Lin Gui followed the man through several alleys, arriving at an old residential district in the east of the city.
The Hyena's Fang gathering place was a three-story stone building.
The exterior walls were coated in mortar, and two guards carrying blades stood at the entrance.
The interior was brightly lit and filled with a cacophony of voices that could be heard from half a street away.
Lin Gui didn't use the front door.
He circled to the side, stepped onto some wooden crates in the corner, flipped onto the roof, and slipped inside through a half-open window.
The second floor was a large hall.
A long table was covered with wine and meat, and over twenty people sat around it, clinking glasses and laughing uproariously.
Sitting in the seat of honor was the bald, brawny man from earlier that day—Cohen.
He was the leader of Hyena's Fang, a Mid-tier Transcendent.
Half a roasted lamb was piled on the plate in front of him, and a sheathed broad-bladed sword lay by his hand.
Wine glasses were emptied and refilled repeatedly.
Lin Gui stood in the shadows of the stairway, his Shroud of the Gloomy Night wrapped around his body, making not a single sound.
He was waiting.
Waiting for the man who had followed him to return.
It wasn't long before hurried footsteps echoed from downstairs.
A skinny figure squeezed in through the door, sweating profusely and pale in the face.
Cohen set down his wine glass and wiped his hand.
"Why are you back?"
The skinny man's voice was trembling. "B-boss... I lost him."
The laughter in the hall died down.
Cohen stood up, walked over to him, and looked down at the face contorted with fear.
Then, he smashed his fist into the man's face.
The sound of bone cracking was crisp.
The skinny man flew back, knocking over a chair and slamming onto the floor, his mouth filled with blood.
Cohen didn't stop.
He walked over and stomped on the man's hand.
Crack.
The skinny man screamed in agony, his body curling into a ball as his fingers bent at a bizarre angle.
The surrounding men watched silently; no one spoke, and no one moved.
Cohen gave another kick before turning back to his seat and taking a gulp of wine.
"Useless piece of trash."
The hall became rowdy once more, and laughter rang out again, though it was a bit more subdued than before.
The skinny man lay on the floor, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and staining the floorboards red.
He clutched his broken hand, struggling to crawl up, only to collapse back down.
No one looked at him.
Another person entered through the door.
He wasn't tall, wore a gray robe, and held a piece of paper in his hand.
The laughter in the hall died down once more.
Cohen wiped his hands and glanced at him. "How is it?"
The gray-robed man glanced at the twitching figure on the floor and swallowed hard.
"Boss, the Transport Guild said... I should come back and ask in a week."
He shrank his neck, his voice growing smaller and smaller.
"You know how it is—even if the City Lord went to the guild, he'd have to follow their rules. I really didn't dare..."
He waited for Cohen's fist to fall.
But Cohen didn't move.
Because he had anticipated this.
He sat back in his chair and took another swig of wine.
A brawny man nearby stood up; he was the Vice Leader, a Low-tier Transcendent and a shield warrior.
"How about asking Selena?"
He grinned.
"That wench has spent plenty of time mingling with transport teams over the years. She's bound to know who's in them."
The skinny man on the floor suddenly crawled over with a struggle and grabbed Cohen's ankle.
"Boss! Boss! I know! I have a piece of intel!"
His voice was hoarse, and blood was still bubbling from his mouth.
"That wench... after you left, she was flirting with that mage... and even followed him for a secret meeting in Whitestone Alley..."
Cohen kicked him away. "Scram!"
The skinny man tumbled twice, hitting a table leg, and curled up, not daring to make another sound.
Cohen's expression was ugly.
Every member present knew that Cohen had been pursuing Selena for a long time.
However, the adventure group that woman belonged to wasn't one to be trifled with, so he could only endure.
Having the woman he liked treat him coldly while acting suggestively toward an outsider mage—hearing that was like having his face slapped.
The Vice Leader coughed and brought the topic back.
"Boss, do you think that mage... could really be from a transport team?"
Cohen gave a cold laugh.
"Even if he is from a transport team, so what? He's just one person."
He slammed his wine glass onto the table.
"As long as we kill him before his people find us, burn him to ash, and bury him in the dirt, who will know we did it?"
The Vice Leader's eyes lit up.
"Boss, you mean... like that noble daughter from before?"
Cohen didn't speak, but the curve of his lips said everything.
The Vice Leader knew the boss wanted to boast about that matter, so he turned to the people nearby and gestured.
"That time was truly heart-pounding."
"That wench came from the Central City-States; the power behind her was even greater than the Morton family."
"We didn't know it at the time, but after we kidnapped her and checked, it nearly scared the life out of me."
"And then?" someone nearby leaned in and asked.
The Vice Leader chuckled.
"The boss handled everyone involved and wiped away all the traces."
"When the knight order arrived later, they searched for a week and couldn't find a damn thing."
"In the end, they just found a few scapegoats to wrap things up and left dejectedly."
Cohen laughed loudly and raised his glass.
"To hell with transport teams, nobles, or the Alliance Council. As long as the job is done cleanly, who the hell will know it was us?"
The people around him joined in the laughter, their glasses clinking.
"Boss is wise!"
"That mage is nothing!"
"What the hell is a transport team anyway?!"
"Tomorrow, we'll tie him up and throw him into the wilderness to feed the dogs!"
Cohen lowered his hand, and the laughter gradually died down.
"Letter delivery commissions are our biggest source of income."
"Collecting protection money, kidnapping pariahs to serve as playthings for nobles, fencing stolen goods—at most, that only nets a few thousand gold coins a month."
"But letter delivery is different. One letter is hundreds of gold coins, and one trip is enough for us to live comfortably for months."
His gaze turned chilling.
"I worked hard and paid a heavy price to take this industry over from the Morton family's hands. I won't let some outsider mongrel ruin it."
The Vice Leader hesitated for a moment. "But we lost track of that guy..."
Cohen pulled a flyer from his robe and slapped it onto the table. "He can't run. If he wants to open a post office, he'll have to show his face sooner or later."
Cohen nodded, a cruel smile stretching across his face.
"Tomorrow, find a few men and tie him up."
"Drag him out of the city, burn him to ash, and feed him to the demons."
"I apologized to him and backed down today, scurrying off like a coward. No one will ever suspect us."
The people around him broke into boisterous laughter.
"Boss, that's a brilliant move!"
"That idiot probably thinks he's quite capable."
"Tomorrow, we'll let him know exactly who calls the shots in Whitecliff City!"
The laughter grew louder, and the clinking of glasses rang out more frequently.
Little did they know that the very man they intended to kill was standing right above their heads at this moment.
He was silently listening to the plan they were about to execute.
Rate on N.U.
