The Butcher of Truth didn't give himself a set time to complete the task, but apparently the sooner this thing was done, the better, and who knows if the Face Dancer would find him?

Muhadi thought so as he walked down the dusty streets of Tyre. A few thieves who didn't have long eyes saw his absent-minded appearance and tried to come forward and steal his money bag, but naturally they were subdued by the teenager one by one.

Muhati grabbed the wrist of a human thief who looked to be only fourteen or fifteen years old and slammed it behind him. The thief cried out in pain, but the boy was indifferent, just staring at the other's painful expression with the same eyes as a researcher.

The thief saw that one of his hands was restrained, and he was powerless to break free. Seeing the opportunity, he immediately pulled a dagger out of his boot with his left hand and stabbed Muhadi with his backhand.

However, Kill Nian simply twisted his opponent's restrained hand, forcing the thief to bend forward, and then lightly grabbed the opponent's left hand and snatched the dagger. It's a joint technique derived from Gracie Jiu-Jitsu, which Muhathir learned in the previous world and is still as effective here.

The edge of the dagger glowed green, it turned out to be poisonous, the boy thought to himself, and then threw it on the ground and kicked it away.

This is the fourth, Mohadi sighed. "This is the punishment you deserve. He said to the thief.

The boy drew his saber, the sharp edge of which pressed against the opponent's wrist. "In the name of justice, and of my honor as a psychic man, I hereby declare that one of your hands will be removed as punishment for your stupidity. ”

"Merciful!, sir!" the thief shouted, and his pleas for mercy turned into screams, wave after wave.

This angle is not very convenient for force, so Muhadi can only slowly cut off the opponent's right hand, while using psionic energy to detect the opponent's feelings.

The blade cuts through the skin, cuts the tendons and ligaments, and then saws off the bones back and forth, back and forth. Passers-by walked past them indifferently, and at most a few foreign merchants glanced at them curiously, and then passed by without looking back.

Muhadi savored the feeling with the thief, but the pain of Cheng dù did little to bother him compared to the screaming thief. This stimulation is insignificant compared to the hallucinatory pain created in psionic training sessions.

The thief, who had had one hand cut off, sat on his knees, powerlessly picking up his own severed organ. Instead of retracting his cutlas, the boy grabbed the opponent's collar with one hand and placed the knife on the thief's neck with the other.

"Next, punish you for stealing. Muhathir said.

"What? But you're already ......," the thief begged for mercy again, his voice out of tune as he continued to roar and scream.

"Just from that was to punish you for your stupidity," explained the boy, "there have already been three unsighted men who tried to steal me but were caught, and you dare to be the fourth." ”

With a little force on his hand, the blade tasted the blood in his throat, "If you don't want to die, you can do it." ”

"I do, I do!" the thief did not miss a chance to survive, "I can grant you any request, any request!"

Muhathir looked at the thief, who was only fourteen or fifteen years old, only a little younger than his current body.

According to the custom of Attas, humans reach adulthood at the age of fourteen, so in the eyes of the Atass, Muhadi is considered an adult. On the contrary, he himself regarded teenagers as teenagers according to the view of the previous world.

"Then tell me what do you know about the waterworks on the east side of the city that once belonged to Zaheer ibn Shahbut?"

The man didn't dare to hide anything, and told everything he knew.

Muhadi listened patiently, interjecting from time to time to ask questions, asking the other party to fill in every detail. When you are sure that you can't squeeze anything out of it, you let go of the other person and say, "Get out." ”

Ignoring the bleeding wound, the thief picked up his severed hand and disappeared in a puff of smoke. The Athas are much stronger than ordinary people on Earth, and with the surgical medicine of this world being quite adequate, he has a glimmer of hope that he may be able to save that hand.

The boy watched as the thief disappeared around the corner, and he went to find his boss, for sure. Muhati hoped that the boss would give up and order his boys on the street to avoid him, or he would have to beat up a large group of people.

This was the everyday scene in the streets of Tyre after the revolution, where there were no more sheriffs and soldiers were not busy catching criminals. A large number of people have lost their jobs and become vagrants due to the blockade of a large number of trade routes by the Witch King Alliance. Violence and crime on the streets have skyrocketed, and people must learn to protect themselves and punish criminals, or they will become the target of all villains.

After getting the information he needed from the hapless thief, Muhati headed straight for the Punishment Square, and the road under his feet gradually changed from dirt to brick and stone, and finally to the iconic red and yellow bricks of the Punishment Square.

A total of 168 iron pillars stand here, like a jungle of metal. At every moment there was a tattoo on the metal trunk of a person, some dead, some dying. Flocks of scavenging birds hover over the square, enjoying the feast.

Muhadi walked over to a metal trunk and reached out his hand, touching the cold metal. Each of these pillars is decades old, and their surface has a strange dark red color, but it is not rust. Muhadi reached out and felt a slippery, sticky feeling. It was the blood left behind by the corpses at the top of the pillar, and the blood of countless slaves and slave owners seeped into the pillar, forming this strange dark red.

The boy looked up at the corpse at the top, but only a skeleton in tattered robes remained. The body is said to be that of Zaheer ibn Shahbut, who had been a wealthy man in Tyre and had been slaughtered in his mansion by a group of gladiators led by the Butcher of Truth after the revolution. His wealth was divided, his women were strong, and he himself was killed by the butcher of truth in revenge for his crimes as a powerful man for watching gladiators kill each other for fun.

After he was killed, his body was transported here and hung on a metal trunk in Punishment Square, proclaiming that the city had ushered in a new era of slavery, oppression, freedom and prosperity.

The whole thing seemed to be in good shape, al-Muhadi thought to himself, but how could this skeleton hire a face dancer? Could it be that the Butcher of Truth was mistaken, when there were other people in the city who could afford to hire those horrible assassins?

He looked up at Zaheer's corpse, and a sand eagle perched on his shoulder, its long beak outstretched and pecked at the corpse's hollow eye sockets.

"Face Dancer......" the boy whispered the nickname of the Assassin Group, trying to inspire himself.

"It seems that I really want to go to the water plant to investigate on the spot. ”

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