My Gang of Swordsmen

Chapter 275: Chapter 118: Calm Before the Storm

At night in the Edo Era, as long as you walked down streets where the nightingales gathered, you would see a multitude of extravagantly dressed nightingales standing by the roadside, making seductive gestures towards every passing man. The bolder ones would directly grab hold of the men and name the price for a night’s pleasure with them.

The government always adopted a see-no-evil, hear-no-evil stance towards these nightingales.

Currently, the street that Aoto and his group were patrolling was full of such nightingales.

Seeing that Aoto and his group were dressed like officials, the nightingales tactfully stepped aside without approaching to disturb them.

But there were a few, perhaps bold or looking for some fun, or maybe not recognizing the official attire—ignorance is fearless—that proactively approached Aoto and his group, teasing them.

For example, right now: a nightingale dressed in a bright red yukata, around 30 years old with a pretty face, ran over to Aoto and his group with a coquettish laugh. She grabbed her yukata’s collar with her right hand and pulled it aside to reveal a deep line, while her left hand lifted the hem of her yukata, exposing her fleshy thigh—she wasn’t wearing an underwear wrap.

The underwear wrap could be understood as this era’s women’s underwear, a garment like an apron that reached down to the calves.

Nagakura kept a tense face, trying his best to control his gaze, but his eyes involuntarily drifted towards the ”big scar” on that nightingale’s chest.

Harada wasn’t as reserved as Nagakura. He frankly showed a delighted smile as he sized up the nightingale, who exhibited saucy behavior and attire, with his gaze lingering particularly long on her fleshy thighs.

As this nightingale approached them, Saito instinctively raised his right hand, holding the sword on his right waist, and stared vigilantly at the nightingale.

After confirming that the woman posed no threat, he lowered his hand and never looked at her again.

As for Fujimura... when the nightingale lifted the yukata’s collar, revealing those deep lines, he immediately lowered his head in embarrassment, his face flushed, without casting her another glance.

Her actions of lifting the yukata’s collar and hem, directly exposing a deep cleavage and thigh, might be considered quite provocative and stimulating to people of this era, but to Aoto, whose soul came from the 21st century, he just thought, ”It’s just average.”

In the 21st century, any female lingerie store’s advertising model’s appearance and poses were far more provocative and daring than this nightingale’s.

Aoto slightly hastened his pace to shake off the nightingale who came forward to tease them.

”Haah...!” Reluctantly withdrawing his gaze, Harada let out a big yawn, then asked Aoto in a tone tinged with obvious fatigue, ”Mr. Tachibana... how long do we have to keep patrolling?”

”Until we find the Anti-foreigner Group or until Lord Governor notifies us that the operation is over.” Aoto replied calmly.

Nearly two hours had passed since the operation officially started.

During these two hours, Aoto and the others kept patrolling their designated defense zone, observing for any suspicious movements.

Two hours had passed, and their area of responsibility was as calm as a mirror—none of the Anti-foreigner Group or any suspicious figures in sight.

When the operation first began, Nagakura and Harada were full of anticipation and eager to try.

But after two hours of tedious patrolling, as the novelty gradually wore off, Nagakura’s face transitioned from anticipation to fatigue.

”We still have to keep patrolling...” Harada said, pulling at his lips, ”I’m starting to feel sleepy.”

After speaking, Harada conveniently let out another big yawn.

”Mr. Tachibana, can we chat for a bit? Talking might keep us from feeling sleepy.”

”No.” Aoto flatly refused Harada’s request for a chat, ”Talking would distract us, preventing us from focusing on the task. If you’re really sleepy, I remember there’s a stream nearby where you can wash your face.”

”Alright... never mind about the chatting then...” Harada sighed deeply, then shut his mouth tightly, not saying another word.

In the Edo Era, still in a pre-modern society, there wasn’t much vibrant nightlife for people to enjoy.

Even in Edo, the largest city in the country, areas would become deathly quiet once night fell, with Yoshiwara, the only legal red-light district, being the exception.

This entirely silent atmosphere was indeed quite soporific; even Aoto himself was starting to lose focus.

Leading his subordinates through another quiet street, Aoto suddenly spotted specks of firelight ahead—a certain expansive residence not far away was still emitting light at this hour.

This was the only place on the entire street where the light was shining, making the residence’s flickering light stand out like a few lonely fireflies drifting on a summer night.

Aoto knew this residence; it was the renowned Foreign Language Research Institute.

For those who admired Western Studies or aimed to revitalize the country using advanced Western Studies, the Foreign Language Research Institute was like a Holy Land.

Therefore, the Institute was never short of people who were passionate and motivated to learn Western Studies.

A large group voluntarily stayed at the Institute working overtime, burning the midnight oil translating foreign books or advancing their knowledge of Western Studies—a common sight within the Institute.