Our Family Has Fallen

While everyone else watched, he foolishly charged forward. The gang member, no longer holding back, struck out directly, and the two became entangled.

The minor leader, after all, was seasoned in street brawls. Upon seeing the man’s clumsy movements, he immediately realized this fellow was just an ordinary person.

The thought that he had just been bluffed made rage surge within him.

”What the hell are you looking at? Get him!” the minor leader shouted, a cruel expression finally appearing on his face.

The man was no longer in his prime, and he had already endured a severe beating.

Even if he had the will to fight, he was powerless against the group assault. The minor leader even forbade the use of knives; he wanted to teach this fellow a lesson slowly.

By the time the man was beaten to the ground and unable to move, only the newbie on the Gang’s side had taken a few punches. His face was swollen, but he had earned the minor leader’s praise.

”You did well.”

”It’s all thanks to you, Boss.” It was only when he grinned that he realized he had also lost a tooth, but he didn’t mind at all; he felt as if a bright future was beckoning to him.

However, the minor leader couldn’t care less about the newbie. Instead, he focused his attention on the man who couldn’t even stand, his expression turning vicious as he picked up a whip from the ground and lashed out.

”Still trying to put on an act? Today, I’m sending your whole family to their deaths!”

As he spoke, he lashed out with the whip again. But this time, when it struck the man, there was no cry of pain. Instead, a laugh arose, and the words he uttered were chilling.

”HAHAHA! I’m just standing here, and yet so many of you don’t dare to move? A bunch of cowards, putting on airs!”

Having cast aside life and death, everything lost meaning to him. His twisted laughter silenced the onlookers and instilled an inexplicable panic in the minor leader, as if he had been seen through.

”Shut up!” The minor leader desperately tried to conceal his panic, raising his hand and lashing out a few more times with the whip, only to be met with increasingly manic laughter.

This sound seemed to possess a strange, eerie power that sent a chill down one’s spine; an inexplicable pressure weighed down on everyone’s heart.

Madness—the most exalted form of wisdom. Or so someone had once said.

But he, the one who had reported them, didn’t think so. That laughter seemed to tear away his pretense, pointing and jeering at his ugly, twisted soul.

This plunged him into fury. He even snatched a knife from a nearby Gang member, intending to kill the beaten man directly.

Everyone was captivated by this scene, completely unaware that something unexpected was unfolding.

”Get out of the way!”

A sudden shout erupted from outside, shattering the strange atmosphere of the scene.

The crowd of onlookers was rudely pushed aside as several figures made their way in from outside. They were dressed in short, practical attire, each with a red headband—typical sailor’s garb.

However, seeing each of them carrying a sailor’s cutlass and with a musket tucked into their waist, it was clear they were no ordinary sailors; they looked more like Pirates.

The appearance of these men made the minor leader pause. Recognizing these well-fed individuals as people not to be trifled with, he knew they spelled trouble.

Before the minor leader could react further, the newcomers seemed to have confirmed something. Their leader fixed his gaze on him.

”I...”

Sensing danger, the minor leader began to speak, but he saw the newcomer’s leader suddenly draw his blade. The next second, a head, its face a mask of terror and disbelief, soared into the air.

Simultaneously, the other newcomers said nothing, charging forward, their cutlasses rising and falling with deadly efficiency.

How could those young toughs, wielding mere scraps of iron, possibly stand a chance?

In just a few moments, they were all cut down. Undisguised terror was etched on the faces of the corpses littering the ground.

”Who else here is with the Mire Gang?” their leader asked, holding his blood-dripping cutlass as he scanned the crowd. The onlookers still hadn’t recovered from the slaughter they had just witnessed—it had all happened too fast!

When they did come to their senses, they were even more afraid to move, fearing they’d be killed as accomplices.

It was only after this question that a thought sparked in their minds. Some people immediately pointed straight at the snitch.

”Him!”

”That’s right, it’s him!” Others chimed in with similar accusations.

Following their denunciations, the snitch—who had narrowly escaped the initial slaughter by running towards the fallen man—was found.

The sailor leader kicked the severed head, sending it rolling to the snitch’s feet.

”AH!”

The more arrogant he had been moments ago, the more terrified he was now.

And those onlookers, always eager to kick a man when he’s down, immediately began to recount his misdeeds.

These acts, which might have seemed like a source of ”honor” to him moments before, now became the very blade hastening his demise.

”You’re a local. You’ve lived here for so many years and suffered oppression by the Mire Gang. Yet now, you commit such treacherous, ungrateful, cruel, and unjust acts?” The sailor leader, cutlass in hand, advanced on the snitch as he spoke, his face contorted with anger. He roared, ”You deserve to die!”

The snitch was so panicked he dropped the knife he was holding, stumbled to the ground, and tried to crawl away, muttering incoherent pleas.

”It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it! They forced me...”

But no one listened to his excuses. The cutlass had already swept past, forever preserving his ugly, contorted expression.

No one had expected retribution to come so swiftly. The crowd’s earlier resentment found its release, and some even cheered.

”Good riddance!”

That’s how these people were—as long as there was a spectacle, they were entertained, no matter what it involved.

Yet this scene left Vick somewhat speechless.

Indeed, the newcomer was Vick. His appearance here wasn’t to save anyone; it was pure coincidence.

He and Walter had just been discussing the best way to make their entry, and this area by the Ovando Dock seemed most suitable.

The reasoning was that this slum area was teeming with people and rife with chaos. More importantly, it was far from the traditional power centers of the city, providing ample room for them to establish themselves and grow.

Moreover, gangs ran rampant here, with frequent and violent clashes between them.

Especially recently, with the addition of stranded refugees and unemployed workers, new gangs emerged daily, while old ones were swallowed up.

As for monopolizing the fishing industry, that had existed before as well, primarily manifesting as the need to pay protection money. It hadn’t been as blatant then; though difficult, there was still some room for survival.

But when society fell into turmoil and the municipal authorities’ power waned, these Gangs became even more brazen in their encroachments.

Alternatively, it could be said the authorities intentionally turned a blind eye, as this was actually part of the overall food monopoly.

Among these various large and small gangs, Vick and Walter had considered their options and chosen the Mire Gang—a relatively new group with no significant backing.

In this era, there were no flashy, movie-like spy infiltration operations; such methods were ill-suited to places like this.

What Vick needed was simply to carve out a territory and then develop it. That was their entire objective, which led to today’s events.

However, Vick, having just killed the Mire Gang’s minor leader, didn’t simply leave. Instead, he turned his gaze to the man still on the ground.

Having learned what had transpired from the onlookers, Vick gestured. Some people came forward to help lower the two elderly individuals, but they shook their heads, the meaning all too clear.

They had been starved for a long time, their bodies were soaked, and they had been hung up and brutally beaten. Even a young person couldn’t have endured such treatment, let alone two people in their fifties or sixties.

The man on the ground also realized what this meant. He threw himself upon the two bodies, letting out a pain-filled wail.

This scene touched even those who were just there for the spectacle.

”Damn it! I just got back from sea!” Vick’s current persona was that of a local who had grown up near Ovando Dock, worked on ships, and had only just returned today. The coarse language he used fit this persona and was also phrased in a way the crowd could easily understand. ”How can our people be bullied like this?”

”Now that I’m back, I won’t stand for these scumbags! If you’ve still got any guts, if you’re still men, then grab your weapons and follow me! Let’s take back what’s ours!”