Pursuers

Behind him was a thin, frail vagrant draped from head to toe in a filthy, tattered piece of cloth, reeking as if just dug out of a weeks-old pile of garbage.

The ragged cloth obscured their face, revealing only one hand clutching a rolled-up quilt and the other clutching a crumpled one-pound banknote, a corner of which poked through the fingers.

Unsure whether they had heard Lynch's warning, the vagrant turned and fled without looking back.

Raggedly dressed vagrants were not uncommon in Rhine City, but this person's stench exceeded the tolerance of the gentlefolk, drawing a chorus of curses from those nearby. Seeing the figure approach, the surrounding people instinctively moved aside, clearing a path while simultaneously blocking gaps in other directions.

That should be her—Maya.

He had finally found her.

A surge of excitement rose in Lynch's chest. He quickly scanned his surroundings and saw the stakeout agents shoving pedestrians aside as they gave chase after the vagrant.

Lynch's eyes darted around. Just as a middle-aged woman was knocked down by one of the pursuers, a man's scream suddenly erupted from above them: “Ah! Why are you hitting people? Everyone, look! Someone's beating people in broad daylight!”

A crowd immediately swarmed over. Though it only caused a delay of a second or two, a breach opened in the encirclement. Slippery as a sea snake, the vagrant quickly darted into the crowd.

Worried there might still be an ambush, Lynch held little Martha tightly and prepared to follow. But before he could take a step, he felt the little girl's hands grip his shoulder tightly as she leaned in close to his ear.

“Not her.”

Huh? Lynch stopped before he even started moving.

“That's not reporter sister. It's a stranger.”

Lynch immediately realized what the banknote in the person's hand meant—they were likely an ordinary vagrant temporarily hired as a decoy.

However, since she had already used a decoy to lure the watchers away, then the next step...

He immediately looked around, and sure enough, another frail figure dressed as a vagrant was hiding at the corner of a building, waving at him and Martha.

Nudging Martha to prompt her confirmation, Lynch glanced toward the vagrants by the train station entrance.

Huh? It seemed that due to the commotion, those people had also fled and were now nowhere to be seen.

Lynch frowned, not thinking too much of it. Seeing little Martha nod excitedly, he surveyed the area to ensure no one was watching them, then strode quickly toward the corner of the building.

Calling it a corner was generous; it was actually a gap between two station buildings, barely half a meter wide, dark, and cramped, its ground littered with various debris—filthy and chaotic.

Carrying the girl along the street, Lynch strode up to the corner, but walked straight past the gap. After taking a few steps, he suddenly spun around and doubled back.

The square remained just as chaotic. The watchers were chasing the fleeing decoy into the distance, and several clueless blue uniforms were attempting to maintain order. He didn't spot anyone tailing him from behind.

Should be fine, right? Lynch had only learned this level of counter-surveillance techniques from movies and TV shows. Though still somewhat uneasy, he gripped his cane tightly and slipped into the gap.

Standing in the shadows of the crevice was a figure of petite stature, wearing dirty, worn-out clothes, a flat cap pulled low over the eyes, and a scarf wrapped tightly around the face. The figure also gave off a foul stench of garbage, which significantly masked the odor of decay.

Seeing someone enter, the figure immediately shrank into the darkness before a female voice spoke: “Martha?”

“Reporter sister? Why do you look like this?” little Martha asked in confusion.

“Who is he?”

“This is Uncle Lynch, he—”

“Let's go first. We'll talk in detail once we get out of here. There's an ambush.”

Lynch cut off the two women's reunion. He pressed against the gap's entrance to listen, then leaned out to look. Outside, the pursuers had moved far away, and the square had regained some calm, but for some reason, Lynch couldn't shake the sensation of being watched.

“This way. The railway tracks are right through here. Follow me.”

Tugging her flat cap down to conceal her face, the female reporter walked deeper into the gap. Seeing Lynch holding Martha and keeping up closely, she whispered:

“Who on earth are you?”

“Someone trying to help you. I've been searching for you for days... Your problem is very serious and must be resolved as soon as possible.”

Lynch explained what he had been through over the past few days in the simplest terms while following the female reporter through the gloomy passage. Looking down along the way, he saw little Martha nestled in his arms, her large, azure eyes blinking up at him, her face full of astonishment and admiration. Pinching her little cheek affectionately, Lynch leaned against the exit of the gap, peering out alongside the female reporter.

“I came today hoping to get in touch with you and arrange a place to meet and talk in detail. Trust me, I genuinely want to help you, but not right now. I have to take little Martha back first. You should know how bizarre this situation is—it's deadly for an ordinary person. Martha, hush. Think about your mother. Leave the rest to me; I promise to do everything I can to help your reporter sister.”

The female reporter was visibly hesitant, but after looking at little Martha, she finally nodded. “Follow me. I'll show you where to find me.”

Outside lay the other side of the station: four long platforms where several loaded freight trains were parked, workers sweating profusely as they shoveled coal into the carriages, and seven or eight long railway tracks extending from the platforms into the far distance.

With many workers coming and going, the female reporter waved to Lynch, quietly slipping past the workers' lines of sight through the couplings between carriages. She then followed a rust-covered track deep into the station grounds. In a desolate clearing, several weed-choked, scrapped carriages lay haphazardly strewn about.

The carriage graveyard—the place where the train station dumped decommissioned train carriages.

“Vagrants stay here at night, but there are rarely people during the day. After leaving the wooden cabin, I've been staying here these past two days. It should be safe.”

The female reporter looked back once more. Behind them lay an open view of the tracks, the environment completely clear. Confirming that no one had followed, she breathed a sigh of relief and took the lead into one of the carriages.

The long carriage felt considerably more luxurious than those from his previous life, featuring booths formed by long sofas, some of which bore signs of recent living.

“I don't know why you want to help me, just as I don't know what's happening to my body, but I know you must have a motive, and I can probably guess some of it. Listen, I accidentally caught Grant from the House of Commons conspiring with a group of monsters, and they mentioned a strange name called Mor... Fine, I won't bring it up for now. In any case, I imagine you sought me out because of this. Yes, I do know the details, but it can't be explained in just a few sentences. If you want detailed information, you must come back and help me out of this predicament after you send her away.”

“Why not go to the police? Given your profession, you should know that besides the Rangers, there are the Watchers. Do you not trust them?”

The female reporter didn't answer, merely pointing at Martha. Ignoring Martha's protests, Lynch conscientiously covered the little girl's eyes. Only then did the female reporter lift her hat and lower her scarf slightly.

Her features were unrecognizable. Her eyes were murky and dark red, the skin on her face had turned like rubber, and the corners of her mouth were slit all the way to the base of her ears, revealing shark-like sharp teeth inside. The sight sent chills down the spine.

Fortunately, having seen the photos beforehand, Lynch didn't suffer psychic shock, but a chill still gripped his heart, and he let out a soft sigh.

The female reporter silently pulled up her scarf and led the two through the long carriage, leaping down from the other end. The three wound through the cluttered abandoned carriages and soon reached the base of the train station's outer wall. Climbing over the wall would take them outside the station grounds, directly facing the normal streets of the Cross District.

“Once you send her away, you must come back to help me,” the female reporter's voice suddenly choked up. “I don't want to stay like this forever. Even if I die, I want to turn back first before dying.”

“I will come back. I promise.”

“Mm...”

Before her words could finish, an ear-grating screech of tearing metal suddenly came from behind them. The sound was somewhat distant, coming from the very spot where the female reporter had just been hiding.

The three immediately ducked behind the nearest scrap carriage to peer out cautiously, only to see four sharp claws suddenly burst through the metal carriage roof. Like a hot knife cutting through butter, the claws easily tore open the metal shell, circling around to rip the carriage in half from left to right.

Behind the carriage stood a humanoid monster nearly three meters tall, almost identical to the ones in the earlier photographs. Shreds of tattered clothing hung from its body, and several vagrants followed behind it—the very same ones who had vanished from the station entrance earlier. Some of their bodies had already begun to swell, sharp claws growing from their hands.

Surrounding the empty carriage, the monsters let out low, furious growls.

Damn it. The ghouls caught up after all.