Ah Bo was a water ghost, bound to the Themes River, including its upstream tributaries, which meant that, strictly speaking, his territory was much larger than Ah Bin’s.
Including the tributaries, it meant that Ah Bo’s territory would further expand during the heavy rain season.
Lundan city’s drainage outlets were connected to the mother river so even without heavy rain, Ah Bo could freely move about in the sewers. Apart from the strong smell of domestic sewage and a bit of an overdose in heavy metals in industrial wastewater, there was nothing amiss.
"Gross, did you just walk through shit to get here?" Wayne said with disgust.
Ah Bo immediately retorted. Although he was dead, he still maintained a good habit of hygiene. He came through the flood drainage passages, not the miasmic sewers.
This reminded Wayne that Ah Bo was a living map of Lundan’s sewage system, more familiar with it than anyone else.
Of course, Butler Philark wasn’t bad either.
As the one-of-a-kind, excellent butler in Wayne’s view, Philark knew of many tunnels unconnected to the Themes River, bomb shelters exclusive to the wealthy, and private underground passages of great strategic value.
With Ah Bo, the living map, at his side, Wayne was more confident in his control over the sewers and decisively changed his schedule.
He slept during the day, caught up on his diary, and spent the nights in the sewers, getting to know the layout and looking for Elemental brethren in hiding.
Don’t be afraid, my fellow townsfolk, I’m Wayne, and I’m here to rescue you.
When it came to the Essence of Life, Wayne couldn’t help but complain that the Four Elements satisfied the essence of life, but the accumulation process involved some losses and didn’t always keep rising.
The most direct way to incur a loss was using magic, the basic magic related to the Four Elements.
Every time Wayne used basic magic, like the Earth Wall spell, it would consume the Earth Element he had stored.
According to the theory in books, this is how it was for every Mage apprentice. The Hexagram had not yet been ignited and interconnected, and their thinking had not undergone a qualitative upgrade. They were unable to directly manipulate the free elements of the outside world. This was a process every Mage had to go through.
So, Wayne didn’t use Elemental Magic much anymore.
When others ran out of internal elements, a bit of meditation would replenish them, but that didn’t work for him, for he had too few transport team leaders. Where was he going to find a second Void Lord!
In fact, he could still use it, with precise thought control, reducing the proportion of magic power summoned. Basic magic wouldn’t consume much of the Four Elements.
Not to put it too bluntly, Wayne could replenish the Four Elements he consumed just by taking a breath in the sewer.
But he didn’t want to.
That’s what hoarding behavior is like.
Wayne had a compulsion to hoard supplies. It was the same even before he traversed to this world. He stockpiled many things he deemed useful, and even when time proved them useless, he couldn’t bear to throw them away, convinced they would come in handy in the future.
His hoarding behavior didn’t just occur in reality but also on the internet. He habitually collected items in his bookmarks, shopping cart, hard drive, and cloud storage whenever he thought they might be useful.
There was even a period when he was obsessed with categorizing them, sorting out Japanese, Western, classic, and fantasy anime content—a completely pointless activity that made him happy.
If asked, he would argue "it’s better to be safe than sorry."
All things considered, Wayne’s hoarding had reached a late stage and was incurable. With no internet, he began to collect items related to magic: handguns, crowbars, knuckledusters, the Four Elements, magic books — he welcomed them all.
As you can imagine, one day, his warehouse would be extraordinarily large.
Ah Bo led Wayne through the sewers, pointing out ladders and exits, explaining which road or street was above and what landmark buildings were nearby.
Wayne had an exceptional memory but an ordinary sense of direction. After a few loops, he started getting confused.
He began to reweave his memory network, processing information, summarizing and converting text into images to deepen the memory impression, and a two-layered map of Lundan gradually became clear in his mind.
"Above us is a bar controlled by the Black Serpent Club. Following the legislator’s instructions, Black Serpent Club’s boss Johnny has restrained his men from expanding their territory and has been keeping a low profile these past few days," Ah Bo pointed to the manhole cover above.
"I’m not interested in the small fry; take me to the legislator," Wayne said from horseback. "The Black Serpent Club are the legislator’s dogs; without his Discover more novels on NovelHub - your gateway to endless stories. Rather than bothering with a step-by-step approach, it’s more efficient to deal directly with the legislator."
But that’s not what you said just now; you even had me make a list!
Ah Bo felt powerless inside. How could he have known that Wayne was just looking for an excuse to take a few more turns in the sewers, acting like a soul that’s not human, constantly finding new ways to torment his disobedient ghostly minions?
Ah Bo didn’t voice his thoughts but changed direction and continued to lead the way.
This turn of events was precisely in line with Ah Bo’s wish. The Black Serpent Club were the legislator’s lackeys. If the legislator deserved to be shot a hundred times, Black Serpent Club members would at least deserve fifty shots. But deep down, he hoped such social trash would die from legal punishment.
Rather than mysterious deaths, criminals facing legal punishment provided a more satisfying vindication, fostering belief among the public that justice and righteousness still existed in the world.
It wasn’t justice associated with the supernatural, but justice intricately related to reality itself—people didn’t need to pray for God’s mercy, a simple phone call could garner the assistance of the law.
The logic also worked the other way around—God was too distant, too abstract, and not nearly as intimidating to criminals as the law, ever-present and within reach. Being judged by God felt more like a moralistic call to virtue, while legal judgment was tangible, forceful deterrence.