The scent of blood in the alley was washed away by the rain, mingling with the stench of mud and refuse as it drilled into the nostrils.
Lacey stared at the three still-warm corpses on the ground, his brow tightly furrowed.
These assassins were decisive, their coordination seamless, and their skills considerable—far from the sort of thugs that common ruffians could hire.
"Was it those two?" Serafina asked softly, dabbing the rain from her temples with a handkerchief. Her face looked somewhat pale in the moonlight.
Lacey shook his head. He knelt down and began searching the body of the assassin leader he had killed with a single blow.
He found no crests or tokens on the body that could prove his identity, only some standard-issue weapons and loose change.
Lacey thought of the count's son he had offended before; it was that man who had instructed Bach.
But from the time he revealed his identity to Bach's execution, barely half a month had passed. To dispatch professional assassins so quickly and locate him so accurately... the efficiency was too high. It didn't seem like the handiwork of the lords upstairs.
"You mean, someone else has their eyes on us?" Serafina immediately understood Lacey's meaning.
"We're like a torch in the dead of night right now." Lacey stood up, his gaze sweeping over the dilapidated eaves of the slums, silent in the darkness.
"It will always attract some uninvited guests. Some are moths wanting to extinguish the flame, while others are night travelers wanting to use the light to see the path."
He looked at Serafina: "Therefore, we need a pair of eyes that can distinguish the moths from the night travelers."
Serafina understood perfectly, nodding with a smile: "It would be my honor."
...
Over the next week, Serafina became the most popular person in the slums.
She still carried her basket every day, distributing medicine and bread. But what was different was that she was always surrounded by a crowd of people who wanted to join Lacey's group.
Lacey set up a temporary recruitment point in an abandoned warehouse in the slums. Anyone who wanted to join had to first pass an interview with Serafina.
To an outsider, this interview process seemed rather comical.
Serafina simply chatted amiably with each person, asking them why they wanted to join, how many people were in their family, and what they did for a living.
Her smile was warm and friendly, making people unconsciously lower their guard.
A large, burly man slapped his chest and boasted with flying spittle about his bravery on the battlefield, claiming he could take on ten men by himself.
Serafina just listened with a smile, then silently drew a circle on his application form and noted two words beside it: "Cowardly."
There was also an honest-looking young man who said he wanted to join to fight for a better life for the poor.
Serafina, however, drew a cross on his form.
When Lacey later asked her why, she said, suppressing a laugh, "All he's thinking about is how to use us to get revenge on the neighbor who stole his wife."
Serafina pouted: "His passion extends only as far as his neighbor's wall."
Just like that, before Serafina, this human lie detector, all pretenses were laid bare.
Those with ulterior motives, impure intentions, or who were simply looking for a free meal were all quietly sifted out by her.
Of course, there were also moments that moved her.
The blacksmith Lacey had mentioned in his earlier speech came with his son.
The blacksmith's palms were as rough as sandpaper. He said clumsily, "I... I'm not good with words, but what Mr. Lacey said, it all spoke right to my heart."
"My life is what it is, but I don't want my son to end up like this."
Serafina "saw" the most simple and sincere hope surging in this man's heart.
She solemnly drew a circle next to the blacksmith's name.
A week later, after the screening, more than three hundred steadfast core followers had gathered around Lacey.
It was then that Serafina discovered a real mole.
He was a sharp-looking man who claimed to be a merchant from a neighboring city. He said his caravan had been forcibly conscripted by a noble, leading to his bankruptcy, and that he hated the current system to the bone.
There were no flaws in his story, but in Serafina's eyes, she saw no intense resentment. The man's emotions were as calm as a stagnant pond, without a single ripple.
For someone who had just gone bankrupt and was at his wit's end, this was far too abnormal.
Serafina told Lacey about it. That night, the man was caught red-handed trying to eavesdrop on a meeting between Lacey and his core members.
Faced with the evidence and witnesses, he finally broke down and confessed that he was a spy sent by Count Leinia, tasked with finding out Lacey's background and plans.
The crowd was incensed, shouting for the traitor to be executed.
But Lacey waved his hand, signaling for everyone to be quiet.
He walked up to the spy, who was trembling with fear, and even managed a slight smile.
"There's nothing we're doing that can't be told to others. You can go back and tell that count that in three days, we will establish our organization in the slums. He is welcome to come and observe."
With that, Lacey let the spy go.
Three days later, on a makeshift high platform in the slums of Salem, Lacey stood with three hundred solemn-faced core members behind him.
Below the stage, thousands of slum residents had gathered, their eyes filled with anticipation and longing.
Lacey could clearly feel invisible waves of power converging on him from the crowd below.
He cleared his throat. He used no amplification device, yet his voice carried clearly to the ears of everyone present.
"My brothers and sisters, my compatriots!"
"Before I stand here, I want to ask you a question, who are we?"
"We are the farmers who wake before dawn to toil in the fields, yet cannot even feed ourselves!"
"We are the miners who descend into the pits every day to dig ore, yet live in cellars where the sun never shines!"
"We are the workers who repeat the same motion tens of thousands of times in factories every day, our fingers worn raw, our backs bent, yet cannot afford a single decent piece of clothing!"
"We are the parents who sent our sons to the battlefield to defend this country, only to receive a cold gravestone in return!"
"We are the foundation of Leithanien! The flesh and blood of this nation! But what do those high and mighty nobles see us as?"
"They see us as ants to be crushed at will, as livestock to be exploited without end!"
His voice grew more and more passionate. The crowd below was deeply moved by his words; many shed tears and clenched their fists.
"Today, we gather here to tell them—we are not ants, not livestock! We are human!"
"From this day forward, we will have an organization of our own! Its name is the 'Leithanien Workers' Party'!"
Lacey waved his arm dramatically, and a massive banner unfurled behind him. On it, written in the most conspicuous red pigment, were dozens of lines of large characters—the party's platform.
"We will unite all forces that can be united and overthrow the mountains pressing down on us! We will take back everything that belongs to us!"
"I promise you!" Lacey pointed to every person below the stage, "The Workers' Party will lead everyone, so that every person can afford bread and drink milk!"
"So that every child can walk into a bright classroom! So that every elderly person can live out their twilight years in peace!"
"And I promise you this!"
"In the War of the Four Emperors, our Leithanien soldiers shed the most blood and made the greatest sacrifices! But what did we get in the end? A few dilapidated mobile cities! While the real prize was divided up by the jackals of Ursus and Victoria!"
"This debt, we will settle sooner or later! The glory that was stolen, we will take back with our own hands! The interests that were seized, we will reclaim twofold!"
He raised his hand high.
"Long live Leithanien!"
"Long live the Workers' Party!"
"Long live victory!"
BOOM!
A thunderous cheer erupted from below the stage as thousands of people roared along with him.
"Long live victory!"
"Long live victory!"
In a corner of the crowd, Serafina quietly watched the man on the stage, radiant as the sun.
In her world of perception, Lacey was like a sun at that moment. Countless points of light representing "hope," "faith," and "anger" converged from all directions, enveloping him and causing him to emit an unprecedented, dazzling brilliance.
________________________________________
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