The spacious plaza was bustling with people, noisy and boisterous, each holding their own opinions, chatting and debating.
At the end of the Entresol Level, a majestic, shimmering, and bustling archway stood tall.
Black marble pillars inlaid with gold bars supported an imposing portico, topped with a row of statues—some of beasts, some of dragons, and some of armored warriors—all indistinct and lifelike under the glow of emerald alchemy lamps.
A scrawny middle-aged man, his temples already white, held a sign high and loudly called out in the bustling intersection:
"Zaun's orphans need your help! Cough, cough! We cannot let Hope House fall! Children need homes! Cough, cough!"
"We absolutely cannot... cough, cough! Let... let Piltover laugh at us!"
"I hope everyone contributes their share, those with money, give money, those with strength, give strength. Cough, cough! Please!"
Several people with mechanical augmentations smiled disdainfully as they passed the middle-aged man.
Then, they casually pulled out a silver lun coins from their pockets and dropped it into the middle-aged man's hat.
Although there were only a few, it earned the middle-aged man's ecstatic bows of gratitude.
"Thank you all! You are good people, Zaun will remember your kindness! Janna above! May she bless you with smooth sailing!"
Durin arrived at the intersection of Second Street and Third Street in the north district of the Entresol Level a step ahead of everyone else.
He immediately spotted Slaut, the debtor, in the crowd.
But he did not immediately approach, instead standing a short distance away, quietly observing and repeatedly confirming that this was his target to avoid any misunderstanding.
At the same time, Durin noticed that although the debtor, Slaut, wore a mask, he would cough forcefully several times to relieve himself whenever he spoke or became emotional.
If it was severe, he would cough incessantly.
Could it be... he's a consumptive?
Durin thought to himself.
Too many people in Zaun, due to a lack of professional respirators, inhale excessive smog, leading to lung infections and related diseases.
Therefore, Durin had also considered buying himself a professional respirator.
After all, he valued his health greatly.
After checking that his mask was securely fastened, Durin stepped forward to the middle-aged man and asked, "Are you fundraising?"
"Yes! Cough, cough! Sir, please, have some sympathy! Cough, cough! Hope House needs our support!" The middle-aged man pleaded while coughing.
"Hope House?"
Durin was a little confused.
"You must not be a native Zaunite; it's normal not to know.
Hope House is actually an orphanage, and its origin dates back to the Sun Gates explosion.
Although Piltover and Zaun were separated, it also left many children orphaned overnight.
Cough, cough!"
After coughing, the middle-aged man caught his breath slightly and continued to explain: "The orphanage initially had over two hundred children, funded by families who moved to Piltover and later became family corporations.
However, after more than a hundred years since the orphanage was established, the money in the accounts grew increasingly scarce because no more funds were flowing down from the Upper City.
Cough, cough!"
The middle-aged man explained, "Thanks to Mr. Vander, Zaun's leader, who provided funds these past years, Hope House barely managed to operate.
But recently, another explosion occurred in Piltover, and Vander has been swamped with that matter, with no time to manage Hope House.
Yet, children have fallen ill again these days, urgently needing money for treatment.
Cough, cough!"
Vander, the leader of Zaun, held immense prestige among the grassroots populace.
His status was akin to the retired elders of the Kowloon Walled City in 1990s Hong Kong, responsible for mediating disputes and handling extremely difficult matters.
At the same time, he was also responsible for communicating with the Enforcer's police superintendent in Piltover.
Furthermore, both sides reached an agreement not to interfere with each other.
"What about you? I see you're also ill; don't you need treatment?" Durin pointed to the mask the middle-aged man wore, which had clear bloodstains from coughing, and asked in a deep voice.
"Me?"
The middle-aged man first paused, then forced a smile and said, "I've lived for over forty years, and I'm still a bachelor.
I don't want to carry a heavy oxygen tank every day to breathe for my lungs; I've pretty much lived enough.
Cough, cough—"
"Heh, might as well donate all the money to Hope House now, accumulate some good karma for myself in advance.
Maybe next life I can also be a Piltover native!"
Durin listened in silence, but everyone was struggling at this time, and he had his own difficulties.
After a moment of hesitation, he pulled out the brass badge, a symbol of the Reno Alchemy Workshop, from his pocket and waved it in front of the middle-aged man, saying, "Mr. Slaut, your debt is due.
I am here on behalf of Reno Leo, the creditor, to claim your debt.
You owe him one gold cogwheel, and it's time to return it."
The middle-aged man, referred to as Slaut, immediately stiffened and stammered, "Sir, I... I really can't produce it right now.
I hope you can be more patient.
Cough, cough!"
Just as Durin was about to say something, a burly bald man suddenly appeared from nowhere and rudely shoved Durin aside.
Then he grabbed Slaut's collar and roared menacingly, "You bastard, so you were here!
You made me search for ages!
Damn it, give me back my money!
Don't make me beat you!"
With that, he immediately swung his fist without a word, hitting Slaut hard on the cheek.
"Ah!"
The fierce punch made the scrawny Slaut lose his balance and fall to the ground in a sorry state, letting out a painful cry.
Durin frowned, scrutinizing the unwelcome guest.
The bald man had tattoos wrapped around his neck and wrists, and his mechanical right hand was emitting a sizzling charging sound.
It was unclear if it was a stun baton or a more lethal weapon—or perhaps just a loose connection.
The bald man continued to step forward, throwing another punch at Slaut's cheek, muttering curses: "If you had just stayed home like a good boy, none of this would be happening!"
After speaking, as if to vent his anger, the bald man continued forward and delivered a kick, forcefully striking Slaut's abdomen, making him spit out a mouthful of blood onto his mask.
"Please, be reasonable! Cough, cough, cough!!!"
Slaut gasped with difficulty, his whole body shaking with violent coughs, as if he was about to cough up his lungs, trying to reach out and stop the beating.
But the bald man still disregarded the other's feelings, first taking all the silver lun coins from the hat, then repeatedly searching Slaut's body with both hands, constantly muttering: "Quick! Tell me! Where's your other money? Give it to me!!!"
By the end, he was practically roaring, mercilessly slapping Slaut across the face, making him dizzy and disoriented, trying to force him to hand over the rest of the money.
This behavior made Durin, who was watching from the side, frown deeply.
If this burly man collected all the debt, wouldn't his 4.8 silver lun coins commission just fly away?
That won't do!
He absolutely couldn't let anyone else get ahead of him!
Moreover, the other party's blatant behavior reminded Durin of some of the bullying he had suffered when he first arrived in Zaun, how he himself had pleaded so desperately like Slaut at that time.
Thinking of this, Durin's expression instantly turned cold.
He reached out and pressed the bald man's shoulder, saying coldly, "Brother, your behavior will easily attract Piltover's Enforcer patrol.
Besides, you've already taken the money he had!
What's the difference between what you're doing and forcing him to his death?"
"Who the hell are you? Stop meddling!" The bald man pulled Slaut's collar while impatiently turning around, his eyes contemptuously sizing up Durin.
Suddenly, he looked as if he had just realized something, and said excitedly, "So it's you, kid!
Looks like we can settle both old and new scores today!"
"Hmm?"
Durin was a little confused.
In his memory, he didn't know the other person at all.
When did they form a grudge?
"Looks like you've forgotten.
Last time when the Centipede Gang and the Tiger Claw Gang were brawling, you chopped off one of my brother's ears!" The bald man shook his mechanical right hand, grinning malevolently as he said, "Now I'm going to teach you a good lesson on behalf of my brother!"
Durin's face darkened, and he instinctively reached for the short knife at his waist.
I really didn't expect retribution to come so quickly!