Before long, Lucian arrived at a cluster of rundown houses.
He stopped in front of the smallest and most dilapidated one at the very end of the alley.
Knock.
Knock.
He rapped lightly on the door.
“Who’s there?”
A low, wary male voice came from inside.
“A customer.”
Lucian replied calmly.
After more than ten seconds…
The door cracked open.
A pair of sharp, triangular eyes peered out at Lucian and Mordo.
The man froze for a moment before opening the door wider.
A stale, moldy odor immediately drifted out.
Lucian’s expression didn’t change.
Mordo merely frowned slightly.
“Are you with the White Lotus?”
The man scrutinized Lucian’s unusual white-and-red robes.
Elegant shoulder guards extended across his chest, and ornate bracers covered both forearms.
They looked exquisitely crafted…
Yet somehow…
The man could almost smell the blood that clung to them.
How many people has this man killed…?
“No.”
“I’m simply a customer.”
Lucian smiled faintly.
The man frowned again.
“Then you’re a Westerner?”
“What do you want with the merchandise?”
“I’m Chinese.”
“I just want to buy a few…”
“…to raise myself.”
Lucian answered evenly.
After hearing that…
The man stepped aside and walked deeper into the house.
Lucian followed.
Mordo entered last, quietly closing the door behind him.
Suddenly…
The man spun around.
A small pistol appeared in his hand.
Its barrel pointed directly at Lucian’s forehead.
“Take off your hood.”
he ordered coldly.
Mordo’s expression instantly changed.
Golden magical rings materialized around both of his hands.
“Y-You…”
“You’re demons!”
“You—”
Before he could finish—
Thud.
The man coughed up a mouthful of blood.
His eyes slowly lowered toward his chest.
A hand rested there.
Beneath it…
A slender Hidden Blade had pierced straight through his heart.
Click.
The blade retracted.
The man’s body collapsed lifelessly to the floor.
Lucian calmly looked at the blood staining his glove.
He picked up a nearby cloth.
Carefully wiped the blood away.
Then gently covered the dead man’s face.
“May death bring you peace.”
“Rest well.”
Only then did he continue walking deeper inside.
Behind him…
Mordo silently dismissed his magic before following.
At the end of the room…
Lucian stopped.
Without turning around, he asked,
“Do you know why I killed him?”
Mordo answered immediately.
“Because…”
“He threatened you.”
Lucian slowly shook his head.
Then quietly said,
“My blade is my eye.”
“It exists…”
“…to cut through the darkness.”
The next instant—
He stomped heavily onto the stone floor.
BOOM!
CRACK!
The floor shattered into countless fragments.
Below…
Terrified screams echoed upward.
Mordo instinctively looked down.
Beneath the house…
Was an enormous underground cellar.
The building itself had been constructed directly above it.
Countless frightened eyes stared upward.
Fear.
Despair.
And buried deep beneath both…
The faintest trace of hope.
The children huddled together, trembling uncontrollably.
They all knew what usually happened next.
And they also knew…
There was nothing they could do to resist.
Among them…
A little girl wearing a floral dress stood clutching another child.
The dried blood on her forehead had already formed a scab.
If Aunt Thirteen had been here…
She would have immediately recognized her.
It was the very same little girl who had thrown chicken blood at her the day before.
Mordo stared at the underground prison in utter disbelief.
“These…”
“These children…”
“…are the ‘merchandise’ you mentioned?”
Lucian nodded silently.
His face remained calm.
But deep within his eyes…
Burned grief.
And fury.
During the thousand years he had spent in the Assassin’s Creed world…
He had witnessed tragedies far worse than this.
Yet somehow…
None had filled him with such overwhelming rage.
At this moment…
All he wanted…
Was to kill.
His icy voice echoed through the cellar.
“Get them out.”
“Take care of every one of them.”
“When that’s done…”
“Bring them to my palace.”
Mordo shivered involuntarily.
“Y-Yes…”
“Mr.
Lucian.”
Lucian nodded.
“When you’re finished…”
“Come find me.”
Without another word…
He turned and walked away.
Watching his departing figure…
Mordo suddenly understood.
Tonight…
Many people were going to die.
The night passed without incident.
The following morning…
Aunt Thirteen, Huang Feihong, and Leung Foon left the inn together.
As they walked through the streets…
Two passing townsmen were chatting nearby.
“Have you heard?”
“All those pork sellers disappeared last night.”
“And every single little piglet vanished too.”
“Really?”
“They were White Lotus people!”
“Who’d dare provoke them?”
“No idea.”
“But good riddance.”
“They claim to fight for ordinary people…”
“But some of the things they’ve done are simply unforgivable.”
“Shh!”
“Keep your voice down!”
“The city’s crawling with White Lotus followers.”
“If they hear you, you’re finished.”
Their conversation caught the trio’s attention.
Aunt Thirteen and Huang Feihong frowned.
Leung Foon looked completely confused.
“Pork sellers?”
“Piglets disappeared?”
“What does selling pork have to do with being heartless?”
he scratched his head.
“Master…”
“What are they talking about?”
Huang Feihong thought for a moment.
“I imagine…”
“Someone must have stolen all of the White Lotus Society’s pigs.”
Leung Foon’s eyes lit up.
“Oh!”
“Then whoever did it deserves praise!”
A soft chuckle sounded beside them.
“Heh…”
“Those aren’t the kind of piglets they’re talking about.”
“You’ve misunderstood.”
The three turned.
A man dressed in a black robe stood nearby.
A pocket watch rested casually in his hand.
He smiled faintly as he walked closer.
“Oh?”
“What do you mean?”
Huang Feihong asked.
The man lowered his voice.
“‘Piglets’…”
“…means children.”
“And the ‘pig farmers’…”
“…are human traffickers.”
With those final words…
He turned…
And quietly disappeared into the crowd.