The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 474: Dignity

“What did you do?”

The Rat King stared fixedly at Old Ghost, his expression as dark and cold as it could be.

The finger on his trigger had already turned white from how hard he was pressing, yet at this mont that small trigger simply would not move.

As if it had been locked in place.

But it was not so external force. It was sothing the Rat King knew, yet did not dare admit, did not even dare show... fear.

Ten whole years had passed, and he was still afraid of this man.

“What did I do? Naturally, I didn’t do anything. It’s just that even though I’ve been away for a full ten years, there are still a few people willing to listen when this old relic opens his mouth.”

Old Ghost smiled with perfect composure.

The Rat King’s expression shifted. He suddenly turned his head.

He had heard the sound of sothing hitting the water.

In the corner of his eye, neither Old Ghost nor that always-smiling Mister Gro seed inclined to make any further move.

Instead, he himself was the one still holding up the crossbow like so clown provoked into a cheap tantrum.

Deciding the crossbow was now useless anyway, the Rat King simply lowered it, stretched out his neck, and cautiously peered in the direction the sound had co from.

The weather was poor. There was neither moonlight nor stars.

But with the help of the lamps on the boat, he could vaguely make out sothing floating on the river’s surface.

It was a body... no, several bodies.

Each and every body was wearing the matching outfit he knew all too well.

They floated face down in the water, their hands—already stiff, it seed—still clutching the expensive, specially issued magic weapons.

mbers of the Mouse Society.

His own subordinates.

They were the elites he had stationed around the area, the very ones he depended on to dare step onto a stranger’s boat in the dead of night.

And now, all those he relied on had been quietly disposed of without a sound.

“......”

A faint scent of blood filled his nostrils, pricking at his nerves like needles. The Rat King’s hand clamped down hard on the window fra, yet he still could not suppress the trembling in his fingers.

“Now one of your supports seems to have disappeared. I suggest you try your other one.”

Old Ghost was already seated in a chair that Mister Gro had considerately brought over. His hands were calmly folded.

“For example... how about calling on that so-called emperor of yours?”

“......”

A muscle twitched in the Rat King’s cheek. His vicious glare locked onto Old Ghost once more.

But this ti, no matter how you looked at it, it was all bluff and no substance.

The Rat King ground his teeth inwardly.

If he had a way to contact Mister Bruce, he would have done it the instant he noticed sothing was wrong. Prudence and ticulous thinking were the greatest supports that had taken him from a common street thug to where he stood today.

Unfortunately, Mister Bruce had never left any contact information. And it had already been several months since he had last shown himself in the Lower District.

Only when the people under him ca to trade with military weapons that rats like them could only dream about did it prove that he still held authority over the entire Lower District.

“Looks like your emperor won’t be appearing tonight, Sam.”

Old Ghost looked out the window. The dense clouds were blown apart by a cold wind, and a thin, chilly moonbeam spilled over the wide river.

“As an old acquaintance, I’ll kindly give you one more chance. You can once again stand at my side and gain everything you never had before—power, money, desire. As long as you break through those laughable, childish rules you ntioned, everything will be within reach.”

“There’s no need to feel any psychological burden. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.”

Old Ghost lifted his foot, pointing the sole right at the Rat King, his expression haughty.

“However, right now, Sam, I’m afraid you only qualify to be a dog.”

High above, Old Ghost rely aid that mud-stained boot at the Rat King. However you saw it, this was an extrely humiliating gesture.

Yet the Rat King stared fixedly at it, furious curses rolling at the tip of his tongue, but unable to leave his mouth.

He rembered how, in the past, Old Ghost—who had been a hair’s breadth from ruling the entire Lower District—had used this very thod to vent his terrible authority on everyone who refused to submit.

Either kneel on the ground and lick his shoes.

Or die.

Two choices.

The Rat King closed his eyes and sank into thought.

Old Ghost did not urge him. The night was still long. He quietly waited for the Rat King’s deliberation.

He was confident Sam would give him a satisfactory answer.

Because, if you looked back ten years, everyone had given him a satisfactory answer.

“Hiss... haa...”

The Rat King suddenly drew in a long breath, as if using the river’s chilly air to cool his overloaded brain.

He finally opened his eyes.

Deep in his gaze, fear still lingered.

But he seed to have settled on sothing.

“Old Ghost, do you know what it feels like to not have to roll in the mud, to not have to wag your tail and beg in front of others for scraps of food they’ve thrown away?”

The Rat King suddenly spoke.

“What do you an?” Old Ghost narrowed his eyes in a dangerous way.

“In the past, to stay alive, for money and status, I did everything. I knelt on the ground, wagged my tail and begged, licked the shoes of those big shots, climbed up step by step. But even after I painstakingly built the Mouse Society, I still had to live off the ‘rewards’ that those high-and-mighty lords let slip through their fingers.”

“Old Ghost, if you’ve managed to co back, there must be quite the figure behind you. Maybe it’s one of those sa lords who once tossed their leftovers to . They ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) want us to be their dogs again, to be driven about at will. Sothing big seems about to happen in Belrand—I can feel it. Nothing is more sensitive than rats like us crawling in the gutters.”

“Being a dog isn’t exactly so great tragedy. Anyone who’s survived in the Lower District has been a dog at so point.”

“But...”

The Rat King’s face twisted ferociously. He suddenly raised the repeating crossbow that had long since dropped to his side.

“There are differences even between dogs. At the very least, over these past few months, I finally learned what ‘dignity’ tastes like!”

Twang—

The crossbow fired in an instant. The sharp bolt grazed right past Old Ghost’s sinister face.

It missed.

Or rather, it had been blocked.

Staring at the semi-transparent barrier shimring at Old Ghost’s side, the Rat King showed not the slightest surprise.

A man who had once ruled the shadows of all Belrand with absolute tyrant thods—how could he possibly be naive enough to believe he could cow everyone with authority alone?

The most fundantal law of this world was still survival of the fittest, the strong devouring the weak.

Old Ghost was that strong one.

The Rat King quickly turned his head toward the only subordinate he had brought.

“I’ll take care of your family for you. Your little sister will attend the best school.”

His subordinate’s face changed for just a split second. Then he clenched his teeth hard.

“Yes!”

Without any hesitation, a pitch-black spherical object appeared in the subordinate’s arms. He clutched the sphere tightly and lowered his head, charging straight at Old Ghost.

Mister Gro, who had been enjoying the show for quite a while, suddenly went pale.

“A military magic bomb? Where did he get that?!”

“Damn it!”

Old Ghost naturally knew how terrifying these military-only weapons of destruction were. He had no intention of sitting still and waiting to die. He stretched out five fingers, grasping at the air toward the man making the suicide attack.

The semi-transparent barrier shrank at once, trapping the man and that destructive rainbow of light together inside.

His most loyal subordinate turned to ash within that rainbow glow. A vein bulged on the Rat King’s forehead, and he forcibly tore his gaze away. Using that brief mont of ti bought with a life, he swung the crossbow to one side and fired sharply.

The bolt, charged with magic, exploded the instant it struck the cabin wall. Wood splinters and glowing-hot tal fragnts flew in all directions. The Rat King shielded his head and hurled himself through the hole blasted open by the explosion.

Splash.

With the sound of sothing hitting the water, the short Rat King slipped into the vast Glein River like a darting fish and vanished.