Night had fallen over the British Concession, where dim yellow streetlights cast hazy halos along the streets.
Five patrolmen in black uniforms were listlessly patrolling the streets.
Their leader yawned and rubbed his eyes, his face etched with impatience. "Ugh, these damned foreigners! The inspector had to drag us out to patrol in the middle of the night because of them! I was sleeping soundly at my woman’s place!"
A lanky patrolman beside him chimed in with his own complaint. "Tell me about it! I heard some big shot from Great Britain showed up at the Consulate—a representative for the Empress, some Count or other..."
"Tsk. Those Westerners really think they’re something special. They show up for one visit, and we’re the ones who have to pull an all-nighter."
Another short, stout patrolman hunched his shoulders and whispered, "Just drop it. It’s just our bad luck. A few people went missing a couple of days ago, and the chief inspector has already sent word down. We’re to keep our wits about us and, whatever we do, not disturb those Westerners."
A younger patrolman couldn’t help but scoff. "Hmph. It’s a classic case of the thief crying ’stop thief’! I suspect those foreign devils are the real murderers! These Western barbarians look like ghouls. For all we know, they might even be eating people in secret!"
The man next to him quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. "Hey, hey! Zhou Penghui, don’t spout such nonsense! It’s the middle of the night; talking like that is creepy as hell!"
Zhou Penghui shoved his hand away, his face filled with indignation. "What nonsense? I saw it with my own two eyes! One of the missing people walked right into that Consulate!"
"A few days later, word gets out that he’s vanished! If they didn’t do it, who did?"
But this time, no one answered him.
After a few moments of silence, the oldest patrolman sighed and waved a dismissive hand. "All right, all right. Why get so worked up? When the sky falls, it’s not our job to hold it up."
"In the Concession, these Westerners are the local emperors. Forget a few people going missing—they could snatch someone right off the street and no one would dare do a thing."
Zhou Penghui sighed too, his voice trailing off. "Human life is worthless... In times like these, we’re worse off than dogs. We just have to take it one day at a time."
"I just don’t know how much longer the people of this land will have to suffer. If only we could drive out these high-and-mighty Westerners..."
He paused, then added bitterly, "And, of course, the bastards in charge above them."
"Enough, enough! Stop talking. Do you have a death wish?"
The older patrolman cut him off. "What’s the use of saying all that? Come on. We’ll make a few more rounds up ahead, then head back and check in."
As the men continued on their way, a dark purple wooden cane suddenly jutted out from around a street corner.
Following it, a figure emerged slowly from the shadows, coming face-to-face with the five patrolmen.
"Whoa! Who’s there? You scared me to death!"
The five of them scrambled back in unison, nearly tripping and falling.
Once they got a clear look at the person, they breathed a collective sigh of relief. Patting their chests, they started muttering and cursing. "You scared the hell out of me! It’s just an old man!"
"Seriously! Who did he think he was, running around scaring people in the middle of the night instead of sleeping!"
"If I wasn’t on duty right now, I’d beat the hell out of you!"
Muttering curses, the five men walked past him and disappeared into the night.
Lu Yun paid them no mind, continuing on his way toward the Great Britain Consulate.
On the top floor of the Great Britain Consulate, a heavy, carved wooden door at the end of the hall was shut tight.
Warm yellow light seeped from under the door, and the faint sound of soothing Western music could be heard from within. Beyond the door, of course, was an exceptionally luxurious dining room.
A soft, crimson carpet covered the floor, several oil paintings hung on the walls, and a long dining table stood in the center of the room.
A snow-white tablecloth draped to the floor, set with silver candelabras. The silverware, polished to a mirror shine, was arranged neatly beside pristine white napkins.
Several exquisite meat dishes were also laid out, including an enormous leg of meat, roasted to a glistening, golden-brown, and placed in the center of a white porcelain platter, surrounded by fragrant, browned potatoes and carrots.
The leg of meat was astonishingly thick—at least ten times larger than a typical turkey leg. It looked more like the thigh of an ostrich.
Next to it was a steak, seared to perfection and garnished with a few herbs. The grain of the meat was clearly visible, its juices plentiful, and the cross-section revealed a tempting shade of pink.
There was a large bowl of thick, steaming mushroom soup, filled with chunks of meat that had been cut into perfect cubes.
Piled on another plate were crispy, golden-brown morsels of meat, fried to be perfectly crisp on the outside and tender on the inside.
Everything was arranged perfectly, as if for a romantic dinner for two.
Yet only one person sat at the table. It was Count Thorne, seated at the head of the long table. The steak on his plate was already half-eaten.
Standing beside Count Thorne was a middle-aged man in a suit.
Suddenly, Count Thorne paused, knife in hand. He tilted his head slightly, glancing toward an iron cage in the corner of the room, which was draped with a red cloth.
"These worthless things... If they make another sound, just kill them."
"Do you understand, my dear Consul Edward Henry Hannibal?"
Upon hearing this, Consul Hannibal shuddered and bowed deeply. "Yes, my Lord Count!"
With that, he walked briskly to the iron cage and yanked off the red cloth.
Huddled inside the cage were three men. They cowered together in terror, their limbs bound by heavy iron chains, leaving them completely unable to move.

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