In the blink of an eye, I was already outside the warehouse.

I heard Graves screaming in the house. At this moment he must have been in vain spinning in circles, only to find that I was nowhere to be seen, except for a card on the ground, and mocked him mercilessly for his stupidity.

I threw another card out of the open warehouse door behind me—there was no need to hide it anymore.

I left Graves in the burning warehouse, and I felt a little guilty. But he couldn't die, he was strong. Moreover, the fire alarm at the dock is a big deal for this port town, and maybe it will make it easier for me to escape.

As I was looking for a way to escape from the slaughterhouse, an earth-shattering explosion was heard. I glanced back.

Graves reappeared. He stepped out of the gaping hole in the wall, his eyes eager to kill. I flicked the brim of my hat at him and ran wildly. He was in hot pursuit, shotguns rumbling like thunder.

I must admit that I admire his determination.

Hopefully this determination won't kill me tonight.

The little boy stared at him in horror and trembled as he was taken to the captain's quarters.

There was a scream of pain from behind a door at the end of the hallway. He began to regret that he shouldn't have been here. The wailing echoed throughout the claustrophobic belly of the jet-black behemoth, and every crew member could hear it clearly. It is said that this was intentional by the designers of the Abyss.

The first mate, whose face was covered in cobwebs, pressed the boy's shoulders and signaled him not to panic. They stopped in front of that door. There was another scream of pain inside, and the boy shivered.

"Calm down, what you have to say, the captain will be very interested."

With that, he shouted a few words at the door. After a while, a strong thug with a tattooed face and a broad-bladed scimitar on his back opened the door. The boy didn't hear what the two of them were saying, for his eyes were completely drawn to the burly figure sitting in front of him.

The captain was a majestic middle-aged man with thick muscles like a bull on his neck and shoulders. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his blood-soaked forearms, and his red coat and tricorne hat hung beside him.

"Planck......" the little boy whimpered with difficulty, his tone full of fear and awe.

"Captain, this kid has news for you." The first mate said.

Planck didn't speak, didn't turn his head. He remained focused on what was at hand. The crew grabbed the little boy behind his back, and he couldn't help but stagger forward two steps. He trembled and moved towards the sole overlord of the Abyss, as if there was a cliff in front of him. And when he finally saw what the captain was doing, his breath tightened.

There were several blood-soaked basins on the table, as well as a tray containing blades, meat hooks, and other unnamed surgical instruments that reflected a blinding light.

A man lies on Planck's workbench, his whole body held tightly in place by a belt, and only his head can barely turn. His neck was tense, his face was covered in sweat, and he looked around in despair.

The boy glanced at it, unable to take his eyes off the man's fleshy left leg. He suddenly forgot why he was here.

At this moment, Planck turned and stared at the diminutive visitor in front of him. It was a pair of shark-like cold and numb eyes. He carried a slender knife that hung lightly between his fingers, like a delicate paintbrush.

"Bone carving, a dying art." Planck said, returning his attention to the workbench. "Nowadays, few people have the patience to spend so much time on a single bone. See? Every knife counts. ”

Although the muscles on his thighs had been completely stripped away, leaving only extremely hideous wounds, the man was still alive. The boy was speechless by the horror of the situation, staring at the intricate lines on the man's leg bones: the curled tentacles and waves were entwined and entwined, so delicate that they were a beautiful masterpiece. And because of this, it looks even more terrifying.

Planck's "work" sobbed.

"Please......" he groaned almost inaudibly.

Planck ignored his pleas. He lowered his carving knife and grabbed a cheap glass of whiskey and splashed it on the man's wound, washing away the remaining blood. The man cried so loudly that he almost tore his throat. Suddenly, the screams stopped abruptly, and he rolled his eyes, as if relieved, and passed out. Planck cursed in disgust.

"Listen, boy," said Planck, "sometimes even your most loyal men forget how many pounds and taels they have. So, I need to remind them every now and then. The real power lies entirely in what others think of you. Even a moment of weakness and you're done. ”

There was no trace of blood on the boy's face, and he nodded vigorously.

Planck pointed to the half-dead man on the table and said, "Wake him up." You haven't heard enough of his singing. ”

The ship's doctor hurried forward, and Planck turned his head, his eyes flicking into the boy's face like a whip. "So, what did you just want to say?"

The boy said hesitantly, "One...... A ...... alone On the docks in Rat Town...... There was a man ......"

"Go on."

"He's very good at hiding, and the hooks didn't even notice it, but I saw him."

"Hmm." Planck grunted, beginning to feel uninterested. He turned his back, grabbed his carving knife, and prepared to continue.

"Don't stop, keep talking." Scarface's crew urged.

"He's got a stack of cards in his hand, it's beautiful, and it's shiny."

Planck rose from his chair like a colossus rising from the abyss.

"Where?" The strap on the holster of the pistol creaked with him.

"Outside the warehouse, the big warehouse near the shed."

Planck grabbed his hat and hat, and his face turned a terrible scarlet from his rage. The light reflected in his eyes, shimmering red. The boy, as well as the others, couldn't help but take a step back.

"Give this kid a silver coin and a hot meal." Captain Planck instructed the first mate, and then took a big stride and walked resolutely to the hatch.

"All deck assembled. We've got work to do. ”

I coughed up a mouthful of sticky, black phlegm, and the smoke from the warehouse blistered my lungs.

But I didn't have time to catch my breath. If Trist had escaped, I would not have spent more than ten years walking through the Land of Runeterra, looking for his traces. When pigs fly.

It's over tonight.

I fired several shots in quick succession to tell him that Lao Tzu was not dead. The slippery ghost was only interested in finding a way out of the docks. He knocked over a few thugs who stood in his way and began to play cards—the same trick of the big man. I kept shooting, bullets grazing his clothes, just to keep him from focusing.

There are more and more people in the Iron Hooks, like flies around the dung pit. They tried to stop him, but they were instantly knocked down by a few red lights thrown out by him, and then ran with all their might. These miscellaneous soldiers are just a target for Trist, and I'm his real opponent, and obviously he knows that.

But his fight with the minions allowed me to catch up with him. He took a lunge and scurried to the skeleton of a whale, delusionally hoping that he could drag on for some time. As soon as I shot him, all he was left with flying bones.

He returned a card and flew right into my neck—without mercy. I raised my gun and fired. The cards exploded in mid-air, knocking us both to the ground. He rolled and crawled, got up before me, and began to run again. I kept pulling the trigger of "fate" like crazy, and the firing pin bell rang violently, as if it was about to break in two in the next second.