Chapter 80: The Man-Eating Rats

Having already steeled himself to carry out the rescue, Ye Ran only now realized the daunting difficulty of the task. When the Wuying Palace came to detain a student, they didn’t even bother to send any of their top agents—only a Divine Envoy had come to escort the prisoner. That was their sole opponent.

But when had the temple’s envoys ever been weak? How could Ye Ran and Meng Qi possibly hope to contend with such a figure? Especially now, with Meng Qi’s strength greatly diminished after losing a hand—the two of them going up against the envoy was no different from striking a stone with an egg.

"Xin has plenty of friends," Meng Qi said helplessly, "but to make an enemy of the temple is to invite ruin for life. None of them would take that risk. In the end, the only ones who can do this are you and me."

"I don’t have many friends either," Ye Ran replied. "So it’s just the two of us."

He truly had few friends, and those few either couldn’t be relied upon or he was unwilling to drag them down with him. This was something he would have to shoulder alone.

"We stand no chance in a head-on fight; subterfuge is our only hope. Right now, they are in the light while we are in the shadows—our only advantage. I need to make some preparations. I’ll find you tomorrow. Do you have any money?"

"Uh… yes, how much do you need?"

"Ten gold coins. I need to find someone."

…

The money was soon in hand. With it, Ye Ran made his way straight to the slums. Passing by the muddy, crumbling Brick-and-Tile Lane, he caught sight of Freya pressing her face to a window, fogging up the glass with her breath. Amused, he continued into the heart of the slums.

The stone path was strewn with refuse, flanked by dilapidated buildings. The place was unchanged from when he’d left it—desolate, choked with filth and stifling air, lifeless in every sense.

After passing two small buildings, Ye Ran turned into an alley draped with patched laundry. The alley ended abruptly, revealing a different world.

Less than a hundred paces beyond the alley stood a flat-roofed house, its red bricks and tiles glowing dully, the eaves straight and unadorned.

A large round table was set before the door, around which several burly men played cards, cigarettes dangling from their lips. Two scrawny youths crouched nearby, gathering the discarded butts the card players had tossed aside.

"Brother Ye…"

At the sight of Ye Ran, the two youths quickly withdrew their hands and stood awkwardly to one side.

One was short and stout as a winter melon; the other thin as a bamboo pole, as if a gust of wind might knock him flat.

Like Ye Ran, both were orphans, though their lot was even harder—they’d grown up without so much as proper names. Having long hung around the bodyguards of the Rat King’s gang, they were often bossed about, earning them the nicknames Melon and Twig. The two had become petty thieves by habit; not long ago, they’d even been seen loitering around Ye Ran’s own building. But Ye Ran had always looked out for them, so they were grateful to him.

A burly man with yellowed teeth, a pipe clamped between his lips, and shuffling about in cotton slippers, stood up and smacked Melon hard on the head. Melon grimaced, baring those stained teeth, and the man sneered, "Brother Ye? You make it to Brick-and-Tile Lane and suddenly everyone’s your brother? Open your eyes, you mutt—Big Mao here’s your real boss!"

Melon reeled from the blow, rubbing his head and nodding meekly.

Ye Ran’s brow furrowed in distaste. This yellow-toothed man was an "old acquaintance"—Big Mao, chief lackey of the Rat King’s gang. Once, fearing Ye Ran would steal his job, he’d picked a fight with him, only to be thoroughly thrashed and left gnashing his teeth on the ground. The grudge had lingered ever since.

Big Mao sported a few streaks of dyed yellow hair. Turning to Ye Ran, he laughed boisterously, "Little Ye, what a rare guest! Brothers, let me introduce him—this is the one I always talk about, the toughest guy in the slums. Back in the day, even when the Rat King himself wanted him as a bodyguard, he scoffed—said he’d move with his wife to Orchid Pavilion Street. Such ambition! Well, two years have passed. Any guesses where he’s ended up?"

"Brick-and-Tile Lane, hahahaha…"

Without waiting for an answer, he roared with laughter, the sound rattling the roof tiles, utterly satisfied with himself. The other card players joined in the mirth.

"Hmph, looking for a beating?" Ye Ran didn’t bother with pleasantries. He cracked his knuckles and stepped forward.

Big Mao’s face hardened. He pressed his fist to his cheek, feigning viciousness. "Come on then, hit me if you dare!"

The other burly men tossed aside their cards and gathered behind Big Mao, ready for a brawl.

"Big Mao, let him in."

Just as the tension reached its peak, a deep voice called from inside. Big Mao shot Ye Ran a menacing glare before grudgingly stepping aside.

"Idiot," Ye Ran muttered, sending Big Mao into a fit of rage.

Ignoring the murderous look, Ye Ran pushed open the door and stepped into the house.

He closed the door behind him and surveyed the room. From the outside, it looked like just another dingy house, but inside was a world apart. Though cluttered, the four-hundred-square-foot space was lined with all manner of astonishing things—devices for measuring energy and origin, tools for lockpicking and burglary, poisons for every shady undertaking. On the far wall hung the taxidermied carcass of a giant troll from the Green Demon Woods.

Yes, the owner had made a trophy of a Green Demon Forest troll and mounted it on the wall.

The lighting was dim. Behind the bar to the left sat a pale man with blue hair and blue eyes. In the muted glow, his gaze seemed dull, yet piercingly perceptive, as if he could see clear through a person’s soul.

"Ye, you’re not looking too well," the man remarked, clicking his tongue. "Still wearing those cheap clothes from the street market. Look at you—what a mess you’ve made of yourself."

He held a cigarette between slender fingers, hands as delicate as scallion shoots—more feminine than any woman's. With eyeshadow and makeup on his face, his features blurred the line between man and woman. Blowing two smoke rings, he continued, "If the Iron Rabbit saw you now, she’d be heartbroken."

This was Victor the Rat.

King of the slums.

Most who lived here were wretched souls with nowhere else to go, ground down by hardship. Only the Rat King’s gang seemed to thrive, relishing life in these mean streets.

The Rat King’s gang operated mainly in the slums, the food market, and around the various academies, dealing in lockpicks, traps, narcotics, aphrodisiacs, and other illicit wares. Their clientele comprised all manner of lowlifes—thieves, robbers, criminals of every stripe. Even in the slums, they found ways to squeeze a profit, reigning supreme as the undisputed rulers.

"How is she?" At the mention of the Iron Rabbit, Ye Ran’s brow lifted ever so slightly, a domineering figure flitting through his mind.

Victor shrugged. "She looks to be doing far better than you, at least."

"My friend, what will you have to drink? We have cocktails, green wine, brandy…"

"You know I don’t drink—can’t afford it anyway," Ye Ran replied. "Victor, I’m here because I need your help making some potions."