Chapter Forty: Surrounded

The three of them left the tavern, and Little Spoon couldn’t help but look back and complain, “That guy insulted our country so much, why didn’t any of you react?”
“Uh,” Kevin seemed a bit embarrassed and didn’t know how to answer for a moment.
“You’re a bard, aren’t you? Don’t you have to defend the nation’s image?” Little Spoon pressed.
“Well, you’re right.” Kevin sighed helplessly; this was one of those big principles—sometimes the more you tried to refute, the more petty you seemed.
“Never mind, I was just saying.” Little Spoon realized her own words may have been over the top and apologized instinctively.
“It’s fine, it really was my fault,” Kevin replied. “But wearing so little around here could be dangerous for you.”
“Hmph, I just can’t stand the way he talks about our people,” Little Spoon said, still indignant. “I did it on purpose.”
Kevin glanced back and saw a few heads quickly duck out of sight—clearly, they were being followed. The way Little Spoon was dressed was simply too provocative for this backward place, almost like an angel among mortals, and it was impossible not to attract attention.
“There are people behind us,” Kevin reminded her.
“It’s fine,” Little Spoon waved it off, “After all, I’m—”
“Shh!” Kevin cut her off urgently. “Don’t reveal your strength in public unless you’re truly invincible.”
“Oh.” Little Spoon nodded.
They made their way home, their pursuers trailing behind but taking no further action. When they entered, Laurel and Little Nine were already there, and a massive burlap sack sat on the table. Seeing everyone return, and especially noticing Little Spoon’s attire, they were slightly surprised. “Why are you dressed like that?”
“It’s too hot,” Little Spoon answered offhandedly.
“Aaah!” Little Nine squealed with delight and threw herself at Little Spoon. “You look so pretty!” Little Spoon hugged her back, the two girls evidently very close.
Laurel yanked open the sack, revealing a corpse. “This is someone we were investigating. Kevin, pull down his trousers and see if it’s the one.”
Kevin: “…”
Kevin was resigned. He’d explained several times already—he’d merely suggested there might be bruises. But after all this time, they still insisted he check. Was this thoroughness or just mechanical routine?
But Kevin was used to obeying orders, however arbitrary, after so long in the army. So he simply checked, wrinkled his brow, and said, “This one’s got a rotten backside.”
“So, it’s not him?” Laurel confirmed.
“No,” Kevin replied.
Laurel quickly closed the bag, a flash of white light at his fingertip, and the corpse vanished into his spatial ring. With a wave, another body appeared on the table. “Check this one.”
Kevin, with no other choice, complied, but again he shook his head. Laurel produced another, and another—Kevin examined six bodies in a row, and each time shook his head.
“Looks like our investigation hasn’t yielded results yet. Tonight, the three of us will continue,” Laurel instructed the two female assassins.
“Yes,” they replied.
Kevin was curious about what exactly they were investigating but did not ask. However, if they would all be gone tonight, some security measures would be needed.
“Laurel, tonight give me these six corpses,” said Kevin.
“What for?” Everyone was puzzled.
“To put on the beds,” Kevin replied.
Everyone: “…”
“Then how are we supposed to sleep?” Jack couldn’t help asking.
“Could the three of you please take us somewhere else tonight? With your skills, it shouldn’t be difficult,” Kevin said, giving Little Spoon a pointed look. “For safety’s sake.”
“Alright,” Laurel agreed, also glancing at her. “I understand.”
As the sun set and darkness fell, those who had been out enjoying the breeze retreated indoors. At night, the kingdom of Labociel truly belonged to the darkness—a time for killing and arson. There were never any guards patrolling the streets; even the guards hid away.
Laurel and the others gathered. The three assassins were dressed head-to-toe in black, faces masked. Kevin and Jack also donned dark clothes. They all nodded to each other, signaling readiness. Laurel leapt up, his ring flashing, and a roof tile vanished into his spatial ring.
A silent, gaping hole appeared. Laurel took Kevin and Jack with him, replaced the tile behind them, and sealed the hole. The entire process was ghostly quiet—the only light came from the ring’s activation, and even that was easily shielded. Kevin realized his theory about how the assassins had snuck into the library to read was probably correct.
Laurel led the pair over rooftops, landing silently on the next building. “Wait here, you two. We’re off!”
With that, the three assassins disappeared into the night, their direction apparently toward the city gates.
“Why are we out here in the middle of the night?” Jack asked, puzzled.
“For safety,” Kevin replied, lying on his back under the stars.
“I feel like the mercenaries here treat us well—they’re probably our own men, right?” Jack asked.
Kevin sighed. “This is an age of chaos. Little Spoon drew the entire tavern’s attention today. Who knows how many factions were watching. Maybe they wouldn’t dare act by day, uncertain of our strength—but at night, it’s another story.”
“If the three of them leave for their mission, and someone comes looking for her, we’d be sitting ducks if we stayed.”
Jack nodded, but asked, “What if no one comes?”
“Better safe than sorry,” Kevin replied. “If no one shows up, we’ll just sleep here. The weather’s nice—no rain tonight, and the breeze is pleasant.”
Overhead, the parrot fluttered down. “I’m hungry! I want food!”
Jack patted his pockets and shook his head regretfully. “I’m out.”
Kevin was curious. “Is the parrot’s diet special?”
“These parrots eat a specially prepared mix,” Jack explained. “Otherwise, you couldn’t train them to have such intelligence.”
“So what now?” Kevin asked.
“We’ll make do for tonight,” Jack told the parrot. “Tomorrow I’ll get you some rice.”
The parrot shook its head. “Business trips are so tough—no food at all.”
As they spoke, several shadowy figures crept around the corner, skulking around Kevin’s old lodging. The three exchanged glances. So, they’d come after all.
The group tossed a rope, hooked a jutting beam, and climbed up to the second floor one by one. They kicked open a window with a crash, but no one responded inside. The rest pretended not to notice.
The intruders jumped inside and made straight for the bed. Rubbing their hands together, they roughly groped the bed through the blanket, and the room burst into laughter. But when the blanket was thrown back—a male corpse lay underneath.
“Aaah!” they screamed. Anyone expecting a beauty and finding a corpse would surely be horrified. But these men were used to chaos. After the shock wore off, they recovered quickly.
“Someone under the bed!” someone shouted. Even Kevin could hear it, but the others in the building ignored the commotion.
They yanked out another body from under the bed—another male corpse. This time everyone shuddered.
“What’s going on?” they whispered, baffled. They ran to other rooms, threw back the blankets—more bodies, all men. Panic spread. Did the targets have some necromantic magic? Had the people seen by day turned into zombies at night?
While this group was disoriented, a second group arrived. Seeing the rope, they sensed trouble but rushed in anyway. On the beds—more corpses, more fright.
Soon the two groups confronted each other in the hallway.
“Is this your doing?” one side demanded.
“You ask me? Who are these bodies?” Neither side would back down. In a place where only the dangerous lurked at night, tempers flared quickly and the fighting began.
Kevin and Jack sat quietly on the neighboring rooftop, watching as the two sides clashed, smashing doors and walls as their battle energy tore through the building.
The parrot shook its head, unable to understand. “Why are they fighting?”
“For…mating rights, I suppose,” Kevin considered, searching for a plausible answer.
“It’s not mating season, is it?” the parrot retorted.
“For humans, it’s always mating season,” Kevin said helplessly.
A third faction arrived—more numerous than the last. Seeing the brawl, they joined in without hesitation. The three-way melee grew ever more chaotic.
Jack shook his head. “This is overkill. Little Spoon’s not even there—they shouldn’t have any reason to fight. There must be deeper motives, like turf wars.”
“Maybe,” Kevin replied. “Sometimes what looks stupid on the surface hides complicated motives. Like our own country’s investigation of mercenary groups—many see it as pointless, but in fact, the assassins are already here. The large-scale investigation is just a smokescreen.”
Kevin paused, struck by his own words. If the domestic investigation was just for show, did that mean the foreign one was real?
Laurel had never questioned Kevin about the incident itself, nor had he involved Kevin and Jack in the investigation or even discussed it with them. Instead, he’d just dragged in six random corpses for Kevin to check.
Was this really the attitude for investigating the Poisonous Forest incident? Kevin began to doubt. And if not, what were they really doing? Simply going through the motions? That didn’t fit—Little Spoon clearly had a sense of justice, and they worked hard every night.
Perhaps, then, the truth of the Poisonous Forest no longer mattered! One thing may have been confirmed: Labociel was indeed behind it, though there might be no direct evidence. But did a great power need proof?
No! If I’m sure you did it, that’s enough. If someone’s sucker-punched, he doesn’t need to know which hand struck—he just punches back, anywhere.
The assassins’ current strategy must be to find some official of similar rank, kill him, and pin all the Poisonous Forest crimes on him, announcing to the world that the investigation is complete, with Kevin and Jack (and the parrot) as witnesses, and so forth. Retaliation, and a chance to polish the great power’s image.
Only today did Kevin realize he was probably just a formality. He didn’t like this approach, but for nations in rivalry, it was an effective solution.
The three-way battle had barely begun when a fourth group arrived, charging in and adding to the chaos. Many inside fled. This place had been the local mercenaries’ lodging for the visitors, and many of the mercenaries were friendly to the Lawlor kingdom—supposedly a safe place. But in the darkness, everyone looked out for themselves.
Kevin and Jack watched coldly, as if at a farce.
Suddenly, a great explosion rang out in the distance! Both men turned to see a tower of red flame at the city gate, and even from this distance, the wind carried the scent of burning.
That was where Laurel and the others had gone for their assassination. The two men grew worried.
Moments later, two figures raced toward them, leaping rooftops at incredible speed. Clearly, assassins. Kevin and Jack hurried to meet them. Little Spoon came bounding up, carrying Laurel on her back, with Little Nine close behind. All three were filthy, their hair singed and faces ashen.
“What happened?” Jack blurted. Little Spoon stumbled and fell to her knees. Laurel slipped from her back, blood flowing from numerous wounds—a shocking sight.
“It was an ambush,” Little Nine answered.
“We need to run, now,” Kevin said, wanting to help Little Spoon up, but knowing he was too weak to get them far. His anxiety offered no solution.
Suddenly, torches blazed to life all around, and the clatter of armor sounded as countless soldiers poured from the surrounding buildings, encircling Kevin’s group. Archers aimed their bows at the rooftop.
“You are surrounded! Lay down your weapons and surrender!” someone shouted below.
The combatants next door, seeing the military might, didn’t dare linger and quietly slipped away. Though the regular army dared not openly provoke the mercenary groups, neither side wanted to escalate things. In times of friction, each side gave way when the other went all out.
On the rooftop, Kevin looked down at the massed soldiers, shocked. This wasn’t a rapid deployment after the fact, but an ambush long prepared. As for the fire at the gate—such a blaze was likely a high-level spell. If cast by one person, only an eighth-tier archmage could do it; if by several, they must have used a defensive magic array built into the city walls, something usually requiring special approval.
To use such an array so decisively against three assassins, and to anticipate their escape route, lying in wait at their lodgings—such a flawless, linked strategy. Was all this really devised by Labociel’s local commanders?
“You are surrounded! Lay down your weapons and surrender!” the shout came again.
“Let’s fight them!” Little Spoon gritted her teeth and readied her silver spear.
“Wait!” Kevin stopped her. “Surrender first.”
“Why should we surrender?” Little Spoon howled.
“It would be too hard to explain with your intelligence,” Kevin replied coldly.