After the Fall of the Demon Race, Reincarnated as a Demon Girl - Chapter 37

Just then, the guy who had been dragged down by Colth at the entrance earlier came scrambling in, stumbling and crawling.

He opened his mouth to speak but suddenly met the fierce, piercing gaze of the scar-faced gentleman.

Those eyes were like two sharp blades, stabbing straight into his heart, instantly making him wilt like frostbitten eggplant.

He knew all too well that whether Colth’s news was true or false, he had made a grave mistake—failing at his job and allowing Colth to break through the door so easily.

“Is what you’re saying true?”

The scar-faced man fixed his intense stare on Colth, his voice low as he inquired.

“I swear on my life!”

Colth met the scar-faced man’s gaze without flinching, his expression resolute.

The scar-faced man narrowed his eyes slightly, giving Colth a thorough once-over, and couldn’t help but view him with greater respect.

After a moment of silence, he nodded thoughtfully, as if he had come to understand something, then decisively ordered:

“All men, stop dawdling! Gather the essential supplies and prepare to evacuate! We can’t let those damned bastards succeed!”

Upon receiving the order, the gang members sprang into action.

All the customers were ushered out through the back door without exception.

The gang members swiftly packed their belongings and then slipped away through a hidden passage, vanishing into the vast darkness of the night as if they had never been there.

By the time the raiding force stormed into the gang’s hideout, all that greeted them was a room in utter disarray.

The gang members had long since disappeared without a trace, leaving behind only a deathly stillness.

The captain of the gendarmerie scowled, his eyes sweeping over the chaotic scene on the floor—

Chips scattered everywhere, disorderly like leaves ravaged by a fierce wind; broken wine barrels oozed liquor, pooling into dark puddles on the ground; and tables knocked askew, resembling disarmed soldiers after a defeat, utterly disheveled.

His brow furrowed, his lips twitching slightly, he ground out a few words through clenched teeth, his tone filled with anger and frustration:

“These cunning rats, faster than rabbits!”

The secrecy surrounding this operation had been tight. All the gang moles planted within the police department had been rooted out, not a single one left. Everyone in the know had kept their mouths shut, not a whisper leaked.

Yet even so, the operation had failed.

“The only reason is you lot of useless fools! Slow as snails, you alerted those rats, letting them slip away early!”

After delivering his reprimand, the captain’s anger still simmered. His sharp gaze swept toward the nearby back door, and with a forceful wave of his hand, he barked out an order:

“Send men to chase from the back door! We can’t let them escape so easily!”

Meanwhile, Colth and the gang members were fleeing in panic.

They groped their way through the darkness, finally reaching a deep, shadowy alley.

The scar-faced leader skillfully moved aside a manhole cover, revealing the entrance to the sewer below.

This seemingly filthy sewer was, in fact, the gang’s carefully prepared secondary hideout.

It turned out that to prevent their main bases from being wiped out, the leaders of the gang’s various districts had all prepared second, even third, hideouts. Only those truly trusted knew the locations of these alternate bases.

This particular hideout was the scar-faced man’s work. He had brought men here early on to excavate and transform the sewer into a temporary base.

Now, quite a number of people had gathered underground. They were all those who had been discovered by the police and guards, then led here through the chaos, escaping via the sewer.

Colth felt the nauseating stench of decay from the sewer assault his nostrils. The odor was like countless invisible insects desperately burrowing into his nose; every breath felt like swallowing filth.

But at this moment, he had no other choice.

Frowning in disgust, he could only steel himself, pinch his nose shut, and grip the slimy grime coating the ladder rungs. Ignoring the filth, he gritted his teeth and followed the others, climbing step by difficult step deeper inside.

Finally, he grabbed onto a rope and, driven by the instinct to survive, groped his way forward through the pitch-black tunnel.

Surrounded by utter darkness, he could only crouch low, moving his feet cautiously, afraid of bumping into any obstacle and making a sound.

Suddenly, a faint glimmer of light appeared ahead. At the same time, he sensed the space around him seemed to widen, the oppressive feeling gradually dissipating.

Colth slowly straightened up, no longer needing to hunch over, and quickened his pace slightly toward that glimmer of light.

“So it’s this spacious down here.”

Entering this hidden underground space, his eyes fell upon a mountain of piled-up firearms.

These old, long-obsolete weapons, though somewhat worn, still emitted a dangerous aura, and each one was quite valuable.

This arsenal represented the entire assets of the local gang, their capital for confronting the city.

“You’ve done an excellent job.”

The scar-faced leader tilted his chin up slightly, his metal cane emitting a cold gleam as it rhythmically tapped the ground with dull thuds.

Instantly, everyone stopped what they were doing, their gazes collectively focusing on Colth and the scar-faced leader.

“Colth.”

Colth took a deep breath and calmly stated his name.

“Very well, Colth.”

The scar-faced leader narrowed his eyes slightly, a hint of appreciation in his gaze.

“You’ve essentially saved the lives of most everyone in the casino.”

With that, his gaze suddenly shifted, sharp as blades, landing on the bald man who had been responsible for guarding the door earlier.

“Clarosa.”

The scar-faced leader’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an undeniable authority.

Hearing his name, the bald Clarosa shuddered violently, his face instantly covered in terror.

He dropped to his knees with a thud, not hesitating for a moment, his knees hitting the hard ground without regard for its filth or any sharp debris.

In the gang’s code, making a mistake meant accepting punishment—an iron rule, allowing no room for negotiation.

The scar-faced leader looked coldly at Clarosa kneeling on the ground, his tone calm yet chilling:

“Keep it quiet… one arm.”

As soon as the leader finished speaking, Clarosa was dragged away. Amidst muffled sobs, Colth heard the sound of an arm being severed.

“Alright, a minor punishment dealt. Now, let’s talk business. Colth, why did you help us?”

The leader’s gaze settled on Colth. The earlier sounds still echoed in Colth’s ears when suddenly the scene shifted—the person standing before him wasn’t the scar-faced leader, but a blood-soaked, dangerous figure.

Colth felt his throat tighten, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as if trying to break free. He took a deep breath, struggling to calm himself, and forced a few words from his dry throat:

“I want to join you.”

The leader raised an eyebrow slightly, a playful smile curling at the corner of his mouth:

“Why?”

Colth’s hands unconsciously clenched the hem of his shirt, his knuckles turning white from the force. He gritted his teeth, his voice trembling slightly:

“I want to survive.”

“Oh?”

A flicker of surprise passed through the scar-faced leader’s eyes, quickly replaced by intense interest. He took a few slow steps forward, each one feeling like it trod on Colth’s heart.

“Tell me, what do you mean by ‘survive’?”

Colth held nothing back. He knew all too well that in front of these hardened gangsters who lived by the blade, any concealment could mean death.

Within this gang, people like him weren’t rare at all. In fact, most had clawed their way up from the bottom rungs of society.

Most of them were homeless drifters, scraping by in the dark alleys and streets until noticed by a gang boss, finding a sliver of refuge within this vortex of crime.

The gang bosses naturally had their own calculations. They engaged in all sorts of illicit activities—smuggling, drug trafficking, extortion… nothing was off-limits.

Compared to others, these “saved” drifters were clearly more loyal. The dirty work that couldn’t be done openly by those higher up was handled by people like them; infiltration of the police, obtaining confidential intelligence—all entrusted to them to execute.

They were like rats living in the shadows. Though they couldn’t see the light, it was their only way to survive in this cruel world.

“Welcome, kid.”

He gave Colth another appraising look, noting his tall, sturdy build and the sharp intelligence in his eyes, then waved a hand.

“The doorman’s useless now. We’re short a doorman. You seem sharp and capable enough—start as the doorman.”

He was referring to Clarosa, who had just lost an arm at the entrance.

Colth quietly sighed in relief. He was about to voice his thanks when he suddenly remembered something and mustered the courage to say:

“I have friends who want to join too. They’re like me, people with nowhere else to turn.”

The leader narrowed his eyes and spoke slowly:

“They’ll need to pass screening. Not just anyone can get in.”

He paused, then added:

“But tonight we have important business. We’ll talk about that later.”

The gang always paid back debts. These damned gendarmerie, guards, and police had suddenly struck, catching them off guard, forcing them to flee disheveled.

If they just holed up here without striking back, they’d be looked down upon by bosses from other districts, losing all standing in this underworld.

“Some of you come with me to draw their fire. The rest, prepare to counterattack!”

At the leader’s command, the atmosphere in the room instantly tensed. Gang members sprang into action, stepping forward to select weapons, inspecting them with practiced ease.

Colth didn’t know what to do. A brother nearby shoved a pistol into his hands and showed him how to use it.

“This is much handier than a musket. It’s newly acquired stock, perfect for a rookie like you.”

“You’re new. Stay with the other newcomers and keep watch here.”

The scar-faced leader glanced at Colth, indicating he didn’t need to join the fight. The gang in this area hadn’t yet reached the point of sending fresh recruits to the battlefield.

Out on the streets, the raiding force was searching for traces of the gang. They were too good at running, vanishing in an instant.

Then, a roar erupted from the dim space:

“Go!”

With a furious shout, the leader charged out first. The brothers behind him desperately followed the scar-faced man’s lead, their guns spewing angry flames continuously.