"Is Old Dunling always this cold?"

Anthony stood at the dock. They had arrived much earlier than expected, so the empty, silent dock had only a few people present. Some were waiting in advance, but the one truly welcoming them, Arthur, was still on the way.

"Yes, the Furnace Pillar emits thick steam every day, mixing fog and burning debris, shrouding this city in a hazy gray mist. Even when winter has gone, the damp chill remains biting."

Someone came over; they had been waiting here for a long time.

"Hello, guests from Florence."

Bola extended his hand and greeted Anthony in a friendly manner.

Anthony's expression didn't change much. He looked at the man before him and immediately extended his hand as well to introduce himself.

"Anthony Russo."

"You can call me Bola."

Bola responded politely as well, but his expression was not quite normal as he hated this job.

This job originally wasn't for him, but considering this was the first formal interaction between two organizations, Arthur sent Bola, implying that since Bola had been mixing in the Lower City District for so long, he was smoother socially than anyone else. His ability to speak according to the audience made this job perfect for him.

"You came earlier than expected; Arthur is still on the way," Bola explained.

"Arthur? Bola?" Anthony seemed unconcerned, but meaningfully repeated their names, the centipede-like scar on his cheek slowly squirming with his mutter.

"These are your internal codenames, right?" Anthony asked.

Bola nodded, affirming the statement. After all, it was obvious at first glance, not really a secret, and having some conversation is good. He couldn't just stand idly in the cold wind with this priest until Arthur arrived, right? Otherwise, it would be too awkward.

"From the ancient knight legend of Ingwig," Bola said.

"I know, I'm somewhat aware of your specific positions and ranks. Arthur manages Old Dunling, while the other knight commanders manage other regional divisions,"

Anthony spoke with familiarity.

"Though it's our first meeting, we've already acquainted like old friends. Like an unseen enemy, he might not threaten you immediately, but you still need to understand him. Unfortunately, we realized it rather late; when we discovered you, we were no longer a match for you."

Anthony's words were calm but powerful, conveying everything bluntly. Bola even had an illusion that the next moment these visitors might clash with him.

Then Bola felt somewhat awkward, as this conversation was completely out of the ordinary. Bola was ready to have a typical exchange about tomorrow's tourist spots, but under these words, Bola was momentarily stunned, not knowing how to respond.

Bola had met many big figures and spoken many falsehoods, but Anthony was different. Bola could clearly feel the man before him was an enemy. However, for now, he had to extinguish his rage for the sake of benefit.

"A city of steel and steam, technology and innovation, full of miracles and gold."

Anthony said, looking toward Old Dunling under the night sky, where giant whales wandered, casting light like a rising sun, constantly approaching the dock, guiding the newcomers.

"This is my first time in Old Dunling. They often say the city's beauty can grant you everything you desire as long as you want it."

Anthony said.

"But the premise is having enough ability, otherwise you'd be like those people in the Lower City District."

Seeing the situation, Bola also put away his smile and spoke coldly.

Anthony didn't say much more, he just gazed at this city under the night, pondering something unknown.

...

Cork Street 121A.

After ending his conversation with the Rat King, Lorenzo returned home; everything was as usual. Mrs. Van Rudd's temper was still fiery, and Hig was helping her tidy the kitchen. Since he quit his hallucinogen addiction, Hig's life was gradually returning to normal.

Sometimes, Lorenzo would also feel that only when he returned here to sleep did he feel like a normal person, enjoying a brief normal life.

Lorenzo sat slouched by the bathtub, holding tweezers and gauze. He was bare-chested, cleaning the wounds on his body. Warm water flowed over him, carrying a tint of red into the drain.

With a demon hunter's physique, many non-fatal injuries would heal swiftly. The only concern was some residues that, if not promptly removed, would grow together with the regenerating flesh.

The wound, which had mostly healed, was roughly ripped open by Lorenzo. Accompanied by a sharp pain, the broken iron shard was extracted, stained with crimson blood, and tossed into a nearby jar.

Humming an out-of-tune melody, Lorenzo recalled today's events. Heracles indeed brought a sufficient surprise; his appearance might offer breakthroughs in the Revelation investigation, but like Heracles mentioned, Lorenzo had his own little schemes.

Lorenzo traded dark knowledge for Heracles's assistance, which was worthwhile, and Heracles was surely aware of it. Now, the only thing Lorenzo needed to consider was when to utilize Heracles.

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