EBE Chapter 29 Night Owl
Chapter 29 Night Owl
At the edge of the shipwreck area, at the angle between two overturned precast concrete slabs.
One of Bolton's spies planted on the outskirts buried his face in the mud, desperately covering his mouth with his hands, biting his lip until it bled, but dared not make a sound.
He was shaking violently as if he were electrified.
In the past half hour, he witnessed firsthand what true hell is like.
That was the blood mist that filled the sky when dozens of tons of scrap iron crashed down, the greed of those killers who cursed and tore at each other over a piece of blood-stained scrap iron.
What completely shattered his psychological defenses was the man dressed in black and carrying a short dagger.
Without even blinking, the demon poured out a few drops of an unknown potion, which melted the face of Captain Barrow's personal guard into a pool of foul-smelling blood and bone!
Just then, the leader in the trench coat on the platform issued some kind of order.
The next second, all the outsiders on the open ground of the ruins burst into a roar like wild beasts being released from their cages.
There are phrases like "Long live the liver emperor!" or "I burned my liver!" and other similar expressions, such as "The era of massive infrastructure construction has arrived."
This fanatical, almost manic roar, to the scout's ears, was not at all about accepting a mission.
Those were clearly a group of bloodthirsty ghouls, initiating some kind of bloody pre-battle sacrificial ritual!
The scouts could no longer hold out.
His rationality snapped completely, and he scrambled out of the ruins, fleeing desperately towards the upper city area.
On the high platform, Lynn caught a faint glimpse of movement in the darkness in the distance.
George growled and lowered his front paws in preparation for pursuit, but Lynn stopped him by raising his hand.
He watched the fleeing figure, but there was no murderous intent in his eyes.
Killing a scout is pointless.
He needed a terrified messenger to deliver that fear to Bolton's face, unfiltered and perhaps even exaggerated.
...............
Inside Bolton's luxurious mansion in the Upper Town.
In the study, which was carpeted with velvet, the charcoal fire burned brightly. Burton, holding a glass of fine wine, paced anxiously in front of the fireplace.
Judging by the time, Barrow's heavily armed law enforcement team should have already brought back that pretty boy who was leading the group.
"Bang!"
The heavy oak door was suddenly flung open.
The scout, covered in mud and blood, stumbled in, his voice filled with undisguised terror.
"My lord... the entire army was wiped out... Captain Barrow and the others didn't even leave behind their bodies!"
Bolton's hand trembled, and the crystal goblet crashed to the floor.
The crimson wine spread slowly like blood along the texture of the velvet carpet.
Bolton grabbed the scout by the collar, her beautiful face contorted in shock: "What did you say? Thirty heavily armed elites couldn't even hold out for an hour?!"
"They're not refugees at all!" the scout cried out in despair, tears streaming down his face. "They're monsters who possess evil alchemy! They're impervious to pain, invulnerable to blades and bullets... and they can turn people into skeletons instantly with their demonic water! They even strip the dead of their underwear and belts; my adjutant is being tortured to the point of wishing he were dead!"
Bolton abruptly shoved the scout away, leaving him limp on the ground.
Her chest heaved violently, and cold sweat had soaked through the back of her silk nightgown.
As a local expert who had dealt with shipwreck areas for many years, the panic lasted only a few seconds before shrewdness and calculation regained control of his mind.
The other side is definitely not some rioting poor people, but a mysterious armed force that came prepared!
At this moment, she had less than half of her armed forces left. Sending them out for a direct attack now would be tantamount to suicide.
But if we report this matter to the Treasure Island Trade Arbitration Committee for assistance...
Bolton shuddered.
If those vampires on the committee knew she couldn't even control her own territory, they would definitely revoke her license without hesitation and discard her as a worthless pawn.
Before making her next decision, she had to find out the details of this group: How many of them were there? Where were their firepower deployed? Where were their weak points in defense?
Bolton took a deep breath, forced himself to calm down, and turned to look at the darkest corner of the study.
"Night owl, come out."
The shadow rippled like water.
A thin man wearing a gray-black tight-fitting leather armor emerged silently from the shadows of the bookshelf.
Faced with the furious and panicked Bolton, Night Owl did not kneel down like his other subordinates, nor did he show any fear.
He simply stopped calmly three steps away from Bolton, his eyes sharp and cold, like an emotionless knife.
"You heard it all," Bolton gritted his teeth. "Barrow is dead. That man had bizarre alchemy and fearless monsters."
Night Owl glanced at the scout still trembling on the carpet, his voice flat: "Barrow is a fool who only knows how to intimidate people with heavy armor and brute force. Armor only makes noise and makes people arrogant, while fear makes cowards exaggerate."
He paused, his tone revealing the absolute confidence of a top assassin.
"Whether it's magic or alchemy, as long as the carotid artery is severed in the correct way, any creature will bleed to death."
Bolton was enraged by his detached indifference: "Stop talking nonsense! I want you to infiltrate the shipwreck area tonight and find their defense maps and armories! If you get the chance, kill that leader named Lynn!"
Night Owl slightly raised his head, his cat-like eyes staring directly at Bolton without flinching.
"My lord, it's clearly stated in our contract. I am a scout and assassin, not a suicide soldier to die for you."
He calmly defined the boundaries: "I can bring you a perfect firepower distribution map; that's my specialty. But if the other side truly possesses a well-organized defense and bizarre alchemy, as you claim, assassinating the leader is a high-risk commission. It will cost extra. And whether or not I take the plunge is my own assessment."
Bolton stared at him intently, his teeth itching with anger.
But she knew very well that the night owl was her sharpest trump card at the moment.
"Fine." Bolton gritted his teeth and tossed a heavy bag of gold coins from the drawer. "The bounty will double if the information is accurate. Go!"
The night owl didn't thank him, but simply took the money bag with one hand and slowly disappeared into the shadows.
…………
Late at night, the acid fog around Pearl Harbor was even thicker than during the day, with visibility less than five meters.
The night owl demonstrated textbook-level professional stealth preparation.
He had long since taken off his fine but reflective leather armor and put on a tattered linen outfit that smelled sour.
He covered his entire body with foul-smelling mud, obscuring his vibrant life force, and even filled his fingernails with filth.
After swallowing a mouthful of alchemical potion that could lower his heart rate to a minimum, Night Owl completely transformed into a venomous snake in the mud.
He moved silently along the muddy ground covered in industrial waste, without making a sound, and using the discarded containers and industrial debris as cover, he quietly made his way to the edge of the player camp.
Everything went smoothly and did not raise any alarms.
Night Owl inspected the poisoned dagger hidden at his waist and took a deep breath of the cold air filled with pungent exhaust fumes.
As a seasoned assassin, he had already mentally rehearsed the scenes he was about to witness countless times: a heavily guarded and terrifying military camp, a bloody alchemical array littered with dismembered limbs, and a fanatical rebel army with cold eyes.
He slowed his breathing to its limit, then cautiously peeked half his head out from behind the abandoned shipping container, his gaze fixed on the open space ahead, where the firelight flickered…