Chapter Five: Shadow

The fog in London is a different kind of rain. It's not as intense and frank as the torrential rain that swept through the night of the purge of the traitors; instead, it's a thick, pervasive, grey curtain carrying the smell of coal smoke and the stench of the Thames.

It obscures vision, confuses sound, and blurs all outlines into suspicious shadows. In this weather, any secret meeting seems perfectly natural, and any dirty deal appears to be enveloped by the thick fog.

A small pub called "Anchor," located on the edge of the dock area, is a small footnote in this gray area.

It wasn't yet peak time for customers, and the place was dimly lit, with only a kerosene lamp on the bar and the flickering embers in the fireplace casting erratic shadows in the damp air.

The air was filled with a mixture of smells from cheap malt liquor, old tobacco stains, and damp, rotting wood.

Mu sat in the corner booth, almost blending into the shadow behind her.

She wore a plain black knee-length skirt with a matching wool coat, the collar tightly buttoned up, impeccably tailored. A glass of water sat before her, her fingertips tapping unconsciously on the cold glass, the rhythm as steady as the ticking of some precision instrument.

She didn't touch the glass of water, as if its existence was merely to provide a clean barrier between her fingers and the rough wooden table.

She is "Raven," the eyes, ears, and nerve center of the Xuyue organization. If Xuyue is the brain, the Ram is the skeleton that sustains life, and Xiya is the claw that strikes, then Mu is the neural network that permeates every corner of the city, collecting all information.

She controls the flow of information, discerning its authenticity, assessing its value, and then presenting the most essential and crucial parts to Xu Yue. This is immense power, and the way she wields it is absolutely cold and precise.

The tavern door was pushed open, bringing in a blast of damp, cold mist and a short, stocky man wrapped in an old coat. The man glanced around warily, his gaze finally settling on the corner where Mu Ye was.

He rubbed his hands together, exhaled a puff of white breath, and quickly walked over to sit down opposite Mu Ye.

“Ms. Raven?” the man lowered his voice, his tone carrying a barely perceptible hint of flattery and even more nervousness.

Mu also raised her eyes. Her pupils were an extremely deep brown, almost pure black in the dim light. When she looked at people, there was no emotional fluctuation, like two bottomless pools of icy water, which could make anyone who looked at her feel a chill rise up their spine.

"The goods." She spoke, her voice flat, without question or command, just a simple statement that signaled the start of the transaction.

The man swallowed hard, took out a small square wrapped tightly in oilcloth from his inner pocket, and carefully pushed it in front of Mu Ye.

"Here's what you wanted: the patrol schedule and key inspection areas for the Riverside District Police over the next two weeks... Also, the photos and letters you specifically mentioned regarding the newly appointed vice president of the dockworkers' union and his sister-in-law are all in here."

Mu did not immediately touch the oilcloth bag.

Her gaze remained fixed on the man's face, as if she were reading every subtle twitch of his facial muscles and analyzing every contraction and dilation of his pupils. "The price."

"The same price, thirty pounds. Plus..." The man licked his slightly chapped lips, "plus a message, free of charge, as a token of my sincerity."

Mu remained silent, gesturing for him to continue.

“Things have been a bit...unsettled lately.” The man lowered his voice further. “Some unfamiliar faces have been asking around, inquiring about the saltwater crocodiles. They’re spending lavishly, but asking very cautiously, like...professionals.”

“Describe.” Mu Ye’s expression remained unchanged, as if he were only hearing tomorrow’s weather forecast.

“It’s hard to say. They’re very wary, and the people who show up each time are different. But there’s one thing in common: their boots are all the same style of military leather boots, well-maintained but deliberately aged,” the man said quickly. “I have a feeling they’re up to no good.”

Mu also took out a leather wallet from inside her coat, counted out three ten-pound notes, placed them neatly on the table, and pushed them toward the man.

Then, she picked up the oilcloth bag, deftly untied the drawstring with her fingertips, and quickly and carefully examined its contents—several handwritten forms, several somewhat blurry but recognizable black and white photographs, and several letters with neat handwriting.

Her movements were efficient, professional, and without any unnecessary actions.

After confirming that everything was correct, she carefully put the oilcloth bag away and placed it in an old leather bag that she always carried with her.

Throughout the entire process, she made no comment on the "free information" offered by the man, showing neither surprise nor gratitude.

The man grabbed the banknotes, quickly stuffed them into his pocket, and seemed relieved, yet also somewhat uneasy about Mu Ye's silence. "Well... Ms. Raven, if there's nothing else, I'll be going now?"

"Wait," Mu said. The man's body stiffened.

Mu also took out another five-pound note from his purse and placed it on the table. "Keep an eye on those boots. Contact us the usual way if you find anything new. This is a deposit."

A smile instantly bloomed on the man's face, and he nodded repeatedly: "Understood! Don't worry, I'll definitely keep my eyes peeled!"

The man hurried away, disappearing once more into the thick fog outside the door. Mu remained seated, her fingertips beginning to tap again on the untouched glass of water.

In those unfathomable eyes, there seemed to be an extremely faint stream of data flashing, analyzing, classifying, and storing all the information that had just been obtained.

The patrol officers' schedules can be used to plan the next smuggling route; the vice president's scandals can be used as leverage to exert pressure when necessary; and those "military boots"... are a signal that needs to be verified and analyzed immediately with a higher priority.

She stood up, her movements as swift as a real raven. She ignored the glass of water as if it had never existed.

She stopped at the tavern entrance, not out of hesitation, but as if she had completed some kind of ritualistic confirmation.

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze falling on the blurry mirror above the tavern counter, reflecting her pale, sharply defined face and the empty corner behind her.

In that instant, her eyes underwent a very subtle change.

It was no longer completely cold, but mixed with... an indescribable complex emotion.

It was a weariness that came from knowing everything, a calmness that was deep in the mire yet clearly depicted the map of the mire, and a distorted tacit understanding that could only arise with a specific object.

She wasn't looking at herself in the mirror, but rather, through the mirror, she seemed to see the figure who gave her all this meaning—Xu Yue.

This tacit understanding was built upon a shared comprehension of navigating the depths of darkness together. Mu also knew Xu Yue's ambition, Xu Yue's trauma, and the deep-seated motivations behind Xu Yue's creation of this "crow flock."

And she, Mu Ye, is the only one who can completely keep up with Xu Yue's thought process and even predict her actions in some aspects.

She gathers intelligence not only for the organization's survival but also to satisfy Xu Yue's almost obsessive desire for control, while secretly assessing the end of this path.

This is a connection that transcends simple hierarchy; it is twisted, yet unbreakable. Xu Yue needs her abilities, and she, in turn, needs the dangerous stage that Xu Yue provides, a stage where she can unleash her full potential.

The fog swallowed her figure, as if no one had ever been there.

Half an hour later, Mu returned to the organization's core stronghold in Razor Lane.

This place was originally an abandoned warehouse, but through clever renovation and strict defense, it became the nest of crows.

Unlike the damp and cold outside, the interior of the stronghold was filled with a unique smell that mixed tobacco, engine oil, coffee, and a certain tense atmosphere.

She walked straight to the innermost room, Xu Yue's office. The guards at the door silently made way for her.

Mu knocked lightly on the door twice, and without waiting for a response, she pushed the door open and entered—this was a privilege granted to her by Xuyue.

Xu Yue was standing by the window, her back to the door, gazing at the blurry city outline shrouded in thick fog.

She changed out of the black clothes she wore during the operation and put on a dark purple silk shirt, with the cuffs casually rolled up to reveal her smooth forearms.

She didn't turn around when she heard the door open.

"How is the situation?" Xu Yue's voice came through, carrying a hint of barely perceptible fatigue, but still steady.

Mu walked to the desk, placed the oilcloth package on the table, and then stepped back, maintaining a just-right distance.

“The patrol schedule is fine; the window of opportunity is early Wednesday morning next week. The vice president of the dockworkers' union has enough leverage.” She paused, her voice remaining steady.

"In addition, the 'rat' reported that someone with a suspected professional background is inquiring about you. The distinguishing feature is the same style of military leather boots."

Xu Yue finally turned around. Her gaze swept over the oilcloth bag and finally landed on Mu Ye's face.

Those sharp gray eyes seemed to pierce through Mu Ye's calm facade, directly observing the intelligence analysis that had already been partially processed in her mind. "What do you think?"

“Not the police, their style doesn’t seem like it. More likely they’re competitors, or… a higher-level force,” Mu Ye replied. “Should we activate our secondary intelligence network for reverse tracking?”

Xu Yue walked behind the table and sat down, her fingers lightly tapping the surface as she pondered. The only sounds in the room were the soft crackling of the firewood in the fireplace and the heavy, unspoken silence between the two of them.

This silence is not awkward, but rather a resonance born of intense focus.

"Start it up." Xu Yue finally decided, "Focus on investigating the new forces that have recently tried to enter our territory, and... keep a close eye on that one called 'Lian Yeyi'."

“Understood.” Mu nodded. She didn’t ask Xu Yue why she specifically mentioned “Lian Yeyi,” as if Xu Yue’s thought process was transparent to her.

"Mu Ye." Xu Yue suddenly called out to her as she was about to turn and leave.

Evening stopped, and they waited quietly.

"Is the ice beneath our feet thinner than we imagined?" Xu Yue's voice was very soft, as if she were talking to Mu Ye, or perhaps to herself.

Mu remained silent for a moment, his dark pupils reflecting the flickering firelight, yet still cold.

“The ice has always been thin, Xu Yue. It’s just that we moved fast enough and lightly enough before.” She paused, then added, “And now, tentative cracks have appeared.”

Xu Yue's lips curled into a faint, almost cold smile. "Let's see if someone falls in first, or if we can get to the other side."

Mu did not respond further, but simply nodded slightly, and then quietly left the room, like a true shadow.

The door closed gently, once again sealing the twisted yet profound tacit understanding between the two into a dimension that only they could perceive.

For Mu Ye, Xu Yue was not only the leader, but also a complex being to whom she devoted all her intelligence to understanding, assisting, and perhaps even judging one day.

But at this moment, her work had only just begun. The clues about "military boots" needed to be put into the vast intelligence labyrinth in her mind, compared and pieced together with countless fragments until a clear image emerged.

She is the raven, the eye in the darkness, the most silent yet indispensable shadow beneath the throne of the Moon.

Back in her cramped room—which was more like an intelligence hub—the walls were covered with maps of London’s various districts, marked with different colored pins and thin lines to indicate spheres of influence, intelligence points, safe houses, and targets that needed to be monitored.

The table was piled with files and a telegraph machine, and the air was filled with the cold smell of old paper and metal.

Mu walked to the wall, picked up a black thumbtack representing an "unknown threat," and precisely nailed it to the boundary between the riverbank and dock areas—the very spot where "Rat" had mentioned the initial source of the rumor. Then, she stopped, her gaze sweeping across the entire intricate intelligence network diagram.

In a corner where no one could see, her fingers unconsciously brushed against a very well-hidden little pocket on the inside of her coat, where a hard little object seemed to be hidden.

Her gaze flickered for a moment, revealing a complex emotion—a mixture of tenderness and resolve—that was quite different from her usual cold demeanor.

Those were traces belonging to "Silver Hair," the only soft spot in this cold organization that didn't belong to Xu Yue, and the secret motivation that drove her to secretly record the organization's crimes and plan her eventual escape from this path of no return.

But this slight fluctuation was fleeting.

She took a deep breath of the cold air and refocused her attention on the map.

Now, she is "Raven," the sharpest dagger in Xuyue's hand, and the most perceptive alarm bell.

Danger was already creeping in with the thick fog of London. She picked up a pencil and quickly wrote down a few keywords on a blank sheet of paper: "military boots," "professional reconnaissance," "Lian Yeyi," and "BXX," beginning a new round of reasoning and calculation.

Never mind. The night is still long.