activa-t Chapter 13 The Butcher Draws His Knife
Chapter 13 The Butcher Draws His Knife
When Fiona found Finn O'Connor again, he was leaning against a pile of crates that smelled of damp wood, slowly trimming his nails with a knife.
The wind on the dock was stronger than yesterday, and when it hit my face, it felt like countless tiny ice shards, but Finn didn't seem to care at all.
Fiona didn't beat around the bush.
She placed a heavy money bag and a bulging burlap sack directly on the wooden box in front of Finn.
The money bag landed on the wooden board, making a dull, solid sound—the kind only you hear when metal collides with wood.
"My master said that the South District needs some warmth."
Finn stopped what he was doing, and his one eye moved from the money bag to the sack, finally landing on Fiona's face.
He didn't touch those two things rashly, and his eyes showed a hint of detachment.
"This is like pissing in 'Butcher' Jack's' soup bowl. My men are here to make a living on the docks, not to die."
"The soup the 'Butcher' drinks is made from the bones of our fellow Irishmen," Fiona replied quickly without a pause.
"Finn, do you think your Irish Brotherhood just wants to spend their lives smelling fish on the North Wharf and watching their brothers in the South Wharf being treated like livestock by the Bloodhands?"
Her voice wasn't loud, but it still made Finn's one eye shrink sharply.
"My master believes this isn't about stealing business. It's about telling everyone that from this day forward, the rules of the Irish are to be set by the Irish themselves. And you, Finn O'Connor, are the Irishman who sets the rules."
Finn stared at Fiona, the girl who had been like a frightened fawn just a few days ago, but today seemed to have a bloodthirsty lion living inside her.
He remained silent for a long time, so long that the sea breeze filled the space between them.
Finally, he reached out his rough hand, across the money bag, and directly untied the burlap sack.
Sure enough, a rich and invigorating aroma, mixed with the scent of herbs and tea, wafted out instantly.
This scent is power, it's spirit, and it's a magic potion that makes your brothers willing to risk their lives for you.
Finn grabbed the money bag and weighed its substantial weight in his hand.
He raised his head, his single eye gleaming with ambition and determination.
"Kieran! Rory!"
He shouted towards the distance.
Two burly men immediately ran over.
One had a scar on his face, the other had fierce eyes.
Finn tossed the money bag to one of them, pointing to the sack.
"Change into tattered clothes and go to the South District. Give this stuff to the brothers for free. Remember, it's free."
"If the 'Bloody Hand Gang' comes, don't fight them head-on. Make sure you see their faces clearly, and then go to this address."
Finn lowered his voice and gave the location of Levi's warehouse, "Tell that Mr. Dongfang that we have delivered his goods."
……
And so the war began.
An hour later, in the most chaotic "Stinky Fish Alley" in the South District.
The alleyway was slippery mud, mixed with the smell of fish entrails and cheap gin, and there were dilapidated wooden houses on both sides.
Kieran and Rory set up a simple wooden barrel with a small pile of charcoal burning underneath, keeping the tea inside steaming.
At first, no one dared to approach.
The poor people in the alley, the dockworkers, the washerwomen, and a few prostitutes with vacant eyes all stood at a distance, looking at the two strangers with suspicion.
In the South District, free things are often more deadly than expensive ones.
"Hey, have a taste! Warm up!" Kieran called out in his heavily Irish-accented English, forcing what he thought was a friendly smile.
An old man wrapped in a tattered shawl huddled in a corner, asking warily, "What is it? Which damned tax collector has come up with this new trick now?"
"Father, the tax collectors are reluctant to give away such good things."
Kieran scooped up a spoonful of the dark brown tea, its enticing aroma wafting in the wind. "An invigorating tonic from the East! One sip, and I guarantee you'll earn an extra three pence carrying sacks today!"
Rory remained silent, only scanning his surroundings with his fierce gaze to prevent anyone from causing trouble.
A young sailor, who had just unloaded cargo from the ship and was covered in sweat, was attracted by the aroma and mustered up his courage to walk over.
He looked at Kieran, then at Rory, and asked hesitantly, "Really...it's free?"
"It's free today." Kieran handed over a wooden cup and patted his face.
"Consider this a small token of our appreciation from the brothers in the North to our friends in the South. Give it a try, and if you don't like it, you can spit it in my face."
The young sailor took the wooden cup with some skepticism, blew on it to cool it down, and cautiously took a small sip.
A spicy yet sweet warm current instantly slid from my throat into my stomach, then dissipated, surging throughout my limbs and bones.
His muscles, which had been aching from overwork, seemed to have eased considerably.
The young sailor's eyes widened, and he drank the soup in his cup in one gulp, exhaling a puff of white air with satisfaction.
"My God... this is even stronger than Blackjack's spoiled rum!"
His shout became the best GG.
The crowd, which had been observing, suddenly became agitated.
"Give me a drink too!"
"And me!"
People flocked to it, carrying old wooden cups, chipped ceramic bowls, and some even held them directly in their hands.
Kieran and Rory were so busy that the soup in the tea barrel was visibly decreasing.
The alley was no longer lifeless, but filled with exclamations of amazement and satisfaction.
This brief moment of liveliness and warmth brought a touch of human life to this perpetually gloomy alley.
However, this moment of warmth was quickly shattered.
Three burly men strode over.
They all wore a blood-red handkerchief around their necks, the symbol of the "Bloody Hands Gang".
The leader had a hideous scar on his face, stretching from his brow bone to the corner of his mouth.
Without saying a word, he kicked over the tea barrel.
The scalding hot tea was spilled all over the ground, and the crowd screamed and scattered.
Rory instinctively reached for the short stick at his waist, but Kieran grabbed him and held him down.
"Don't do it!" Kieran growled.
The Blood Hand Gang didn't give them a chance to react.
Scarface delivered a powerful punch, slamming it into Rory's face.
Rory's nose broke on the spot, and blood gushed out along with his screams.
The other two rushed up and started kicking the fallen Rory repeatedly.
Scarface walked up to Kieran, who was pale with fright, and patted his face.
"Go back and tell your North District boss."
"Only butchers can do business in the South District."
"If you dare to extend your claws again, next time it won't be as simple as breaking a nose."
Having said that, they rode off like three victorious bulls, leaving behind a mess and a lorry groaning in pain.
Kieran helped his blood-covered companion to his feet, and he memorized that scarred face.
Instead of returning to the North District, he helped Rory up and limped toward the warehouse address given to him by their boss, Finn.