured to both sides.

boom!boom!

Two smoke grenades exploded at the street corner.

Thick smoke billowed.

The patient queue immediately descended into chaos, with some coughing and others screaming.

Siren did not order the shooting to begin.

His palms were facing down.

The sewage in the street ditch suddenly surged up, splitting into several streams that wrapped around the ankles of the living people and precisely entangled the four heartless corpses.

The next moment, the corpses all sprang up simultaneously!

Their chests and abdomens split open, and black and red fleshy strands bloomed like flowers.

But the water ropes had already been tightened, dragging them forcefully to the ground.

"Beat the meatballs!"

Kusso roared.

Gunshots rang out one after another.

The four corpses were beaten until their flesh and blood were splattered everywhere.

Xilun raised a finger and pressed down, sending the sewage-laden purification powder onto the surface, crushing the remaining meat shreds into a sizzling black sludge.

After the smoke cleared, the surviving patients collapsed to the ground, watching the scene in horror.

The woman holding the dead child stood there, stunned.

She seemed to realize then that the child in her arms had already stopped breathing.

She looked down for a long time, then suddenly let out a broken, inhuman cry.

Xilun did not go to offer comfort.

He didn't have time to offer comfort.

"Leave them two packets of purifying powder and cough medicine."

Kusso paused for a moment, then quickly did as instructed.

The convoy drove past the patient.

The woman knelt by the roadside, holding her child, without looking up.

Xilun sat back in the car, his fingers clenching slightly under his sleeve.

The Black Death was very clever.

They knew how to slow down the escort team, how to wear down people's judgment, and how to turn goodwill into a weakness.

If every street were like this, the convoy would never be able to arrive on time.

The early ringing of the Old St. Mary's Bell Tower was perhaps intended to force them to hurry up and make mistakes.

"Young Master," Kusso whispered, "someone is following us."

Xilun did not turn back.

He had already heard it.

Two streets away, a group of footsteps kept their distance.

His steps were steady and well-trained.

He wasn't a patient of the Black Death cult, nor did he resemble a member of the Southern District gangs.

They are more like members of an armed insurgent party.

Albert did indeed send a second group.

Xilun was not surprised.

The new CEO won't put all his bets on him.

fair enough.

With eyes behind him, he can at least record some things for him.

The convoy passed through Fishbone Lane and entered a wider, abandoned driveway.

In the distance, the Old St. Mary's Bell Tower finally appeared in the fog.

The spire of the clock tower was broken off, and the huge clock face stopped at 11:17.

The main church building below the dial has long been abandoned, and most of the stained glass windows are broken, leaving only a few pieces of red and blue, which look like congealed blood under the fog lights.

A person was standing at the entrance of the clock tower.

The man was wearing a gray coat belonging to an armed insurgent and had a red and black identification scarf around his neck.

He saw the convoy and slowly raised his right hand.

Kusso whispered, "The one who's there to meet us?"

Xilun did not answer.

He looked at the man.

The other party stood very straight, and their movements were in line with the habits of the armed insurgent party.

But his coat was too clean.

After waiting for so long in a place like the South District, the soles of my boots should be muddy by now.

More importantly, Xiren couldn't hear him breathing.

The motorcade stopped twenty paces outside the clock tower.

The man spoke, his voice hoarse and flat.

"Crows do not roost in cemeteries."

Xilun stood on the carriage shaft, looking down at him.

According to the note, he should answer—the patient will guard the door for it.

But he didn't.

The wind whistled through the hole in the clock tower.

Behind the convoy, Kusso and eight gunmen had already quietly raised their guns.

Suddenly, Xiren asked, "Where is Gray?"

The man remained silent for a moment.

This breath is very short.

It's so short that ordinary people wouldn't even notice anything unusual.

But for Xilun, that's enough.

"An underground warehouse," the man replied.

"Let him out."

"He's injured and can't come out."

"Where is the injury?"

The man fell silent for a moment.

Xilun raised his hand.

Gunfire suddenly erupted!

Kuso's first shot shattered the man's chest.

The "receiver" fell backward, his chest cavity bursting open, but no blood gushed out; instead, large clumps of black, worm-like material oozed from the wound.

At the same instant, a flurry of footsteps echoed inside the clock tower.

Behind the broken stained-glass windows of the church, oil lamps were lit one by one.

The dim light illuminated dozens of figures.

Some people are wearing hospital gowns.

Some people were wearing black robes.

Someone is wearing a bird beak mask.

Several other contorted figures were lying on the wall, their limbs bent backward, like wild beasts reshaped by illness.

Kusso roared, "Ambush!"

Xiren's eyes were calm.

That's not all.

He could sense that there was heavier moisture, deeper cavities, and some kind of slowly creeping source of pollution beneath the clock tower.

The hand bones inside the wooden box also trembled slightly at that moment.

It was as if it were responding to a call from something underground.

Xilun drew his pistol; the sound was not loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears.

"The convoy retreated ten steps, forming a semi-circle."

"Kuso, guard the cargo boxes."

"No one is allowed to enter the clock tower without my order."

Everyone acted quickly.

Inside the clock tower, a black-robed figure wearing a silver-threaded bird-beak mask slowly emerged.

He stood in front of the dilapidated church, like a doctor preparing to welcome a guest.

"Mr. Celen."

His voice was gentle, even polite.

"You are more cautious than I thought."

Siren looked at him: "Grey is dead?"

"He found peace."

"You have obtained the code of the armed insurgents."

"Pain makes people say a lot."

The doctor in the black robe said softly, "But please believe me, I don't like pain itself. Pain is just a door; only after passing through it can one understand the mercy of decay."

Kusso spat: "Playing tricks."

The doctor in the black robe didn't look at him, but stared at Xiren.

"We don't want your lives. Leave behind the sacred relics and the three traitors, and you can leave with your people."

"What if I refuse?" asked Xilun.

"Then there will be a few more excellent lesions in the South District tonight."

The doctor in the black robe sighed, "Especially you. Your vitality is beautiful, like a fire that hasn't gone out in winter. Offering you to the Mother Nest will surely reduce the suffering of many patients."

Upon hearing these words, Xilun suddenly understood something.

These Black Death cultists did not realize they were killing people.

They felt they were distributing the pain.

Crushing some people's bodies in exchange for a moment of peace for others.

This logic is distorted, yet self-consistent enough.

That's why they are harder to sway than ordinary madmen.

"You want to save the South District?" Xilun asked.

The doctor in the black robe tilted his head slightly.

"Save?" He repeated the word softly, as if it were a foreign word to him. "The Southern District is beyond saving. The nobles won't save it, the church can't save it, the military will only impose a blockade, and the pharmaceutical companies will only raise prices. What we can do is make death meaningful."

Xilun slowly raised the muzzle of his gun.

"Have the people you chose agreed?"

The doctor in the black robe remained silent.

Gunshots rang out again.

The lead bullet tore through the fog and headed straight for the bird-beak mask.

Suddenly, a monstrous lesion lunged out in front of the doctor in the black robe, using its twisted body to block the bullet.

The battle erupted completely at this moment.

The worshippers and patients inside the bell tower rushed out.

The fraternity gunmen, propelled by a truck, opened fire, the flashes of pistols and rifles illuminating the mist. Purifying powder was hurled into the air, landing on the oncoming lesions and scorching large patches of black.

Kuso stood guard beside the wooden crate like an enraged bear, each shot driving back the monsters that tried to approach the carriage.

Siren did not rush into the clock tower.

He stood at the front of the convoy, feeling every wisp of water vapor around him.

The southern area is damp.

There is water everywhere here.

Sewage ditches, wall cracks, mist, blood foam from patients' mouths, and viscous pathogenic fluid inside monsters.

These things used to be just dangerous.

It can also be a weapon now.

Xilun's five fingers were slightly spread.

Sewage from two roadside ditches suddenly rose up, turning into dozens of thin water lines that cut across the swarming lesions.

The waterline wasn't clean, but it was sharp enough.

Several monstrous creatures with lesions had their legs and feet cut off on the spot, and they rolled and fell to the ground.

Kusso's eyelids twitched violently.

He knew that the young master had changed after returning from Greywater River, but he never expected that this ability would be so terrifying in a place like the South District, where filth was everywhere.

The doctor in the black robe saw it too.

A flicker of emotion finally appeared in the eyes behind the bird-beak mask.

"Waterbending..."

He murmured softly.

Then, his gaze toward Xilun became even more intense.

That's not greed.

It's more like the excitement a doctor feels when they see a rare case.

"I see. No wonder the sacred bones responded to you."

Xilun caught the words and felt a slight sinking feeling in his heart.

Will the Relic Society respond to him?

Was it because of the black aura mark, or because of the water-dividing talent he had just acquired?

There was no time to think about it in detail.

From deep within the clock tower, a second chime suddenly rang out.

when--

This sound was deeper than the previous one.

The ground trembled slightly.

The wooden crate inside the truck suddenly jolted, and a little black liquid seeped out from the sealed lead sheet.

The sounds of struggle came from the carriage where the three prisoners were located at the same time.

Especially Brian, who seemed so ordinary.

The sound of him hitting the car floor was so loud it was unlike anything an ordinary person could make.

Kusso turned around and roared, "Keep an eye on the prisoners!"

But it was too late.