Rusty Dragon

The protracted 'witch hunting' had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years' War,  and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise.
Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said—
"Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!"

They all call me Great Master

Or more accurately, the paper and ink used to make fake cheques!


These two items alone were enough to entice James!


Mals guessed at the bottom of his heart and glanced at Arthur, lowering his voice to reveal the address of the painter apprentice.


"Docklands, 10 Clara Street—I've had someone keeping watch there since last night," he said.


Mals's intent was quite straightforward: he was worried about any mishap with the gold and silver jewelry at No. 44 White Bird Street, his partner's place.


Arthur, who had been aware of his partner's arrangements for some time, responded with a smile and a nod—he knew well that having ample time meant he couldn't do without partners.


Of course, he was still quite far from leisurely days.


He was just over fifty; he shouldn't be thinking about retirement, as it was his time to shine!


His grandfather went on 'exorcism' commissions at the age of seventy-two!


Chapter 147: Bait!