112: Poor Alley

I quietly watched these people fight to the death from the side; most of them were masters.

If we only compared martial arts, I couldn't defeat more than three people.

When using magical abilities, my current Hunter spells and Mage spells combined only have a few first-level spells I can use.

Without any support, after I cast those few spells, I would only be able to surrender.

The best outcome today would be for me to sneak out, slowly make my way back to Black Panther Mall, and meet up with Randall and the others.

At this moment, the lean man with a scar extending from his face to his left earlobe had his dagger stopped half an inch from the Black Robed Man's Adam's apple, while his own left shoulder was cut open by the opponent's short sword.

Their heavy breaths steamed white mist from the debris-strewn floor until two shouts came from the cellar: "'Powder Keg' is gone!"

"The person is gone!"

"Scarface"'s scar suddenly twitched, pulling from his earlobe to the corner of his mouth: "Your people are quite quick-handed."

"That's what I should say." The Black Robed Man's sword tip drooped three inches, revealing his torn lining—half a signal tube was exposed from a secret pocket. "When did the Porcupine Guild turn into a rabbit's nest?"

"Scarface" stepped back half a pace and shouted simultaneously with the Black Robed Man, "Stop!"

The six people in the melee jumped back in unison.

Their subordinates tacitly retreated to the walls on both sides.

The Black Robed Man flicked off the blood beads from his blade, "How about I go inside and take a look with you?"

"Scarface" rubbed the hilt of his dagger with his thumb, pondered for a moment, then said, "Alright, only you come down." He then turned and told his subordinates, "Keep a close watch; don't let anyone else in!"

I huddled in the corner, breathing very lightly.

Without the cover of fighting sounds, I was very worried that my breathing would be discovered.

"Where did you hide the person?"

"You're the ones who kidnapped him!"

"If I had succeeded, why would I still be fighting with you?"

Voices of argument came from inside the cellar.

"Search! Turn over every corner!"

"Check the doors and windows for traces!"

The two groups who had been fighting to the death were now cooperating to search for my traces.

I couldn't help but feel anxious.

As these people rummaged through everything, I took advantage of their dispersion, avoiding the bloodstains and debris on the floor, and carefully began to move towards the door.

When I reached behind the door, I huddled in the shadows, waiting for someone to open the door so I could slip out.

A wine barrel was kicked over and rolled, wooden staves "creaked" and broke, and spilled wine "splashed" and soaked into the floor cracks.

The four people in the cellar found nothing and returned to the room.

The Black Robed Man's face was grim; he handed a bottle of healing potion to his dying companion.

The thief nicknamed Scar Ear scanned the room; their previous fight had left the room in a mess, making it almost impossible to easily find any traces.

"How did you two watch him?! Slap! Slap!"

He stepped forward a few paces and backhanded the two guards, slapping each of them.

As luck would have it, a wound on one of the guards' cheeks split open, and blood beads splattered like fine rain.

A drop of crimson landed precisely, heading straight for me, but at the moment it was about to touch, it was blocked by that invisible barrier, suspended in mid-air like a bizarre red gem.

My heart tightened, and I quickly mobilized a wisp of energy to envelop the blood bead, attempting to make it disappear from others' sight.

However, this subtle anomaly, along with the faint fluctuation of the energy shield, did not escape Scar Ear's sharp eyes.

"There's someone behind the door!"

As Scar Ear shouted, the dagger in his hand flew from his grasp and sped towards me.

In the nick of time, I spun around abruptly, pulled open the wooden door with all my might, and plunged into the night outside.

The wooden door behind me made a dull "thud," followed by the "thwack" of the dagger deeply embedding itself in the wood.

The alley was narrow and winding, and I moved like a whirlwind, my boots drumming a rapid beat on the cobblestones, each step treading on the edge of life and death.

The energy shield began to falter during high-speed movement, like a candle in the wind and rain, threatening to extinguish at any moment.

Once the energy shield broke, I would be completely exposed.

Footsteps behind me were like shadows, ten people like hounds, hot on my heels.

Their breathing and curses intertwined, forming an invisible pressure that pushed me forward relentlessly.

The unfamiliar alleys were scattered like stars, and I constantly turned and changed directions, attempting to shake off the people behind me.

My lungs were like a broken bellows clamped by fire tongs; the closest pursuers' boot steps were just ten meters behind me, and some had spread out, now fanning out to encircle this spiderweb-like slum alleyway.

Sweat dripped from the tips of my golden hair, spreading dark marks on the snow-covered bluestone slabs.

Dawn was already breaking, and my unstable energy invisibility shield would be even easier for them to see through during the day.

I tugged at my coarse linen clothes—this disguise I had just changed into while running was almost soaked with sweat.

I could only keep running, creating more misleading traces in the labyrinthine alleys.

As I rounded the seventh corner, a moldy wooden sign suddenly fell from above; I dodged to the side, but my sole stepped on a loose stone slab.

My entire left leg instantly sank into a sewage pit, and the putrid, icy mud immediately reached my thigh. At this moment, the pursuers' shouts suddenly became clear—I had panicked and rushed into a dead end.

"Damn it!"

Ten paces behind me was a three-meter-high brick wall, with snow piled on top.

Just as I was about to risk everything and climb the wall, a clear child's voice suddenly came from the other side of the wall: "Old Cripple's bread van turned left!"

Seven or eight figures, like nimble swifts, flipped over the wall.

The leading boy, wearing a black eye patch over his left eye, had his cloak flutter up upon landing, revealing three table knives tucked into his waist.

The red-haired girl following him had blood-stained rags wrapped around her bare feet, yet she smiled as if playing hopscotch.

The pursuers' footsteps were already closing in on the alley entrance.

I had no time to think; I held my breath and rushed into the group of children.

When the last red-nosed boy landed, I intentionally bumped into his shoulder, deactivating my invisibility amidst the chaos.

"Hey! Where did you come from?!" The eye-patched boy instantly drew a table knife.

I raised my mud-covered hands, letting my voice tremble just right: "Th-they're chasing me! They said I took the bakery's..."

Before I finished speaking, "Scarface" and the Black Robed Man had already blocked the alley entrance.

"Kids." The Black Robed Man stepped forward, "Have you seen a boy with black hair and black eyes?"

The eye-patched boy suddenly grinned, revealing the gap where his front tooth was missing: "Black hair? Are you talking about the one in the alley behind the tavern that the wild dogs gnawed half his face off?" The children behind him burst into shrill laughter, like a flock of ravens tearing at carrion.

The Black Robed Man's knuckles whitened on the sword hilt, and the leather-wrapped hilt made a faint creaking sound.

The bulging veins on his hand were like centipedes crawling under his skin, winding from his wrist bone all the way to where his forearm was covered by the black robe.