Ambush

Lynch did not want to put little Martha in danger. He only intended to figure out how she used the memo board.

Entrusted by Officer Natalie, Lynch did not actually plan to let Martha make contact with Maya at this time. That was far too dangerous, but for a child, forcing her to stop would be useless. He had to use indirect methods.

He planned to send little Martha home after she used the memo board, then return to leave a message for Maya using Donnie's code, arranging a meeting to talk in detail.

If Maya were willing to show up, that would be for the best. If she were not, she would have used little Martha's contact method, and Maya would naturally conclude that Martha was unreliable and would no longer have any contact with her. In either case, little Martha's safety would be guaranteed, and she would no longer be entangled in such dangerous affairs.

His plan was sound, but the stench of decay threw everything into disarray.

It was a classic ghoul scent.

Was it a sewer ghoul? A hillman ghoul? Or was it Maya?

Lynch made a judgment after a brief analysis: it could not be the first two.

The memo board was right next to the station square, only six or seven hundred meters away from the Watchers' Scarecrow Club. Those idle Soul Severer officers went to the square almost every day to buy coffee and snacks, wasting time. Unless the Watchers and the ghouls had reached some sort of agreement, the ghouls would not dare to stalk the square so brazenly.

And the probability of the Watchers being the problem... Lynch had never doubted the Watchers. At least, he did not believe Officer Natalie would lie to him so thoroughly.

Therefore, the one who left the scent was likely Maya herself, who did not understand the mystery world.

Furthermore, this ghoul scent was exceptionally clear. Being so noticeable in a crowded, open-air area, it was obvious it had not been left long ago.

At most, it was from last night or this morning.

It was even possible that she was still in the vicinity.

Perhaps this was the closest he had ever been to the female reporter.

Lynch took a deep breath, bent down, and picked up little Martha. Regardless of anything else, the little one's safety was the top priority.

Protecting the little girl in his arms, Lynch stood outside the crowd at the memo board, just like any other traveler waiting to leave a message. Surrounded by others with the same intention, he used them as cover and scanned his surroundings.

The environment was chaotic.

Turbid waste steam rose from the roadside sewers, and the roar from the trains whistling past sounded like the snarling of monsters, echoing from the deep, long sewers.

Not far away was the entrance to the train station. Travelers were constantly moving in and out, their luggage dragging across the stone tiles at the station entrance.

On one side of the entrance was an open-air rest area where many neatly dressed gentlemen and ladies sat at round tables for a short break. Outside the rest area were several stalls selling coffee and snacks, with lines so long they seemed endless.

A few vagrants were leaning against the station wall, basking in the sun and picking at lice, their dirty luggage piled to the side, looking quite leisurely.

On the other side of the entrance was the memo board, with a large crowd gathered around it, heads bobbing and voices clamoring.

Everything looked like it did on any other day.

No, I cannot find her.

Without professional training and without a target, it was difficult to spot a suspicious individual among the countless faces nearby.

Lynch felt a surge of agitation, but then he reconsidered. She had been hiding, and her sudden appearance in such a crowded place as the train station was likely for the sake of checking this memo board. This meant she was also waiting for someone to contact her. Combined with her previous use of little Martha to deliver photos, the person she was hoping to contact was likely Martha, and she was waiting for a reply or expecting further help.

Then I should not be anxious. If she is not nearby, I will proceed with the original plan. If she is nearby, and since neither I nor Martha are disguised, she will definitely see us. I might not recognize her, but she will certainly recognize Martha. She should not miss this opportunity.

I just need to wait for her to contact me.

Lynch took a deep breath to calm his thoughts, held the girl, and slowly squeezed into the crowd around the memo board. Only once he was surrounded by the crowd did he lean close to her ear and whisper a warning.

"Listen, I know you want to contact your reporter friend, but she is in trouble recently, and it is very serious. Remember, you likely won't be in danger while leaving the message, but if any sudden situation occurs, hold onto me tight. Do not let go of me, and definitely do not run away. I will try my best to protect you. If we really get separated, go to the Scarecrow Club immediately and find Auntie Natalie, do you understand?"

Little Martha nodded, seeming to understand but not quite grasping the gravity of it.

Lynch patted her small head, carried her to the front of the memo board, and watched her pick up the chalk to leave a message.

As Martha wrote, Lynch continued to look around. As he watched, he suddenly realized something was wrong.

Someone was watching this place, and there were quite a few of them.

Over at the coffee tables, two gentlemen were holding coffee cups without having taken a single sip, their gazes drifting toward this side from time to time. Their gazes were scattered and lacked a specific target, suggesting they were watching the entire area around the memo board.

Next to the station entrance, a casual laborer was smoking in the shade, but he had rolled a cigarette and lit it only to let it burn down without taking a single puff, all while sneakily staring at the memo board.

Then there was the carriage waiting nearby. A driver had already refused inquiries from two sets of passengers, his hat pulled low to cover his eyes, but his face remained turned toward this side.

These people were definitely suspicious. The more Lynch looked, the more alarmed he became. Fortunately, his and Martha's behavior was the same as everyone else's, so they did not draw attention, which eased his mind slightly.

Are they stalking? Who are they?

They were all human, showing no features of ghouls, and were mostly just ordinary people. Conducting such blatant surveillance right at the Watchers' doorstep?

Hisss, I fear they might be Rangers and police from the Hall of Order.

Lynch realized he had overlooked one thing. If he could smell the stench of decay, others could certainly smell it too. If he could link it to Maya, others could easily link it to her as well. The Rangers were already looking for Maya, so it was not strange for them to track the scent here.

No, if Maya falls into their hands and they turn her over to the ghouls, that would be a disaster.

Creak, creak.

The sound of the chalk stopped.

Looking closely, the memo board was scribbled over, and a new line of text had appeared.

"XYZ: 6 pies, 8:00."

It was a baffling message, inconspicuous among the rest of the board. It seemed this female reporter was consistently cautious, being so cryptic even when contacting an informant.

"Don't show a strange expression. Write one more line," Lynch whispered. "Ambush, escape."

Little Martha's body suddenly stiffened, and her breathing became rapid, but she maintained her innocent expression. She turned back to the board, erased the final 8:00, changed it to 24:00, and added three exclamation marks at the end.

Just as she was making the changes, Lynch suddenly smelled another foul odor.

It was not the stench of rotting flesh, but a very turbid scent, like that of a garbage dump and a sewer.

Then, he felt something touching his pocket from behind. He could not distinguish whether someone was stealing something or stuffing something inside.

Lynch reacted instantly. Only one stench could mask another.

If someone covered in the stench of decay wanted to avoid being noticed, the only way was to become something that was already foul-smelling.

For instance, that group of dirty, slovenly vagrants.

He looked toward the station entrance. Without realizing it, the number of vagrants had decreased by a few, and the movements of the person behind him suddenly stopped.

Because little Martha had finished her changes.

"Run, go to the Scarecrow Club for reinforcements."

Lynch said softly without leaving a trace. The movement behind him stopped abruptly, followed by the sound of someone leaving. The few people nearby who had been stalking also made their move, circling toward this side.