Gun of Ashes

Chapter 332: Chapter 18: City of Miracles

Perhaps, this is what the so-called wheel of fortune turning means.

In the era when the Evangelical Church was at its most glorious, Florence was a dream city that everyone longed for.

Some said it was filled with devout priests, voices of prayer never ceasing day or night; others said countless kingdoms worshipped the Church, the Medici’s treasure vault gathering half of the Western world’s wealth; yet others believed it had gates leading to the Celestial Kingdom, fiercely guarded by the Holy Hall Knights.

Countless people spoke, countless stories, countless wishes and greed. It seemed there, like God’s incarnation on earth, all wishes would be fulfilled upon arrival.

Lorenzo once never understood people’s extreme yearning for a place, but when he truly arrived at Old Dunling, he understood much more.

People have certain obsessions, but they are often hard to achieve; no matter how hard you struggle, you are just teetering on the edge of failure.

It is truly despairing, a helpless despair.

But no one could accept that. They needed a hopeful goal. A few hundred years ago, it was Florence; now, it is Old Dunling. They yearn for this miraculous city, as if within this miracle, they could find a path to fulfill that obsession.

Thinking of this, Lorenzo couldn’t help but laugh. After all, he was also a smuggler. So much time had passed that he almost couldn’t remember how long he had wandered the seas, under the harsh sun and stormy rains. Perhaps it was too brutal, making those memories somewhat blurry.

He once thought he would die at sea before the great Captain Holmes even started his plundering career, ending up as fish fodder.

But perhaps because he also had an obsession, Lorenzo survived. When he awoke, he was floating in shallow seawater, with Old Dunling right in front of him.

”I wonder if those smugglers will feel despair upon seeing the real Old Dunling.”

Pres gazed at the grey silhouette of Old Dunling, where steam technology transcended human understanding, and colossal entities moved through the sky amidst the mist, as if it were another world.

Old Dunling indeed had miracles, but not everyone could obtain them. Pres was also one of those who came for the miracle but ended up as a mere petty detective. All desires and ideals became cheap, and now it’s just about settling down in retirement.

This is a merciless city that would extinguish all your reason and passion, finally losing oneself within its complex gears.

Those smugglers are like pilgrims, striving by every means to come, only to see the glaring miracle without glimpsing the amassed white bones beneath the prosperity.

”Aren’t you going home to sleep?” Lorenzo asked.

”Do you think I could leave someone like you to handle a case alone?” Pres said.

Lorenzo looked at Pres’s dark circles.

”To be honest, you should be more trusting of people.”

”You?” Pres responded as if hearing a joke.

”Alright, Mr. Holmes, I must admit you’re indeed... exceptionally gifted in some aspects.” Pres said, ”But trusting you? No way. It’s like letting a criminal go, thinking he’d surely return after breakfast.”

Lorenzo frowned, thought for a moment, and earnestly replied, ”That’s actually something I might do.”

”Would you come back?”

”What if?”

Chatting as they walked out of Suyalan Hall, due to insufficient police resources, they had no carriage this time and seemed to have to rely on their feet to move forward.

”A cargo ship from Florence, those smugglers hid in the containers. They hid well; if it weren’t for the mission’s visit increasing alertness, they might have slipped through.” Pres said.

”You couldn’t catch them?”

”They were very agile, escaped the docks under the cover of night, and the mounted police chased them till they lost track... Actually, this case isn’t that important. Such smuggling happens daily. We find one case, perhaps ten slip past our watch.”

Lorenzo was stunned as he compared this number in his mind.

”With so many people flowing in, you’re not worried?”

Hearing this, Pres looked at Lorenzo with some disdain. ”Then do you remember where you were on your first day in Old Dunling?”

Where?

This stirred Lorenzo’s memory. He once thought all demons were dead, and coming to Old Dunling was merely for retirement; thus, he cast aside all his past and memories. Once life stabilized, he rarely thought about them.

But after calm came, he met the darkness again. Lorenzo discovered the demons were not extinct, and the Night of the Holy Arrival was merely one of countless conspiracies. His mission was not yet over.

”I remember... Lower City District?” Lorenzo said.

As an outsider without proper documents, he couldn’t get into the Outer City District, let alone deeper areas of Old Dunling. Back then, his plight almost resembled a Dead, with the only place accepting him being the Lower City District, where he met Bola.

”Yes, the Lower City District. It’s indeed a mess, but you have to admit, thanks to its existence, all the garbage is gathered in one place,” Pres answered. ”The vast majority of smugglers end up in the Lower City District, a hellhole they can’t last long in.