Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 468 - 316: Blind to You (Part 3)

Chapter 468: Chapter 316: Blind to You (Part 3)

When the sound of an explosion came from inside the door, Colin held his gun in his right hand and pushed the door open with his left shoulder as he entered. He quickly scanned his immediate right and then took two steps towards the right. The team member behind him checked Colin’s blind spot on the left: "Clear." Then he moved to the left wall and, while moving, aimed his gun down the corridor.

Colin took a shock grenade from the team member who followed, looked at the team member leaning against the wall, and the latter nodded: "The corridor is clear."

The next two team members went to the counter and dragged the dazed innkeeper from behind it. Another half-human flipped over the counter. First, he picked up a small-sized novel and flipped through it, then he started to check the counter.

It didn’t take long before a shotgun, a revolver, and two grenades were uncovered from a hidden compartment.

"Shotguns and revolvers are civilian weapons, what’s the deal with this?" Colin handed his position over to a team member and then walked over to the young innkeeper.

The latter remained silent, not uttering a word.

Colin pulled out a nail gun from his waist: "Young man, you have ten seconds to think about who you are, where these things came from, and whether the assassin has gone up to the rooftop."

The young man spat out a noise of contempt.

A team member came over and struck him with the butt of his gun.

Colin cocked the nail gun, pointing it at the young man: "You have five seconds left."

The young man remained silent.

In the end, Colin pulled the trigger.

The two team members restraining the young man let go, and the lifeless body fell to the floor.

"The toughest mouths are the most dangerous," said a middle-aged team member. He came over and patted Colin on the shoulder: "Remember, we don’t have much time to hesitate. Let’s keep moving."

"Right, let’s go."

Colin wiped his nose and holstered his gun, swapping places with the team member stuck against the corridor wall. The teammate leaning on the wall nodded, and Colin led the team into the hallway.

The first door—the half-human team member glanced at the keyhole and gave a safe signal.

Colin continued forward and raised his hand at the second door.

As the half-human walked to the door, preparing to peek through the keyhole, gunfire from inside sprayed the half-human across the hallway—shotgun pellets had penetrated the wooden door, shredding him.

Colin grabbed an offensive grenade from the waist of a teammate, pulled the pin, and threw it inside.

Another gnome teammate crouched at Colin’s feet and thrust the barrel of the shotgun through the broken door, pulling the trigger.

After the explosion inside stopped, Colin pushed open the door, looked at the middle-aged man lying in a pool of blood, and ultimately fired at the survivor.

At that moment, the third door was pulled open, and the gnome pushed Colin into the room before dropping to the floor. However, the human teammate behind him wasn’t so lucky. Hit by shotgun fire in the abdomen, as he was about to fall, he noticed another shotgun poking out of the door, so he turned around, using himself as a shield for his teammates and took another shot.

The gnome struck the shotgun and the hand holding it with his weapon before the second shot could be fired.

Another gnome dashed past him, catching the already unpinned grenade thrown from behind and tossed it inside as he slid by the door.

Using the body of his already dead teammate as a shield, the dwarven team member raised his high-caliber rifle and blew the head off the bastard rushing out of the door at the end of the hall.

The gnome on the floor then pulled out a revolver and pulled the trigger at another person.

The gnome sliding by the door got into a tussle with a dog.

Colin leaned against the doorframe, crisis management kept him from peeking out immediately, thereby missing the shotgun blast, and then he leaned out to shoot inside, emptying a magazine in one breath.

The gnome who had succeeded in breaking the dog’s neck got to his feet, caught the revolver and grenade thrown by the teammate in the corner, pulled the safety pin, and tossed the grenade inside.

He didn’t notice another blood-covered human rushing out from the room behind him.

Gunshots rang out.

The teammate who had been leaning against the wall the whole time took down the intruder and then slid to the ground: "I’ve been shot!" He clutched at his abdomen.

"Old Jack’s dead!" The dwarf pushed the body off his shoulder and leaned against the other side of the hallway, holding up his gun. He turned on the flashlight under the barrel, and the gnome finally had a clear view inside the room: "Dead, damn it, it was a young girl."

"She killed Malin and almost killed Lindsay," sighed the healer, who had been tending to the wounded teammate’s abdomen, dropping the roll of bandages he was holding: "Damn it!"

"This confirms it’s one of the assassin’s safe houses," Colin said as he approached the door, looking at the dead person whose half-forehead had been blown away: "Tell the squads following up that we need backup, and also... tell the Church of the War God that we need a joint operation for the following targets."

With three dead and two seriously injured on just the first floor, how were they supposed to fight?

Having said that, Colin noticed the small bat hanging from the ceiling.

An animal companion... it seemed that the assassin upstairs had already noticed them.

What a headache, how could the Church of Justice’s tin cans keep going back and forth with the State Church assassins of the Eastern Kingdom?

Thinking this, Colin drew the nail gun from his waist and nailed the bat to the ceiling.

.........

Atop the rooftop, Donald withdrew his attention from the scope—his controlled animal was dead.

What happened downstairs? The bat he had disguised as an animal companion, how could it have died? The young man and his team couldn’t possibly have touched it, so that meant... there must be some uninvited guests.

What an unlucky year it was.

With such resentment, Donald stood up and moved to the access hatch to the rooftop, where he placed a plastic explosive trap on the cover, then hung a tripwire nearby. Any attempt to open it would be greeted with an explosion from above.

Then he returned to his shooting position and glanced at the time on his pocket watch.

Normally, the target would enter the square in two more minutes... Both the hunter and the prey were running out of time.

.........

Casaman walked around the corner, looking ahead at the square not far away... Ah, the square, such a distant memory indeed, he still remembered how as a child, he and she would often play there, where the fountain was always cooler than other places.

The square was still there, the fountain still functioning, but the people had changed.

Humans, from ancient times to the present, are nothing but a set of living numbers.

With a twinge of regret for the past, Casaman took a few steps, then noticed that the beggar who had always been begging at the entrance of the alley had disappeared.

Strange, Casaman took a few more steps and then detected a very faint smell of blood.

He surveyed his surroundings and finally saw an unlucky gentleman, his face covered in blood, sitting by the street, surrounded by people talking about something.

Had he been robbed? Or hit by a carriage?

Casaman’s heart eased slightly—it was indeed the scent of human blood.

Secrets hide within scents, and those who fail to understand them will one day pay the price.

With this thought, Casaman continued on his way.

As he was about to enter the plaza area, a carriage slowed down beside him.

"Sir, you dropped something." A familiar voice sounded next to him.

Casaman looked up to see Malin, holding a small paper bag in his hand.

·Don’t go this way, there’s a gunner across the square here to assassinate another Casaman.

Malin’s whisper reached his ear, as he pointed towards the large shopping center on the roadside.

·Go inside, you can use the cover of the mall to cross the square directly.

"Thanks," Casaman took the handbag from Malin.

"You’re welcome." The carriage moved on.

Casaman plunged into the mall without looking back, casually picked out a trench coat, then dived into the changing room, taking out a roll of paper money, around one hundred, from the paper bag, and a short-barreled revolver.

After checking the bullets, Casaman tucked it in on the left side of his waist and then walked out of the changing room, nodding to the approaching salesman, "Just this one, I’m very satisfied."

While paying, he noticed someone.

A very ordinary Southerner from Sydney.

They had seen each other when Casaman came downstairs, at that time, Casaman was at the door, and he was polishing shoes on the opposite side of the road.

Then they met at the crossroads, at that time, Casaman was buying a newspaper, while he spoke across the road with a red-skinned man from the Saryan Kingdom.

And now, they met again.

Casaman smiled as he took the shopping bag, paid the money, and then glanced at his pocket watch with a bit of carelessness.

There were still twenty-four minutes before the meeting started.

A bit long isn’t it, Casaman.

He walked on, pacing to the rhythm of the mall’s band through the various shopping areas, took a look at himself in a mirror to confirm the person behind him.

He stopped in front of the cooking utensils area, and from the bright no-rust pot surface that reflected his image, he spotted the individual.

Finally, Casaman walked past the drink section, took a cup of the sample sweet drink, and found that person in the reflection of the clear liquid.

Downing it in one gulp, Casaman walked out of the mall, walked into an alley, and then quickly vanished from the sight of his pursuer.

The latter followed into the alley, walked quite a distance inside, but couldn’t locate the target.

As he surveyed his surroundings, Casaman slowly emerged from the shadows behind him, along with the dagger in his hand.

As the cold blade pierced through the back, as the young man struggled and lost his strength, as Casaman withdrew the dagger, and then cut open the young man’s sleeve to see the tattoo of the Book of Knowledge on his shoulder, the undercover agent sighed.

The Archbishop had already begun to suspect him... No, that’s not right, Mr. Malin might have noticed an assassin intending to kill the man masquerading as Casaman, but Casaman understood, the assassin’s next task, if not to kill that man, was to come for him.

The Archbishop of the Church of Knowledge had decided to kill him.

"Such a headache indeed."

Wiping the dagger clean on his suit, Casaman took off his suit jacket, covered the young man’s face with it, then went to the corner, picked up the shopping bag, took out the trench coat, cut off the brand, and put it on.

Stepping out of the alley, Casaman glanced at his pocket watch, there were still seven minutes until the meeting time.

Looking at the venue of the meeting not far away—Carterburg City Hall, Casaman once again plunged into the crowd.

Passing a patrol officer, newspaper vendors, lovers in deep affection, elderly people walking side by side, upon reaching the front of the city hall, lawyer Casaman tipped his hat to the officer standing at the door and greeted them in the standard accent of the Central Administrative Province, "Good afternoon, officer, I am Casaman." Then he presented his credentials.

"I am here for the meeting this afternoon."

The two officers checked his credentials and then stepped aside, with one of them smiling, "Welcome to Carterburg, Mr. Casaman Saryan, attorney."