After bidding farewell to Gilbert, Lann followed the path he came on and returned to the Fountain Square in front of the Gascoigne family house.
On the way past the townsfolk’s ’barbecue party,’ he fully utilized the knowledge obtained from the "Lonely Shadow Group’s Ninja Technique Book."
Fast and concise movements, silent footsteps... these people tormented to madness by the beast plague couldn’t spot him in the chaotic street scenes.
Now, on the streets of Yharnam, there were overturned and abandoned carriages everywhere from the hunting night of the mutation, along with suitcases and locked coffins fallen off the carriages.
So even though Lann was a hulking man standing two meters tall in armor, he could still easily find routes for stealthy movement.
The patients wandering and patrolling, waiting to kill something, mostly only moved on the lower two levels of this street.
The top third level had no direct passage connecting it with the two lower levels.
The difference of more than four meters in height between the second and third levels required tools to cross in the eyes of Yharnam hunters, like a ladder.
But for Lann, as long as he wasn’t hindered by ordinary people, crossing the height difference of more than four meters was quite simple.
With his breathing adjusted in the right way, the ’buoyancy’ in Lann’s body in the air was greatly enhanced.
Then, bearing the heavy armor of the Bear School, he charged straight toward the high wall.
A body lightened by several kilograms, paired with his unchanged muscle strength, allowed him to plant his spiked gloved palm on the platform’s edge after two steps on the wall. The source of this content ɪs NovelHub(.)net
A simple exertion of strength with both hands, and he flipped himself onto the over four-meter-high third-level street.
Seeing the patients below still completely unaware, Lann pouted.
If the timing were right, he might have had quite some fun in this winding, elevation-challenged city.
The bodies of the beastly patients Lann had personally dealt with still lay in the fountain square.
As he expected upon leaving, several more beastly patients were attracted by the thick scent of blood here, wandering back and forth.
On the residential district windows beside, several iron-barred windows had been broken from the inside, with the iron bars bent outwards by fierce force.
The ’things’ emerging from inside, regardless of the stage of beast plague, seemed far from human.
The iron gate in the fountain square was closed by Lann when he left, preventing these beastly patients from straying around Gascoigne’s house.
Lann himself didn’t need to pull the trigger mechanism anew to open the iron gate and pass through.
He simply used his efficient movement method once again, appearing on the other side of the iron gate in no time.
Among the beast plague patients, only those on all fours might compare to him. As for the humans in Yharnam, he hadn’t yet seen anyone with such excellent mobility in three-dimensional space.
Crossing the iron gate, the nearby window and door of the Gascoigne family were close.
Lann wanted to check the note left by Oliveira and Victoria, to see if it was removed or covered by the wandering beastly patients.
But as he approached the door, his nostrils flared slightly, and his left hand moved to the sword hilt at his waist.
The scent of sludge... from the nearby waterway?
There was a trail of black muddy footprints on the ground, with the color lightening as the owner of the footprints emerged from the bottom of the waterway.
"Leather boots, suitable for intense movement with thick soles."
After glancing at the footprints, Lann’s tracking knowledge made several judgments immediately.
"Small foot size and no skeletal deformities... a normal woman?"
Lann lowered his alert slightly, at least not swinging his blade instantly upon seeing the person.
Entering the Gascoigne house, he let go of the left hand on the sheath.
Because a hunter in full black attire was nonchalantly standing in the living room, scrutinizing the note in Victoria’s childish handwriting.
Her entire body was covered with a black bird feather cloak, but it was apparent that her frame wasn’t large.
Her head was completely enclosed in a bird-beak mask from the Western plague era.
During the plague era, such masks were commonly used by medical personnel, with hollow beak parts to hold herbs for filtering the breathing air.
The combination of the mask and the cloak made her look like a massive and ominous crow.
Before Lann could inquire after entering, the woman beneath the crow mask spoke first.
"Seems like you’re an outsider, hunter? I haven’t seen you before..."
Her voice sounded like she was in her forties or fifties, quite old among hunters.
Calm and indifferent, even amid this bloody night.
Yharnam’s hunters always gave a feeling of ’nothing matters anymore, I accept peacefully.’
"Tonight is a night of chaotic predicaments, right? Tonight, and every night thereafter..."
"Anyway, welcome to Yharnam, hunter. Prepare for the worst, for there are no living people left in this city."
As she spoke, she carefully reapplied Victoria’s removed note to the wall.
Lann noticed she meticulously flattened every inch of the edges as she drew her hand back.
The young man refuted in her pessimistic words.
"As far as I know, there are still some at Yusefka Clinic. They’ve hoarded some incense, and you can rest there if you wish, the doctor is a good person."
This crow-like hunter heard it.
Lann was sure of that.
But strangely, upon hearing the news of survivors, she didn’t show any excitement.
As if the ’survivors’ spoken by Lann didn’t exist in her eyes.
Lann felt odd because she didn’t seem to disbelieve Lann’s words, rather... didn’t consider those people ’survivors’ at all?
Was it merely sheer pessimism?
And just as the crow’s feathered cloak brushed past Lann’s body heading outwards, hurried footsteps came from the entrance.
The newcomer nearly burst into the Gascoigne house like an intruder.
His serrated meat saw dripped with thick, foul-smelling blood and bits of fur-laden flesh.
Underneath the dirt-yellow coat, the Old Hunter’s chest heaved like bellows.
Between his triangular hat and mask was a slit showing his eyes, bloodshot, weary, and obstinate.
The grip tightening on the meat saw handle upon seeing the open house door could be directly heard by those inside.
But in seeing the interior: no bloodstains, neat and cozy furniture, and two hunters who didn’t seem confrontational...
The Old Hunter quickly realized that his worst fears hadn’t come true.
But where had Viola gone!? Where had the children gone!?