Cold sweat dripped from the tip of Lorenzo’s nose.

Even Shurz couldn’t help but mutter a quiet curse under his breath.

From the shadows on the rooftop, alongside that dwarf-like figure, more than a dozen slender silhouettes appeared.

Each wore black. Their presence was barely perceptible—less in number than the Red Flame elites behind Lorenzo.

But the moment they showed up, everyone in the alley—whether they were blade-licking thugs or death-defying elites—reflexively tensed like beasts caught in a hunter’s trap.

Looking up, they saw bowstrings drawn taut by mechanical triggers, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. The sharp arrowheads, possibly poisoned, gleamed with cold, deathly light beneath the pale moon.

Fifteen military-grade magic repeater crossbows. Brand new, by the looks of it. Not many in number, but from that elevated position, more than enough to turn everyone in the alley into pincushions within thirty seconds.

"Rat Society? Sam Jed?"

Lorenzo glared at the dwarf-like figure, shaking with fury. "You lot want in on this too?"

The Rat Society—unlike major gangs like Red Flame or thug groups like the Hyenas—wasn’t a household name among ordinary folks in the lower city.

But every single faction down here feared them.

Because they were the black gloves of the noble lords. The ones who handled the dirty work their masters /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ didn’t want to touch.

Normally, they wouldn’t get involved in a mess like this.

And those magic crossbows...

Lorenzo glanced subtly at his trusted aide. The man examined the serial numbers and bloodstains on the crossbows, his eyes turning dark. He gave a silent nod.

Damn it!

"Gaa-gaa, I didn’t want to get involved, honestly. But something like Ancient Dragon’s Lifeblood? For rats like us who can only nibble on the bread crumbs from the lords’ tables... it’s just too tempting."

Sam Jed, barely four feet tall, leaned half of his ugly face out from the shadows and grinned.

"It’s the middle of the night—I’d rather not get bloody, either. Mr. Lorenzo, how about you sell me five drops too, for twenty-five million?"

"In your dreams!"

Lorenzo nearly burst a blood vessel from the rage.

You want to buy five drops for twenty-five million.

And in the end I’ve got nothing left—and I’m five million in the hole?!

What kind of super-ultra-mega sucker would that make me?! I’d be a goddamn urban legend in Beirland!

"Is that so? What a pity."

Sam smacked his lips, then turned toward Shurz.

"Then, Mr. Shurz—how about we join forces? We’ll split the Lifeblood fifty-fifty."

"Hmm..."

Shurz’s eyes narrowed. He looked tempted.

If they could just take it... why bother paying?

Lorenzo was clearly at a disadvantage now. If he and the Rat Society teamed up, success would be almost guaranteed...

"Shurz. You seriously trust these sneaky rats? Not worried they’ll stab you in the back afterward and leave you with nothing?"

Lorenzo sneered.

He didn’t believe for a second that these mutually scheming bastards could actually cooperate. Like his aide had said earlier—less likely than Miss Sers turning over a new leaf.

Sure enough, a glint of frost flickered in Shurz’s eyes as he looked toward Sam.

"Mr. Sam, if we’re talking partnership, surely you should show some sincerity."

"Sincerity? Haven’t I shown enough already?"

Sam gently stroked the crossbow in his hands, as if caressing a lover’s skin.

"I didn’t turn you into a porcupine the moment I arrived—isn’t that the greatest sincerity I could offer?"

"You...!"

Shurz clenched his cane. Veins bulged along the back of his hand. His aged face burned with killing intent.

These damned rats—up to no good, just like he thought!

"Sam, you really think you’ve got us by the throat?"

Lorenzo’s voice dropped coldly.

"Gaa-gaa, isn’t it obvious?"

Sam cast a mocking glance Lorenzo’s way, shaking the weapon in his hand.

"Or do you think you can escape my darling here?"

But Lorenzo suddenly went still.

All that anger, all that hysteria from before—gone. Like it had never existed.

He reached up and yanked open the front of his shirt, revealing a faint blue glow beneath.

He sneered.

"Still so confident after seeing this?"

"That’s—"

Sam’s pupils shrank. He gasped.

"Magitek Armor?!"

Beneath Lorenzo’s clothes, pressed close to his skin, was a soft layer of armor. Blue light—magic circuits—danced across its surface. Though flexible, the armor radiated the same vicious aura as a sharpened blade.

This was Lorenzo’s final trump card. The reason he hadn’t sprinted despite the urgency of his mission.

The armor clung tightly to his body and was heavy as hell—slowing his movements.

But once activated, it would provide an enormous burst of power in a short time.

More importantly, it offered significant defense against those magic repeater crossbows!

"Shit, where the hell did you get that?!"

Sam’s face darkened as the situation turned against him.

Now that Lorenzo had brought out the Magitek Armor, the advantage held by those crossbows was gone.

Sure, in a direct fight he might still win—he had the high ground—but the Hyena Gang was still right there, hungry for blood.

Sam couldn’t help but feel a sliver of relief.

To save his precious enchanted bolts, he hadn’t opened with a sneak attack. Otherwise, this brawl might have spiraled completely out of control.

"Fuck."

"Goddamn it."

"Son of a bitch."

And so, in this increasingly bizarre standoff, the three lower city gang leaders—gathered here by the allure of the Ancient Dragon’s Lifeblood—stared at each other, you lookin’ at me, I lookin’ at you.

Still bristling for battle.

Yet no one dared to make the first move.

Instead, they found themselves locked in a ridiculously awkward equilibrium.

Comical. Pathetic.

...

...

"Three factions? Besides the Red Flame Gang, who else?"

Lower city. On the tower bridge above the Gulaine River.

With the wide-open view from this height, Muen used the binoculars in his hands to observe the standoff unfolding in the alley below.

Trying to recall which two other factions were involved, based solely on the one-line mention in the original novel? Not easy.

But Muen didn’t particularly care.

With his current status, he didn’t need to concern himself with what kind of snakes and demons were crawling out of the shadows.

He just had to confirm their positions—and that the Ancient Dragon’s Lifeblood was still in their possession.

"Alright. Time to get to work."

Muen got ready to leave.

But as he stood up, he noticed a second shadowed figure perched on another tower bridge nearby.

Also clad in a black cloak. Also observing the scene below with binoculars.

Also muttering weird shit to themselves.

"Come on, fight already!"

"I even came ahead of time to blow the whistle—if you don’t fight, how the hell am I supposed to fish in muddy waters?"

"Goddamn it. Not gonna fight?"

"Then don’t blame me for getting nasty!"

The figure angrily slammed their binoculars to the ground and stood up.

It was only then that they seemed to notice Muen standing nearby.

They turned their head and stared at him for a long, long time.

Long enough that Muen’s scalp began to crawl. He was about to assume he’d bumped into another dead-eyed freak with gaydar when the person finally spoke—in a deliberately altered, strangely cordial voice:

"You over there, friend—are you here to play yellow sparrow too?"