Chapter 175: The Bigger the Storm, the Higher the Price of Fish

【Early morning, Upper City, Steam Defense Bureau, outside the main gate】

“It’s impossible, Kong. Those people right now only see fire in their eyes. No matter who goes, no one can stop them now.”

“But you’re the only one they’d even listen to—just one word from you.”

Hearing Chen Kong’s words, Old Jack, freshly released by him and Isabelle, fell into silence.

Seeing the hesitation, Chen Kong stepped forward half a pace.

“Old Jack, some things are hard—but we can’t back down just because they’re hard.”

“You stood by ‘Justice’ yesterday, even when you knew how tough it would be. Why pull back now?”

“Justice?” Old Jack snapped his head up, then pointed toward the nearby ad screen cycling through yesterday’s Trial verdict.

“Look at that, Kong. That’s the cost of Justice.”

On screen, Vivian stood alone on the Trial Platform—pale, weak, her face etched with pain.

“Former Silver Knight of the Original Church, Vivian Howard, will undergo ‘Furnace Punishment’ on October 3rd, Stellar Era 101.”

“Kong,” Old Jack said, voice hollow, “Vivian already gave us her life’s lesson—here in the Steam Capital, ‘Justice’ and ‘Hope’ are luxury goods beyond our reach.”

“We Lower City rats aren’t even allowed to glance at them. Let alone dream of them ever coming to us.”

He gave a bitter chuckle, then patted Chen Kong’s shoulder.

“Thanks for getting me out, kid. Truly.”

“But right now… I can’t help you.”

“If I don’t leave the Steam Capital fast, once the Church has time to turn its attention here, the next time you look for me… you’ll be digging through the stinking sewers of Lower City.”

With that, he waved, turned, and walked through the puddles toward the steam train station.

“Just walk away like this? Are you really okay with that?”

Old Jack stopped. He turned. His weathered face was carved with sorrow.

“Not okay? Of course not. But admitting you’re ordinary… and powerless… that’s part of growing up.”

He looked at Chen Kong, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“I paid half my life to William yesterday. I owe him. Now, I don’t have to risk more. No obligation. No reason.”

“And you think the people in Lower City don’t know the price of this?”

“No,” he said, voice quiet. “They know it better than anyone.”

“But still, they charge at that light like moths—blind, reckless, drawn to a fire that’s never meant for them.”

“Stop them?”

“Sure. But first, show them real hope.”

He lifted a finger, pointing at himself.

“Look at me, Kong. Do I look like someone who can give them hope?”

“I’m just a bar owner. The biggest thing I can do? Like yesterday—pass along what I have, at the right moment. That’s all.”

With one last glance at Chen Kong, he turned and walked into the empty, quiet alley of the morning.

At that moment, Old Jack was no longer the upright owner of Rust Nail Bar.

He was an old man, broken by truth, stepping slowly toward a future that would be lonely—inevitable.

“I’ll try,” Chen Kong said softly.

But the words carried weight—like a pebble dropped into still water, sending ripples through silence.

Old Jack froze.

“I’m not doing this because I’m some hero,” Chen Kong continued, voice firm. “I’m doing it because I’m from Rust Iron District.”

“Everyone says it’s hell. But even in hell, I found real warmth.”

“So… I won’t back down.”

He took a deep breath. His expression hardened.

“Because if I do nothing today, when the storm comes for me tomorrow, there won’t be anyone left to stand up for me.”

“And I won’t let Vivian die. I’ll do everything I can to give her justice.”

“Besides… you’re not the only one who owes William a debt.”

Without another word, Chen Kong turned and walked toward Nut Hub Station.

Old Jack paused at the alley’s mouth.

But he didn’t look back.

Only the curve of his spine grew more bent as he walked away.

Their shadows stretched long in the morning sun—pulling apart, growing fainter—until they vanished at the ends of their separate paths.

Isabelle watched them go, silent for a moment. Then she pulled out her Data Terminal.

Moments later, a man in a silk sleeping robe appeared on screen—still half-asleep, hair a mess, eyes bleary.

No one else but Isabelle’s father—Dorian, the richest man in Deep Blue Metropolis.

“Hmm? My little sailor, what’s wrong? Why call so early? Miss me?”

“Father,” Isabelle said, “you said the fiercer the storm, the more valuable the catch, right?”

Dorian raised an eyebrow, then sat up straight.

“Well, depends on how sturdy your ship is.”

“But—”

“But what?” Isabelle asked, curious.

“—if you’re saying this, then you’re not asking for my approval. You’re just informing me.”

“Because once you speak the words, you already know the answer.”

“I could force you to stop. But I won’t.”

“Why?”

Isabelle feigned innocence. “Why?”

“Because a true captain doesn’t flee the storm. He sails into it.”

“Go ahead, my little sailor. Even if it fails—just don’t sink the entire Steam Capital. Then I’ll still be able to bail you out.”

Dorian expected a look of awe—maybe even a grateful hug.

Instead, Isabelle replied:

“Father… I might just do that.”

“What?!”

The screen erupted. Dorian shot upright—so fast he tore the sash of his robe open, his hair standing on end.

No longer the elegant, composed tycoon. Just a panicked man, wide-eyed and disheveled.

He gripped the terminal. “Wait—don’t panic! Don’t act rash! Tell me what’s going on!”

Isabelle blinked slowly, her big, innocent eyes wide with feigned sweetness.

“But you just said you wouldn’t stop me, didn’t you?”

“Uh… I was half-asleep! My words might’ve been—uh—unreasonable!”

“Never mind the excuses. Tell me—what’s really happening in the Steam Capital?”

“Okay.”

As Isabelle began describing the situation, Dorian’s expression darkened. His forehead broke into sweat.

They say daughters are a father’s soft spot.

But Dorian felt like his little cotton-padded heart was suddenly full of holes.

And watching his once-cool, smug father—now scrambling, hair wild, voice frantic—was pure entertainment for the Dimensional Audience.

> “Want to play the wise old dad? Let’s see how you handle your daughter’s real plan.”

> “Isabelle’s chef’s kiss—first bait the hook, then reel in the catch. Dorian’s a full-on trophy fish now.”

> “So the main crew’s gonna stir up a storm, huh? Can’t wait!”

> “Dorian: You wanted to act deep? Now you’re flying—literally! (Keep slapping yourself, lol.jpg)”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end