I'm not a Witcher anymore.

A few hours later, the noise at the Silver Perch Hotel gradually subsided.

Just as night completely enveloped the window, a deliberately hushed noise finally came from the next room—the sound of boot soles scraping against the wooden board, the soft rattling of belt buckles, and the rustling of someone stuffing something into a bag.

Zieg did not act immediately.

He leaned against the door, patiently waiting until the footsteps faded into the distance along the corridor, the stairs creaked, and finally even the noise of the patrons in the lobby swallowed up the lingering sound, before he pushed open the door and went out.

He went downstairs, left the hotel, and disappeared into the shadows of the street.

After leaving the Silver Perch Inn, the group quickly split into two groups.

Dexter lowered his hat brim and headed alone toward the fish market;

The remaining few people walked downstream along the dimly lit alley, deliberately avoiding the sight of the patrolling militia.

Zig caught up with the group behind him.

Dexter will act as bait; the real operation will take place at the docks.

With Zig's current strength, even from dozens of meters away, he can lock onto a target by the rhythm of their footsteps, the direction of their whispered conversations, and the flickering of the firelight, and he won't lose track of them.

Not long after, the group walked out of the last alley and arrived at a secluded dock downstream.

The river breeze, carrying a damp, fishy smell, swept over us, and the wooden boardwalk groaned softly in the sound of the water.

The group stopped at the end of the dock, and after confirming that no one was around, they quickly slipped into a warehouse.

The warehouse was dilapidated, with many of the wooden shingles missing from the roof, obvious mold and cracks in the walls, and badly rusted door hinges that made a short, dull thud when the door closed—it looked like it had been abandoned for a long time and was usually deserted.

Wind step!

The airflow curled up along the calves.

Using this force, he leaped out of the shadows, leaping dozens of meters in a few bounds, landing beside the warehouse wall, and then using the stacked wooden crates to climb onto the roof.

The plank sank slightly beneath his feet, but the sound was quickly drowned out by the river breeze and the sound of the water.

Zig crouched down near the roof ridge, adjusting his breathing.

Next is waiting.

Half an hour later, intermittent whispers could be heard coming from the warehouse. It was the same group of people who had entered the warehouse earlier arguing in hushed tones. The content of their argument was simple: complaints and repeated confirmation of a certain time.

He didn't move again, his breathing was steady, and his patience was almost indifferent.

For him, waiting was never a torment.

Another hour passed.

The night was darker.

Torches were lit throughout the city, with scattered lights at street corners, sentry posts, and bridgeheads. However, the light only illuminated a small area of ​​the ground, making the darkness outside the torches seem even deeper.

The dock area is even more remote, and the distant firelight, like floating fireflies, cannot reach this place at all.

Zig took out the Order of Cat from his pouch, uncorked it, and drank it down.

After the medicine took effect in his throat, Zig's vision gradually cleared.

The outline of the dock, the texture of the warehouse planks, and the faint light of the torches in the distance all seemed to be gently illuminated, making the details more discernible.

He could see the mold on the wooden planks, distinguish the figures of patrolling farmers in the distance, and catch the faint ripples on the river.

He waited for another ten minutes or so.

Finally, three figures appeared in the distance.

The man at the front was broad-shouldered and carrying a torch; he was Dexter, who had left room number six that evening.

Two people, one short and one tall, followed behind him.

Zieg's gaze paused for a moment as the firelight flickered across the two men's faces.

The people Dexter and his men were going to kidnap tonight turned out to be Zoltan and Dandelion.

Geralt's friend.

How did they get here?

Zieg suppressed his doubts and continued to observe.

"Aren't we there yet?" Dandelion's voice came from below, full of complaint and unease. "We've been walking for almost half an hour, where is this captain you mentioned? Are you playing us for a fool?"

The fat man leading the way turned around, a seemingly sincere smile on his face:

"We're almost there, Master Dandelion. The dock is just ahead, about two more minutes at most."

Zoltan frowned, then touched the axe on his back, which made him feel a little more at ease.

But his intuition still told him that something was wrong.

This dwarf has spent most of his life in war.

A few years earlier, he had also participated in the Battle of Brenner—a crucial battle in the Second Nilfgaardian War.

Therefore, he has an almost instinctive sensitivity to danger.

The middleman's smile was so fake, it looked like a mask stuck to his face.

His walking posture was also problematic; his steps were slightly stiff, and he would occasionally look back, as if checking something.

Dandelion clearly hadn't noticed these details.

The bard simply tightened his cloak and complained:

"We just want to find a boat to leave Ben Green, why are we being treated like thieves?"

"Because all the ships are now under control, we have to act like thieves... I mean, we have to be careful," Dexter explained, sounding quite reasonable.

"To prevent the men in black or their spies from crossing the river, the army sealed off all the docks. It was impossible for any boat to leave Ben Green during the day; only under the cover of night could they avoid the patrolling soldiers."

"I've already spoken to the captain. As soon as you pay, he'll set sail immediately. Novigrad is at the mouth of the Pontal River, and he guarantees he'll get you there quickly and safely."

"Really?" Dandelion asked, half-believing.

"Of course it's true, Master Dandelion," the fat man assured him, patting his chest. "I, Dexter, have been in Ben Green for so many years, and I got my position as a middleman based on my reputation. You can rest assured."

Zoltan didn't speak, but he had already quietly taken the battle axe off his back and held it in his hand.

The three of them soon arrived at the dilapidated warehouse.

Under the moonlight, the warehouse appeared even more eerie, its dilapidated roof resembling bared fangs, and the entrance a dark, gaping hole, obscuring the view inside.

Dandelion looked around and asked in confusion:

"Where's the ship you mentioned? I can't see it. Could it be in the warehouse?"

"Of course," Dexter's smile suddenly turned sinister, and he raised his voice, shouting, "Hey, come out, all of you! What are you hiding for!"

No sooner had the words been spoken than people rushed out simultaneously from behind the warehouse door, from the shadows of the side wall, and from beside the stacked wooden crates.

Several men, wielding clubs, daggers, and rusty swords, surrounded Dandelion and Zoltan in the firelight, quickly trapping them between them.

The firelight illuminated their faces, revealing barely concealed greed and ferocity.

Dandelion's face turned deathly pale, and his voice trembled:

"What...what are you doing?"

Zoltan spat into his palm, gripped his battle axe tightly, and said in a deep voice:

"Can't you see? These idiots think we're easy prey." He turned and glared at Dandelion, gritting his teeth as he cursed, "I should have fucking known this! What reliable people does Dandelion know? It's always the same, every single time!"

Dandelion jumped up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and retorted excitedly:

"What do you mean by that? What do you mean everyone I know is unreliable? If you're so smart, why can't you think of a way to leave Ben Green?"

"Alright, alright, stop arguing," Dexter interrupted impatiently. "Don't worry, you two, we don't want your lives. As long as you cooperate honestly, explain the way through the ruins of Fujian, and lead us away from those demons to find what we're looking for, we might spare your lives."