We villains all have invincibility written on our faces

This was a bit of a hassle, though. The Soluscher gang had just been linked to a paranormal incident, and Scotland Yard would likely be keeping an eye on the situation. Krieg stroked Hayabusa, his face buried in the shadows, unable to reach even the brightest sunlight. His hesitation vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He had made up his mind.

Let's deal with it before Scotland Yard reacts. No one cares about the dead gangsters anyway, so it's no problem to disguise it as a vendetta. Krieger stood up. He needed to wait for a cloudy day, but sunny weather was unusual in London. In his two lifetimes, he'd never had any enemies, because if he had, he'd usually avenge them on the spot. And no one would ever threaten him in the future. This was the foundation of his peaceful life.

All I can say is that if Kira Yoshikage had been a little more proactive, he wouldn't have fallen into his final situation, and Krieg wouldn't make this kind of mistake. He could have gained lasting peace by working hard for one night, but Krieg never got lazy about this matter. The existence of a gangster itself did not threaten him, but it attracted the attention of Scotland Yard, especially when they discovered that he had a conflict with the three dead people. That was the beginning of his exposure.

Take care of them before Scotland Yard really gets involved!

ps: This is py

Essentially, it is a travel article about Arknights, which provides travel guides for wherever you go, sometimes hardcore and sometimes silly.

The train is about to depart, the doors are welded shut, please sit tight and hold on!

Or2

Fart... Empty-minded py, anyway, you all know who this is, py is not blue-labeled because rich po is a banned word.

Chapter 125 Slums

Until sunset, Krieg continued experimenting with Ashina-ryu techniques, beginning with the Ashina-ryu One-Word Slash, also known as the New Year's Greetings. This vertical slash is common in nearly every school using similar weapons, where the sword is raised overhead and then brought down with full force using gravity. Most ancient schools emphasize lowering the knees to generate power in a vertical slash, aiming to cleave the opponent. Krieg considered the situation, adjusting his stance to his own height and strength.

Swing once every three seconds, swing fifty times and then stop. Rest for ten minutes to relax your muscles and accumulate strength, then continue swinging the knife. At the same time, be careful not to overwork yourself while practicing.

Yes, Genichirō's wild sword was brought back by him. This is really a magical thing. It was obviously just a soul transfer, so why could the things he carried on his body also appear in the new world? It doesn't make sense at all.

If you can't figure it out, don't dwell on it. Krieg adhered to this philosophy and continued to practice without distraction. Although muscles repair and grow during rest, for him, who could improve his physical fitness by traveling through worlds, muscle training itself wasn't important; what mattered was his skill in using force. In any case, his physical fitness was advancing towards inhuman levels, and he could practice for much longer than the average person.

When the sun completely set and the moon was high in the sky, Krieg took out a pure black coat from the closet, made sure that the clothes had no conspicuous features, and then tied the cuffs with a rope. After confirming that the night watchman patrolling outside had passed, he quietly opened the door and moved out of the shadows.

No matter how late it was, the street lights where Krieg lived were always bright. If he used Beach Boy to move, his shadow would be cast on the curtains, so Krieg could only walk close to the wall, which greatly slowed down his speed.

When he arrived in South London, it was almost two o'clock, but the streets were still bustling. As for why, the place where the Soluscher gang was entrenched was the slum, and it was also the area where the illegal immigrant workers worked, and they had just got off work.

The gangs also know that these people are very poor, but these are the only ones they can exploit. Gangs that provide relief to the poor do not exist, at least not in this dimension. From this perspective, enthusiastic organizations are considered good people. At least they can maintain order, while the scum here can only create chaos and bully the weaker people.

The crowd was like sardines. Krieg carefully avoided the people around him. The Faceless Fang's transformed appearance was quite cold and stern, so the crowd also carefully avoided him. Krieg's clothes showed that he did not belong here. People who did not belong here were often like a disaster to the stowaways who were trying to survive here. No one would stand up for them even if they were beaten to death.

"Where are Soluscher's group?" Krieg walked for a long time before he saw a character who looked like an overseer. He lowered the brim of his hat and asked the group of people, handing them a banknote.

The overseers, roaring at the crowd, looked at Krieger. Their smug expressions vanished, and they immediately stood straight, each one smiling obsequiously and rubbing their hands together, trying to appear clean. Each overseer had similar yellowed front teeth, a lingering aftereffect of intense work to stay alert. "Sir, this is not the place for you. These scoundrels will stain your shoes. Let me show you a way out, shall I?"

Krieg stared at the overseer who had spoken first until he couldn't laugh anymore. The overseer looked at the banknotes in his hand and smiled bitterly, "Master, please don't embarrass us. A big shot like you should know how we survive. Please pretend you didn't see us, okay?"

Krieg shook his head slightly. The supervisors here were in cahoots with the gangs, but the gangs' only threat to them was violence, while Krieg represented the majesty of power and money. No matter who lived here for a few days, they would become so humble when facing the "big guys" in their eyes.

"Master, you can't..." The overseer raised his voice, but the tone became very low, and the meaning of pleading was obvious.

"Police, or answers?"

"Answer, answer, my lord, why do you have to embarrass a dog-like person like me?" The supervisor turned his head pitifully, hoping that his companions would give him the strength to speak, but when he looked around, his companions had already left early.

He could only speak. If he was discovered by the gangsters, he would just be beaten up. But if he was caught by the police from Scotland Yard, his death would definitely be very creative. Not to mention his black material, even a random word from the man in front of him could sentence him to death, regardless of whether he had done it or not.

Look at these deerskin gloves without any stitching marks. Even the price of a single pair is enough for him to work for ten years. How dare he disobey Krieg's will? He quickly told him all the information about Soluscher, almost revealing their ancestors.

The intelligence from Scotland Yard couldn't be very detailed, and it turned out that the people here knew it best. After listening to the supervisor's words, Krieg thought about it carefully and he had an idea.

The overseer was still smiling, even though his heart was about to stop in fear. Krieg nodded, and just as the overseer, breathing a sigh of relief, was about to leave, Krieg called him back, "Wait."

The supervisor turned around with a pale face. He looked at Krieg in despair, not knowing how he had offended this noble man. However, this noble man did not say much, but just stuffed the banknotes into his hand.

That was ten pounds straight, enough to keep him employed for a whole year.

The supervisor's expression suddenly changed, greed flashed across his face, but it quickly turned into respect. He waited quietly for Krieg to pass by, and he stuffed the pound into his sleeve the second he took it.

He knew his companions would gather around him like hyenas smelling blood, and he had to come up with a solution.

"My name is Jasper, sir," the overseer called out to Krieg.

He was quite clever, not bad at using the power of a powerful opponent to bully others. Krieg nodded in agreement; he always admired clever people. This action calmed down the supervisors' restless companions. There was no need to offend Krieg for a sum of money. They just had to report to Boss Ulysses first, and everything in Jasper would be theirs!

The supervisors, with their own ulterior motives, surrounded Jasper, complimenting his courage with eyes that showed the look of seeing prey. Jasper held his head high, trying not to show his fear, and loudly declared how much the master admired him.

But Ulysses, the boss in the hyenas' hearts, did not know that he was about to face the biggest test in his short life.

Chapter 126 Hand

Ulysses, the boss of the Soluscher gang, occupied the winery and started selling some cheap alcohol. The sales volume was extremely high but the profit was extremely low. After all, the workers here had never seen the transparent red liquid in the crystal glass in their life. What they could consume was the turbid and crude homemade wine. The hardships of life made the inferior wine more important than food. At least they could choose the types of inferior wine instead of having to drink porridge without solids and wild vegetables without oil.

Alcohol poisoning and its sequelae have always been one of the main causes of death here. Scotland Yard will not manage this place. The British Empire is at its peak in this era. There are more people who want to smuggle here than rats in the sewers. Deadly alcohol is the best way to consume the population after losing its labor force.

Krieg walked out from the shadows, his pure black clothes making his movements seem like the darkness came alive, extending an invitation to the winery.

Not only the guard was frightened, but also the big dog with shiny fur beside him. The big dog barked at Krieger. The guard quickly put away the newspaper in his hand, picked up the baton and trotted to Krieger.

"Hey, you can't come here," the guard at the door hurriedly raised his hand. Before he could finish his words, Krieg had already walked in front of him. The guard obviously wanted to put his hand on Krieg's shoulder, but looking at Krieg's obviously custom-made coat, he timidly withdrew his hand. "Sir," he swallowed, "you can't go in. Um, this place is, uh, not a place for respectable people."

Krieg ignored him, glancing at the barking dog. The Doberman, sensing the threat, whimpered, shut its mouth, hunched its neck, and rested its head obediently on its forearm. Even with its tail cut off, the short piece of meat still swung gently. Krieg nodded approvingly, reaching out and stroking the dog's head roughly. The dog poked its chin out ingratiatingly, its face docile.

The guard looked at it strangely. This male dog ate better than him. Although it was extremely smart, it was inevitably impulsive and irritable. Everyone here had been provoked by it. He didn't expect it to be so honest in front of a stranger.

"Is the Soluscher gang in there?" Krieg smelled alcohol. He deliberately didn't mention the word gang, and this behavior obviously made the guard a little confused.

"you...."

"I'm Chief Sheriff Hodgsong, just visiting here," Krieg imitated the voice of a patrol sergeant, and the certificate in his hand flashed, and he only secretly raised the rank of the scapegoat a little bit.

After Krieg revealed his identity, the guard visibly relaxed a little, even though he couldn't see clearly what Sheriff Hodgsong was holding in his hand.

He simply figured that since the stranger's coat was so expensive, there was no point in personally seeking revenge against a small-time gangster. Since he wasn't a gangster or a detective, his safety factor was practically doubled. Even his tone brightened. "Captain Hodgson, you're a big shot at Scotland Yard, right? I've heard so much about you, so much about you. What brings you to our little place? As you can see, we're all law-abiding people here. Why don't you go meet my boss, Mr. Pope, first? He just made a large donation to Scotland Yard."

"Big Red," Krieg chuckled to himself. The guards here are all shrewd. On the one hand, they're boasting about themselves, and on the other hand, they're bringing out their backers. It turns out that those who can survive here are not simple people. Of course, simple-minded people probably learned to swim at the bottom of the Thames.

"This is the Jack the Ripper case," Krieger said with a serious look and a low voice. "I believe that neither Mr. Pope nor you want to take on unnecessary responsibilities."

"Of course, of course," the guard said in a cold sweat. Everyone knew that under the pressure of the Queen, Scotland Yard had turned into a mad dog because of this case, and even innocent people would be skinned alive by them. He didn't dare to stop the sheriff at this time.

Krieg nodded with satisfaction, watching the guard push open the rusty door. Although it looked defenseless on the outside, the door was actually cast in solid concrete. Although the aging technique was quite advanced and there was even a sharp sound when looking at the door, the thickness of at least two centimeters still showed that the things hidden inside were shameful.

A sharp sound, is this a warning for someone to come in?

The security here didn't seem like something a gang should have, and Krieg was a little confused. Even if it was moonshine, it wouldn't be so tight. Besides, the smell of alcohol was already permeating the air; the people here had made no attempt to hide the fact that they were brewing. The fishhook had already pierced the guard as he spoke. There was indeed a mixed aura of life here, but strangely, the level of it far exceeded what Krieg had perceived, even more chaotic than on a busy street.

Interestingly, Krieg wanted to pull the guard in with him, but the guard waved his hand and did not force him.

The Soluscher gang would be history today anyway. Krieg walked inside, the smell forcing him to squint. The strong smell of alcohol made his eyes uncomfortable, and his body felt faintly excited. Hayabusa didn't follow him in. This little creature was too conspicuous, especially in a light source that wasn't strong enough. The information leakage caused by the reflection was fatal. Krieg had already made plans, and there was no need to expose his abnormality for a small gangster.

The space in here is really big. Krieg raised his head. The height of the roof was at least ten meters. It looked like an exhibition. But there were small rooms everywhere. The large space was cut into small ones. The messy debris in the corridor made this feeling even more severe, making Krieg feel very uncomfortable.

It's a completely anti-human design. Krieg covered his nose. Alcohol is not a stimulant, but a nerve inhibitor, which is the complete opposite. That's why drunk people always do stupid things. Even if he is just a small gangster, Krieg has to stay in the best condition and inhale as little alcohol as possible.

But is this really safe? With this concentration, lighting a cigarette can set this old warehouse on fire. Krieg shook the hook. For some reason, the breath of life here became more and more mixed. For the first time, he found that the beach boy could not sense the exact number of people and could only point out the approximate direction.

It was really weird. Krieg accidentally kicked the debris, causing him to stumble and the things under the box were exposed.

Krieg squatted down and stared at the object.

It was a hand, a human hand.

Chapter 127 Evil Ritual

Oh wow, this is interesting.

Krieg picked up a stick and poked the hand. Due to being away from blood supply for a long time, the hand had shrunk a little and looked like it had been away from the human body for at least four or five days. Judging from the thickness of the knuckles, it should be a man's right hand. It was well maintained and it was obvious that it had never done heavy work.

Looking like a pampered guy, Krieg realized something and kicked away the boxes around him.

Sure enough, there was more than one hand here. There were other arms under the rolling box, each of which felt smooth and white. Krieg poked these limbs. Some arms had begun to rot, while some were still soft. As he moved, the smell of alcohol became more pungent, and the source was actually coming from these limbs.

This number

No clues have been found in the disappearance cases in East London. Most of the witnesses are mentally ill and have suicidal tendencies. It is recommended that when there is a surplus of police force, manpower control should be carried out, and follow-up visits and psychological intervention should be carried out on witnesses.

Could this be the place where the body was dumped in the missing case?

Krieg threw out his hook and attacked all the debris around him except the walls, but he didn't get any new gains, only a few arms fell to the ground.

The smell of alcohol is not from brewing wine, but to cover up the smell of rotting limbs. The smell of alcohol extending outside is not an arrogant provocation to law enforcement officers, but to cover up more serious crimes.

But Krieg stopped attacking. When the Beach Boy was released, it would passively detect the environment. The information from the hook told him accurately that the breath of life came from these limbs. Although it was extremely weak, it was obvious that these hands still had life.

It's all rotten! Krieg pressed his forehead. No wonder Beach Boy couldn't sense the exact number of people. If limbs could be considered life and could be sensed by life detection, then Fishhook really couldn't distinguish these auras.

But this doesn't make sense. These arms were obviously chopped off a long time ago. Krieg didn't wear gloves, so he could only make a rough count. The wounds on each arm were different. Some were extremely smooth, as if they were cut by a high-precision blade, and some had bumpy fractures, as if they were directly removed by a strange force.

There was absolutely nothing in common. Krieg didn't mind how bizarre the scene looked until the fish hooks were embedded one by one. He actually found one thing in common, which was that these hands had abrasions and fractures.

What the hell, did these people suddenly get the urge to try boxing, or are they just idiots punching the wall with all their might?

Krieg had no idea why this happened. For the first time, he felt that his imagination was so poor. Many fingers still had various jewels on them, which definitely did not mean they were begging for wealth. Most of the abrasions and fractures were in the same position, and they did not look like they had been tortured. Almost every arm had no signs of struggle, and it did not look like these victims were deliberately attacked. Instead, it looked like indiscriminate random killings.

A sociopathic lunatic?

Krieg's speculation was stuck. He couldn't understand. The rich people of this era did not advocate extreme body shapes. Everyone had more or less fat on their bodies. If it was really a human murderer, then he would definitely not be able to transport the body here. There were indeed dried bloodstains on the ground. Judging from the amount of bleeding, this was the scene of limb separation.

Why are you here? Isn't this just a simple gang?

Krieg was confused. Those three thugs obviously had never seen any supernatural phenomena. In any case, the boss Ulysses should be able to answer his questions.

Why haven't the gang members here come over yet? Krieg raised his head. He made quite a noise here. The guards should have notified the people inside as soon as he entered the door. He was also the one who turned on the lights. The sound of rummaging through drawers was also quite loud. Why hasn't anyone come to check the situation yet?

The fishhook extended towards the door, and the dog and the guard were still standing together, with no change in their life energy.

The guards were innocent.

Krieg pinched his index finger. That's right. If he knew what was going on inside, he would not let "Sheriff Hodgson" in so easily. In other words, in the eyes of the guards, the crimes of the Soluscher gang were nothing more than moonshine.

Continue to move inside, Krieg moved carefully. Although the totem light is omnipotent, this unknown situation is really doubtful. The factory building is built almost like a maze. Even if Krieg has a fishing line to locate, he can't break through the wall every time, and can only take a detour.

There really were no gang members. Krieg walked for a long time without seeing a single living person. He wanted to go to the center, but this damn maze didn't give him the opportunity, so he had to choose a place with rich life energy to move forward.

Where did the other 14 members go?

Krieg was thinking, and as he walked, he saw a pile of broken boxes. The life energy was coming from under the boxes.

Huo, is it the left leg this time?

Krieg was not surprised at all. He extended the fishing line in his hand again. In this factory building covering an area of ​​less than 2,000 square meters, there were five places with abnormal life energy. He drew a circle with a diameter of about 300 meters. The distance from each life energy to the center of the circle was the same. The right hand and left leg appeared, and there was no need to look at the remaining three.

Looking closely, the dried bloodstains on the ground were not left when the bodies were thrown. Each piece of bloodstain was circular, perfectly wrapping the body parts. It was just that his own actions destroyed the scene, causing him to fail to react immediately.

A sacrificial ritual, a cult sacrifice?

How interesting! Krieg grinned. Just when he was about to resolve the danger around him in this world, intelligence was delivered to his doorstep!

Although it looks dangerous, the risk here is actually controllable. The presence of alcohol is not dangerous to Krieg, but a rare helper. The light of the totem ensures that Krieg will be safe even if burned by flames. But at least this ceremony and the factory can be destroyed by flames. It is a very simple matter for the Thunder of Ba to ignite this place and burn it down.

Now that he was here, Krieg couldn't sleep well if he didn't go and see the core of this place. He had to satisfy his curiosity.

This is an unexpected development, but I don't sense any special powers, except for the residual vitality of these limbs. Is this going to create Frankenstein?

Did anything major happen in Britain during the late 19th century?

Krieg wrapped his coat tightly around him. He had a feeling that this time he would gain a lot.

Chapter 128 Dry Room

Blood sacrifices were not uncommon in Britain during this period. The more chaotic and dark a creed, the easier it was to spread in a chaotic era, and the two complemented each other. Many of the Ripper's crimes also showed traces of religious rituals, including dissecting specific parts of the body or removing the liver. However, just as he only targeted prostitutes, the victims sacrificed in the past were generally unnoticed individuals. Anyone who targeted wealthy neighborhoods was definitely a lunatic.

Of course there are indeed crazy people, but the few security guards who succeed are not there for nothing. Almost all the attackers are also asking for ransom, and this is just one example of such a large-scale disappearance.

It was very interesting. Krieg took off his gloves and scratched the ground lightly with his fingernails until a thin layer of dried blood accumulated between his fingernails. He didn't expect that the ground here was actually made of granite. The blood had been there for a long time and had a smell of decay. When he put it close to his nose, even alcohol couldn't cover up the smell of corruption.

It's strange. Krieg doesn't understand these messy rituals, but there are smuggled workers all around who have disappeared and no one cares. Why does the blood sacrifice specifically choose to target rich people with difficult difficulty? After all, they are all human beings. Biologically, everyone occupies the same area. Does mysticism have to recognize the status of people in human society?

This ritual is too lowly, isn't it? Do supernatural elements have an inferiority complex? A simple belief that man can conquer nature?

Although Krieg was skeptical about the effectiveness of this ritual, based on his own experience, he was more willing to assume that the ritual really did work.

The purpose and means of the ritual were unclear, so it was best not to speculate. Any guesses based on this little information were likely incorrect. Krieg stood up. He knew he could only go inside and find some clues. He placed the dried blood on his fingertips and gently rubbed it. Fine fragments of blood slowly flew out of his hands.

He carefully wiped the blood off his hands with a towel, put his gloves back on and tied them tightly, then took out his pistol, made sure the bullet was loaded, and held it with one hand in front and the other behind.

No matter the ritual, the most central location is the most likely to be guarded. If anything moves, it's always a good idea to shoot. Mozambique's combined marksmanship and physical prowess ensure the precision of Krieg's designs. Cautious of this world, he intends to use its inherent power to resolve the situation. As for whether there are innocent people inside, aside from the victim, anyone involved with the gang should consider themselves unlucky. It was their fault they bumped into me.

Krieg pressed himself against the wall, the fishhook barely moving in the ground, merely acting as a probe. He placed the muzzle of his gun in front of him and quietly opened the iron gate. First, he used the fishhook to detect the area, then half-crouched and scanned the area. Finally, he slowed his pace, moved inside, and once he was sure it was safe, he closed the door behind him.

However, all this cautious attitude was in vain, and the journey here was safe.

The closer they got to the center, the more strangely soft and loose the ground became. Krieg would often feel himself sink when he stepped on it, and the marks left by his shoes were clearly visible. This wasn't a problem; Krieg had deliberately worn the best-selling deer hunting boots. Furthermore, his height and weight didn't match at all, and the marks gave him a completely different appearance. The guard at the gate saw Krieg as a paunchy, fat man who had deliberately tied numerous sandbags to his body, having already prepared for being tracked. However, everything here was too dangerous. If anything went wrong, Krieg would set it on fire, and then no one would know who had been here before.

A dozen meters from the center, about two rooms away, Krieg paused briefly. The honeycomb-shaped factory itself was strange, especially after Krieg entered. He found no trace of any previous production or storage. The outermost room still felt bloody, but the rooms closer to the center were cleaner. Outside, there were at least cardboard boxes, various jars, and traces of vomit and stagnant water. But the rooms inside were completely empty, so bare that you could see the end at a glance.

It didn't make sense. Krieg repeatedly used the Beach Boys to move through the walls, but he didn't see any gangsters or even a trap along the way. The only guard in the entire factory was only active outside. If he didn't know that this was a place for blood sacrifice, Krieg would have thought it was an unrented warehouse.

Gangs and blood sacrifices, Krieg had some guesses. Before he was killed by a vegetative person, he was just walking along. How likely is it that an ordinary person would encounter supernatural phenomena while walking along?