Will, a full member of the Guild of Daggers and Cloaks, was dubbed Iron Fist by his peers, and after his successful promotion to the rank of Warrior of the Second Class, he was pulled into the inner echelons of the guild by the decision-makers, and from then on he was relieved of his duties as a caravan guard and began to participate in lucrative business.

That is, in order to promote the increasing prosperity of the city's commodity trade, improve the consumption power of the low-level residents, reduce the work intensity of tax collectors, and make certain goods circulate in less decent trade channels.

This helpful job was extremely challenging, and was often warmly sought after by the city guards, who often led the silly-looking mischievous hounds to welcome them in the aisles where Vir and others worked.

Because this excessive enthusiasm was so touching, in order not to affect their normal work, Will and the others had to play hide and seek and wheel betting on their luck, and all kinds of cheating methods did not need to be elaborated.

However, once this little trick is recognized, the lighter ones will hand over all the items they carry with them as the spoils of the victorious ones to the city guards, and the heavier ones will put a tie around their necks and perform a dance of tremors and tremors in full view on a sunny morning.

Unlike the unlucky ones who are loners, Tekkenville rarely gets into trouble because of the close connections of the Dagger and Cloak Guilds at the town hall, and of course every ten days and a half months a large tax is deposited into a designated bank account as a testimony to this precious friendship.

A veteran councillor of the City Hall for many consecutive terms, a veteran inspector of the tax office action team, a certain knight chief of the city guard who has no hope of promotion and just wants to save enough for his pension before he retires, this line and the forces behind them hold up a big umbrella for the dagger and the cloak union.

On the morning of that day, the two merchant ships carrying the cotton raw materials to the factory area were moored at the simple wharf near the river of the Kirk textile mill, and the tax officer, who was fed by the shiny silver deleur, only hurriedly looked at the top few bales of cotton, did not care at all about the depth of the waterline, estimated the vague number, and took a handful of copper fennig to finish the day's work.

It is strange that, in spite of the completion of the payment of taxes, the textile mill did not send hired workers to carry it into the warehouse, and let it be bundled into two thick and long, valuable cotton stacks by the damp river in the open air.

No one in the vicinity thought it was strange, it seemed to be a common sight, until dusk, when the tide of release poured out, and a few hired men came to inspect it, and their work was to loosen the waterlogged cables slightly, and the mills upstream had to release the embankment to store water, and in order to prevent the two cargo ships from running aground and capsizing, the length of the cables had to be loosened and drifted in the middle of the river.

Anyway, the cargo ships had already lowered their stone anchors, and the current could not push them away, so the hired men finished their work at hand, laughed and chatted for a while, and then left the dock.

It wasn't until nightfall, when the roaring machines stopped roaring, and the boiling popularity gradually returned to desertion, that a dozen people came out of the Kirk textile mill one after another, among them Iron Fistville, wearing a round-brimmed hat diagonally, with an open neckline to reveal a neck that had become dark red after drinking a lot, the buttons of the shirt were crooked, and the hem of the garment, one tucked into the trousers, and the other still fluttering in the night wind.

With a thumb-thick cigar in his mouth, he spewed out a fragrant blue smoke with a satisfied smile on his face, and it was clear that Weir was not smoking the inferior scraps of thin paper rolled in the past, but the best of the best, with the three-headed dog stamp on the mouthpiece. The handicraft workshop under the name of a certain great lord in the north used to be only available to the noble people, but after mechanization, the production was expanded, and even ordinary wealthy merchants could enjoy it.

As a lucrative commodity, in order to avoid a high punitive tobacco tax, a certain bigwig in the underground world colludes with a sufficient number of members of the Senate to secretly carry out small-scale smuggling through a third party.

Stumbling upon the truth of the goods, a Seberan cigar buys Iron Fist Veil in order to gag him, and he enjoys the best tobacco that only nobles can taste in the past, and as wisps of green smoke rise, Will fantasizes about becoming a decent man, smiling like a white fool in front of his companions.

The group came to the simple dock on the shore, the low river water exposed the muddy tidal flats, as a newcomer, Weir waded into the water, put away the stone anchor sunk in the riverbed, and everyone worked together to pull the boat to the shore, lay a ladder for two people to be wide in parallel, and then got on the boat one after another, and first moved the cotton stacks into the warehouse.

The disguise on the cargo ship faded away, revealing the actual cargo of the trip, two crates of the finest cigars popular with nobles and wealthy merchants, ten barrels of fine brewing that dwarfed the Earl of Eastwood's spirits, champagne for celebrations and major ceremonies or ceremonies, such as weddings, dinners, and the feast of Dionysus, the secret rites passed down secretly.

Scraps and bits of miscellaneous items, curative herbs, silk weighing as heavy as gold, crystal clear glassware, fire nitrate necessary for tanning leather, alchemical potions for special purposes, ointments to maintain the relationship between husband and wife, scented candles to arouse emotions, they have been booked in advance by buyers before they have even landed.

At least a second-class warrior of the trade union, the valuables were carefully unloaded from the cargo ship and piled up at the only sewer entrance to the factory. There were no accidents on the way, even minor collisions were not allowed, the guests had extremely high requirements for the quality of the goods, and if there was a return, just a few seemingly insignificant bad comments, the dagger and the cloak union would not want to be mixed up in this industry.

As they entered the sewers and prepared to escort the goods they had obtained through the secret channels to the city's commercial area near Victory Square, the scavenger sentry of the nearby scavengers, Gorgau, a stealthy professional, immediately signaled in the direction of President Triss with a candlelight from a distance.

Aldrich, who had waited for two days and finally came across a big fish, moved his hands and feet, and the official members of the union, who were recuperating with half-closed eyes and half-closed, immediately regained their consciousness and took out their carefully maintained weapons.

They had accumulated enough experience in previous battles, coupled with a fat and meaty diet, and successfully promoted to the rank of first-class soldiers, and those who were fortunate enough to be mentored by President Triss became second-class fighters one after another, such as the former shipside sailor Duvel and the extremely powerful construction worker Todd.

The scavengers' union, which is increasingly valued by the city hall, now has a station at the Black Cat Tavern and a solid place in the sewers. The dark inhabitants of the periphery, predominantly inhuman, are preoccupied with the gray shrouds and do not bother with the dung beetles that live on their bodies, unaware of the growing scavengers' union under Aldrich's leadership.

President Tris, who had plenty of money, changed the regular members into new equipment, waterproof boots, leather clothes and pants to prevent maggots from crawling all over the ground in the rancid sewage, clubs, spears and spears were replaced with standard weapons, and the surface of the wooden shield was covered with cowhide and nailed with thick iron blocks to increase the defensive power. Aldrich, who has a wide range of channels, even got a few crossbows for the union, the shape is a bit rudimentary, but the lethality is extremely considerable, and it can even be said that it is the trump card of the scavenger, which is responsible for the crossbowmen who are proficient in archery, and the accuracy is very high, even in the chaos of the battle, it can always hit the target.

When the core members of the Dagger and Cloak Guild escorted valuable smuggled goods and unwittingly stepped into the ambush trap carefully arranged by Aldrich Tris, the leader of the group, a veteran fourth-level thief, suddenly felt palpitations for no reason, and he immediately raised his hand and clenched his fists, stopped and turned sideways to signal the team to return the way they came.

'Discovered, keen telepathy, smelling danger in advance?' Aldrich decided to drive the sheep into the tiger's mouth.

He suddenly appeared behind the smugglers, discarding his familiar knight's heavy sword and holding the sailor's scimitar in both hands, striking left and right, blowing out two torches, and suddenly the surroundings fell into darkness.

Tris, who is proficient in blind combat, raised his knife and fell, and the thin blade quickly swept through the neck of a smuggler in charge of guarding, and then rushed to the next target without stopping, only then did a hissing wind sound sounded behind him, and the heavy object fell to the ground, which showed how fast the knife was.

At the end of the procession, as if the embodiment of death descended with a scythe that harvested the souls of the dead, the smell of blood and death was not unfamiliar to the core members of the Dagger and Cloak Guild, but on the contrary, they were extremely familiar.

After a brief period of dead silence, like frightened turtles, they immediately spontaneously contracted their hands and feet, gathered around the cargo, and formed the strongest defensive circle, and then unfolded into a two-ended, sharp rhombic array.

Most of the traps in the vicinity of the scavenger union failed, and they waded into the water without hesitation, the two columns of shields in front of them continued to advance, and the iron-tipped spears continued to launch stabbing attacks from the gaps, taking advantage of the number of people, filing off the smugglers, and retreating again and again to protect themselves.

The leader of the leader, the senior fourth-level thief, seemed to have a somewhat special bloodline, and knew that the retreat was blocked by a high-level warrior, and immediately called out to the shadows. Behind him, the shadow of the flickering firelight stretched abruptly, then leaped up and engulfed him, and when he was calmed down, the leader disappeared on the spot.

'Shadow sneaking!' Aldrich immediately opened his true vision, a faint imperceptible scarlet blood light, quickly approaching him in the darkness, as if sensing Tris's gaze, and the veteran thief suddenly stopped.

Aldrich gently shook off the beads of blood from the scimitar, and in the face of the retreating formation, the dim light of the fire was about to expose him to this group of murderers, he took two steps back with some concern.

With this move, the offensive and defensive posture that was originally flawless suddenly collapsed, and the senior thief knew that this was a rare opportunity, and immediately sneaked up with the help of the shadow to get closer, and then launched a proud move and backstabbed.

"Whew!" Aldrich sneered, leaned forward, the sailor's scimitar held in his left hand was handed out from under his armpit, blocking the killing blow, and the forward leaning body turned quickly in a semi-circle step, and the scimitar in his right hand let out a terrible scream, and the cold light swept through the air.

"Poof!" felt like he had hit his target, but Aldridge's tenacity didn't let his guard down, and it was clear that his opponent wasn't a general, and there were more clever tricks than shadow stealth and backstabs.

Without hesitation, he abandoned the knife, deceived himself into approaching, intercepted the elbow of the senior thief with his left palm, and even cracked the opponent's counterattack, charged with a straight fist with his right hand, and used the power of the knight's skill to break several of his ribs on the spot.

The tough touch, obviously the inner armor, and the quality is quite high, Aldridge continued to pursue, making up for a powerful side kick, who would have expected that a veteran thief who had been hit hard in the face had already retreated, and with the help of this blow, he leaped backwards and disappeared into the dim sewers.

To chase? or not to chase?

Aldrich found himself at the crossroads, and he was very resolute, picked up the sailor's scimitar, and walked towards the approaching smuggler, 'Two birds in the forest are better than one bird in hand.' ’

The thief, who retreated not far away and re-entered the stealth thief, endured the pain and returned to the same place, and found that Aldrich was not fooled, he could only come back, after all, it was his duty, even if he fought to the death with a warrior who might enter the transcendent level, he had to give his own life.