The Bald Head Man's face was somewhat contorted; he quickly bent down to pick up his gun and was about to pull the trigger when a large hand suddenly reached out from behind him and pressed down on his shoulder.

"Calm down."

"Bo...Boss!" The Bald Head Man's face lit up with joy as he looked behind him.

The burly, tattooed man who had previously appeared at Old Du Lin's shop stepped out from behind the curtain.

He took the Bald Head Man's pistol, dragged over a stool, and sat in front of Zacro, raising his hand to fire several shots at the ceiling.

"Bang bang—!!"

Several burly men, wearing steam-powered standard weapons, burst through the walls from various compartments.

In just a few moves, at the cost of a few lives and some blood, the riot was quelled.

Amidst the chaos, only the two men at the gambling table remained seated.

"State your purpose, lucky cripple."

The tattooed man held the gun to the other's head; the slender, standard pistol looked like a small toy in his hand.

The cripple sneered:

"You can't kill me now."

"Who gave you that confidence?"

The tattooed man frowned, applying slight pressure with his wrist, the muzzle pressing against the other, forcing him to look up.

Zacro still smiled fearlessly, raising his chin:

"The dead men on the ground, their fates."

The tattooed man's brows furrowed into a single line, and he decisively pulled the trigger.

"Click.. click click click.. !"

All the bullets misfired.

"Snap..."

The tattooed man threw away the revolver, staring intently at the other:

"What do you want?"

"Submit to me! Or give the gang to me!"

Zacro spread his hands, his eyes seemingly burning with fire, his entire demeanor suddenly changing; there was no trace of his previous drunkenness or dishevelment.

"I will lead you to annex Black Alley and get out of this dilapidated alley!"

The scene fell silent for a moment.

Then, snickering began, growing louder and louder.

"Hahaha!"

"Brothers, look what I heard? A cripple, saying he's going to lead us out of Black Alley?!"

"Just with your little bit of luck?"

"Hahaha, you really don't need us to help you up?"

Laughter rose and fell, almost everyone bent over.

But the burly, tattooed man did not laugh; instead, he stared seriously at the other.

The laughter around them gradually subsided because of him.

Even if they were arrogant and foolish, they understood who had turned the gambling house into such a mess.

Zacro smiled contentedly, not caring about the mockery, and continued:

"I originally planned to find Black Snake; I even thought of a name after joining, changing it to the most venomous... 'Black King Snake.'

"But later, I changed my mind. I want to be a rat.

"A rat... that can swallow an elephant! A mad rat that can swallow everyone in the upper echelons!"

He slowly rose, tearing off the pant leg of his crippled leg.

Inside, it was a leg entirely constructed of machinery!

Gears interlocked, but due to rust on some parts, it couldn't operate normally. However, just from the material texture, one could tell its price was definitely not cheap.

"Come, you fight me, one on one."

Zacro stomped a pit into the gambling table.

"The stakes: my life, your submission."

The tattooed man was silent for a few seconds, then slowly rose. He beckoned, and his subordinates nearby brought two steam armguards, whose external scale was far larger than those used by Sister Amy.

The tattooed man put on the armguards, and everyone wisely retreated to the periphery.

"You're not an ordinary vagrant; did you commit a crime in another district and flee here?"

Zacro smiled:

"Failed pasts, memories have no meaning."

The tattooed man activated the armguards, and steam began to rise:

"Your strange luck does not belong to normal power. Abnormal power comes with an abnormal price."

Zacro didn't care, taking out a coin and spinning it on his fingertip:

"Heh heh, I know better than you that I am being used. But it doesn't matter, I will fulfill my long-cherished wish before paying the price."

"Clank—"

Zacro's mechanical leg, long dormant, began to operate.

The rusty gears, from stiff twisting, turned faster and faster.

The metal also became brighter as sparks flew.

"Ding—!"

A coin was flicked into the air.

........

Nine District, Central City's Central District.

Here, the Nine District's most luxurious buildings, and also the Executive Council Building, rumored to be the tallest in the New Continent. Most of the wealthy and elites who call themselves "Pioneering Pathfinders" are also gathered here.

On the edge of the Central District, Meditation Society, Cathedral Hall.

A middle-aged man in a gold-trimmed robe, after completing the baptism for a group of new converts, hurried back to his private meditation room.

He twisted a hidden button on the back of a sculpture on the bookshelf, and the bookshelf rotated like a revolving door.

Amidst the sound of rolling gears, he arrived at the secret compartment behind the bookshelf.

In the darkness, there was a continuous "rustling" sound.

The middle-aged man lit the gas lamp by the wall.

The light was not bright, but it was enough to cover this small space.

Looking up, on the central square table, there was a gray quill pen, held by no one, bizarrely writing with effort.

The "rustling" sound just now was clearly coming from it.

If Li Andy could see the content on the paper at this moment, he would surely discover that what the quill pen was writing—

This was the record of the bizarre and tumultuous lives of each Lucky Coin holder, from obtaining the coin to losing it.

The middle-aged man came to the table, quickly scanned the handwriting, and his brows furrowed tighter and tighter.

"Why did Master's prophecy deviate so much?"

"The Gambler... has ambition."

"The street girl... showed true emotion."

"The Butcher... actually became timid!"

"Why?"

"Is this... fate without a constant?"