London, Taor Hamletz.

Dusk had arrived, and the setting sun on the horizon reflected on the yellowing sewage flowing from the tannery, gilding it with a layer of gold, and the continuous stream of sewage spread to the horizon, which at first glance looked like a golden road to the zenith.

As night falls, the taverns in the brick lanes of Whitechapel District come alive.

It was crowded with merchant sailors, wharf wharves, and kiln burners from the nearby brick factories.

The smell of fermented sweat fills the air, the steaming heat of freshly baked food can be seen everywhere, the sound of rude guests bragging and beer glasses colliding, and the occasional angry shouting of a tavern waitress after being molested.

The maid pointed at the sailor's nose and scolded, "You uneducated thing! Kind of how can you pinch it again? See if I don't chop off your hand! ”

The drunken sailor burped, he leaned back in his chair, so drunk that he didn't even have the strength to get up, he looked up at the ceiling, but he still didn't forget to ask for a bargain.

"Don't be angry, baby. Where did you buy this ass? How does it feel harder than a stone to the touch? Your tavern is too bad to drink, the beer that shouldn't be mixed with water doesn't taste as strong as the sea, but the bread and ass that should be mixed with water are harder than the other. ”

When the waitress heard this, her face flushed with anger, and she raised the tray in her hand and was about to smash it at the sailor's head, but before she could do anything, she saw a man stop in front of her, it was the new owner of the tavern, Judd Martin.

Mr. Martin, with round cheeks, had a mercenary smile on his face, pressed one hand into the tray raised by the waitress, and then lowered his voice and said, "Annie, it's almost all right, we still have to do business." ”

Anne complained with some grievances: "But uncle ......"

Martin reprimanded: "Don't be, this is not as good as my hometown, if you want to eat in London, you have to suffer a little grievance." If you really don't want to work here, then find yourself a good in-law as soon as possible, and I'll pay someone else to go. Do you know how much it cost to apply for a liquor license for this store? Girl, you can do it, it's not easy for me to make money, uncle, please don't mess with my business. ”

Hearing this, Anne blinked twice from the corner of her eye, and saw that her eyes were moist.

Judd Martin had no choice but to take out two penny coins from his pocket and put them on the waitress's tray: "Okay, okay, take this money, go back and buy yourself something you like." There's also some bacon and ham in the kitchen, and you can cut and eat a little when you're done. ”

The waitress burst into tears and smiled, and she kissed Martin's side cheek, and the bitter expression on her face was no longer visible: "Thank you, uncle." ”

Martin watched his niece walk towards the kitchen with light steps, and couldn't help but scratch his side face and complained: "The girls nowadays are too shrewd. Whoever marries my niece will be able to spend a shilling on her. ”

He was about to return to the counter to continue his business, but halfway through, he seemed to remember something, and Martin hurriedly shouted into the kitchen, "Annie! Just cut the ham into two fingers at most, and the girl's family shouldn't eat too much of that! ”

As soon as Martin's words fell, suddenly, he heard the sound of the tavern's shutter door being pushed open.

Martin looked up and saw that they were three or four muscular men in short-sleeved shirts, and judging by the lumpy muscles and tendons on their arms and their deformed ears, they were definitely not easy to mess with.

And most importantly, Mr. Martin also saw through the gap between the strong men and the brawny men standing shoulder to shoulder, the crowds of young brothers outside the tavern with all kinds of bright knives.

Mr. Martin hurriedly took out two tickets from under the counter, and after pondering for a moment, he still did not hand over the money immediately, but greeted them with a smile first, and asked tentatively.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I wonder what you want to drink today? Our ......"

Before he could finish his sentence, he sat down on the stool in front of the counter and pinched Mr. Martin's face with his calloused palm.

"Martin, you don't know me anymore?"

Mr. Martin looked at the other man carefully, and hurriedly bared his teeth and squeezed out a smile that was more ugly than crying.

"It turned out to be Mr. Fred's right-hand man, Mr. 'Hammer' Ward. Didn't you hear Mr. Fred say that? My opening of a shop in Whitechapel has been approved by him. ”

"Fred?"

Ward smiled, he let go of Martin's jaw, and said, "Martin, can you please not always mention the name of a dead man?" He probably doesn't know which fish is lying in the belly at this point, and if you want to seek his protection, I can throw you into the sea.

By the way, one more word to inform you, I will have the final say in the affairs of Whitechapel in the future. If you want to get along, you'd better show me a little respect and sincerity. ”

When Martin heard this, he knew that he couldn't hide today.

He hurriedly took out the two tickets that had been prepared a long time ago, nodded and said, "Since this is the case, a little courtesy is not a respect." ”

Ward looked down at the ticket, and the corners of his mouth jerked: "Two? ”

As soon as the words fell, before Martin could answer, he heard the sound of pulling out a gun and opening the safe.

A few strong men behind Ward pointed their guns at the stunned guests in the tavern one by one, glared and shouted, "Look at anything, get out of here!" ”

Ward put a gun to Martin's chin and said, "Martin, you have to be glad that I didn't come to you today. So I can forgive you for your first rudeness. Tell me, where is Fiona? That stinky bitch asked me to meet here, saying she was going to compete with me, so you shouldn't be involved in her business, right? ”

"No, of course not." Martin raised his hands and sweated on his cheeks, "So Miss Ivan is talking about you?" She...... She asked me to hand you a letter. ”

"A letter? Hahaha! Ward put away his pistol and raised his eyebrows and whistled, "Is that stinky bitch trying to pour out her love for me?" ”

Trembling, Martin pulled the letter from under the table and handed it over with both respectful hands.

Ward opened the letter nonchalantly, he pulled out the letterhead, looked at the front, and then at the back.

However, there was a blank space on both sides, and nothing was written on it.

A feeling of unhappiness rose in Ward's heart, and he hurriedly jumped off the barstool and shouted at the guys behind him.

"Something is wrong, we need to go back quickly!"

The group hurriedly went out.

Ward looked up at the horizon, where the sun had set and a crescent moon was rising.

The glow of the moonlight shone on Ward's face, revealing beads of sweat and a look of surprise on his face.

The streets of the brick alley were deserted, and not even the slightest sound could be heard.

In the hazy moonlight, he could only see a few pairs of crimson eyes standing on the rooftops by the roadside, the ravens that had flown here from the Tower of London, and no one could smell death more than these little creatures.

Ward felt a chill run down his spine, beads of sweat wetting his shirt and clinging to his back.

"Go back!"

However, as soon as he said this, he heard a thud, and Mr. Martin's tavern closed the door just in time, leaving Ward with only a rickety sign hanging on the door, which read 'Close' crookedly.

Martin's Tavern is closed from now on.

From street to street, the lights in each house went out one after another, and the light receded like a tidal wave, replaced by the uniform footsteps of the streets, bowler hats, black tuxedos, hard high-top riding boots that splashed in the sewage, spotless white gloves, police knives that swung with their pace, and faces that could not be seen in the shadows.

Among the countless hazy faces, Ward could only see a red dot that flickered and dimmed.

The red dot suddenly went out, and in the moonlight, Ward saw a white glove sticking out in front of him, followed by an impossibly calm voice.

"Meet Claydon Jones, the new sergeant of the Whitechapel Parish Branch of the London Metropolitan Police Force."

Ward glanced at the white glove in front of him, and then at the shadow behind the glove, which were a pair of black hole 'eyes', very round, so they must be very deadly.

Ward gave an ugly smile as he held back his body from trembling and slowly reached out to hold the white gloves.

Unexpectedly, at the moment when he was about to touch the glove, a slap had already been thrown into his face.

Syllable!

Maybe it was because of his weak heart, or maybe it was because of fear, the strong Ward was slapped to the ground.

However, before his dizzy head could recover from it, he felt something step on the side of his face.

He slowly raised his head, and finally saw the face in front of him, which had some blood scabs on its forehead and some bloodshot left eye, but this face, which looked slightly funny, looked so dangerous against the background of the moonlight.

Jones stepped on his head, leaned over and asked, "Do you still know me?" ”

Ward looked at Jones, his pupils narrowing, and he finally remembered who the new sheriff of Whitechapel District really was.

Ward swallowed and grinned, "Brother Jones, that's all in the past. The one who was going to hit you was raised by that bitch Fred, and we were just doing his bidding. You must not take it to heart. ”

Jones nodded slightly, and behind him, red-eyed ravens flew up in flocks.

"You're right, there's a clear distinction between public and private. So, I also hope that you don't take it to heart today, because ...... I'm just carrying out orders, too. ”

Gunshots rang out outside the window, and on the second floor of the beer hall, there was a private room.

At the small round table against the window sat a young man with black hair.

He was holding two teapots and making drinks with great interest.

In the teapot, one contains soft milk and the other bitter coffee, and when the two are carefully blended in a one-to-one ratio, they merge into a delicate and beautiful gray.

The Red Devil leaned against the window, his face illuminated by the occasional firelight, his mouth full of sharp silver teeth, and drooling down the corners of his lips.

"Arthur, you've grown up. You're finally starting to taste coffee, and it's a full-bodied, creamy taste that is not comparable to the monotonous, immature milky taste. ”

Arthur didn't answer when he heard the Red Devil's words, he just took a sip from his teacup.

The coffee was so bitter that he didn't know how to swallow it without the milk to temper it.

He glanced condescendingly at Jones, who shot Ward in the leg.

The Red Devil laughed as he whispered beside Arthur, "Arthur, you were right to spare him a life, Tom and Tony can't do such a thing." ”

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door outside.

The door was gently pushed open, and Mr. Martin stood there nervously with a tray.

Sweat was dripping from the corners of his face, but he smiled and complimented, "Mr. Hastings, I'll bring you ham." ”

(End of chapter)