Chapter 2: The Crippled Shop

He heavily placed the copper wine cup in his hand onto the cup holder behind him, and the crippled man grabbed another cup and began to wipe it vigorously. A strange smile appeared on his rugged and fierce face as he shouted loudly: "Brave men, welcome back, welcome to my lovely crippled tavern. Drink to your heart's content, eat to your heart's content, I have prepared a batch of fiery girls for you, who will definitely satisfy all your desires"

Putting down the wine glass and the white cloth, the crippled man retreated into the shadows of the wine cabinet

The cripple stood in the corner behind the wine cabinet, holding a large copper wine cup in one hand and a piece of white cloth in the other. He was grinning and vigorously polishing the cup, making it shine both inside and out. A large cigar, smuggled from overseas, was clamped between his teeth, and faint wisps of blue smoke continuously billowed from his mouth

The cripple grinned widely with excitement; these bastards who make a living at sea, every time they toil hard for their catch, a large portion ultimately ends up in his hands. He absolutely adored these brawny yet simple-minded fellows; he was simply in love with them. It was precisely because of them that the wealth of the cripple's shop continued to grow.

The cripple was taken aback, and he murmured softly, "Has that little rascal from the library come? What good things has he brought me this time?"

The Cripple is the owner of the Cripple's shop, and very few people know his original name; everyone calls him the Cripple. Just like his father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, and even older ancestors, they were all called the Cripple and were all the owners of the Cripple's shop

A blackened wooden board hangs crookedly above the stone door, and only by straining one's eyes can one barely make out the disheveled characters on the board—"Lame Shop"

Entering the stone gate, there is a large flat area in front of the tavern. To the left of the flat area are two rows of stone houses, which at this moment are filled with robust men sleeping in various positions. They might be wandering sailors from the docks, dockworkers, gatekeepers of certain warehouses, or perhaps they are tough men making a living in the dock area. The muffled sounds of snoring echo within the spacious stone houses, and occasionally someone mutters in their sleep, producing deep, hearty laughter. They might be wandering sailors from the docks, dockworkers, gatekeepers of certain warehouses, or perhaps they are tough men making a living in the dock area. The muffled sounds of snoring echo within the spacious stone houses, and occasionally someone mutters in their sleep, producing deep, hearty laughter.

The group of pirates sitting in the corner excitedly whistled, while the other patrons in the tavern raised their voices in raucous chatter. The smell of alcohol and the buzz of conversation filled the air, making it increasingly foul.

On the wall behind the wine cabinet, which was covered in soot and dust, hung a portrait measuring two feet square. It depicted a burly man wearing a red cloth headscarf. His left arm was severed at the wrist, replaced by a sharp iron hook, while his right hand gripped a large cleaver. His left leg was amputated at the knee, fitted with a segment of an iron prosthetic. The man had a fierce expression, and perched atop his head was a colorful parrot. This burly man, wearing a red cloth headscarf, had his left arm severed at the wrist, replaced by a sharp iron hook, while his right hand gripped a large cleaver. His left leg was amputated at the knee, fitted with a segment of an iron prosthetic. The man had a fierce expression, and perched atop his head was a colorful parrot.

At that moment, a copper bell under the wine cabinet by the lame man's foot rang with a 'ding' sound

The person in the image is the first-generation owner of the Crippled Shop, who is also an ancestor of the Crippled lineage for several generations. There are legends that the first owner of the Crippled Shop was once a chieftain who roamed the three seas, but the Crippled has always told others that his ancestor came from a well-mannered scholarly family.

In the center of the tavern, there is a circular wooden platform where three scantily clad young women are energetically twisting their bodies. Dozens of red-faced men are dancing around the platform, excitedly shouting slogans, their strong feet pounding the rough stone floor, creating a synchronized "clap" sound. Occasionally, a few enthusiastic men pull shiny coins from their pockets and toss them onto the platform, prompting the three dancers to twist their bodies even more fervently. Their long hair swirls around them, and their crimson lips and sparkling eyes exude boundless heat. Their youthful, fiery bodies tremble, nearly causing the men to explode with excitement.

A highly profitable venture resulted in only one loss: their old comrade, Old Jack, who unfortunately was stabbed in the lower abdomen

Seated around the oak table are more than twenty burly men, all bare-chested, each with a rugged and savage appearance. Every one of them exudes a sense of bloodthirstiness and ferocity from their very bones. They laugh loudly, raising their glasses in unison while cheering joyfully. This is a group of thoroughgoing thugs, with every hair on their bodies branded with the word 'thug'.

The wine glasses clinked against each other, and the pungent cheap liquor spilled all over the table. The burly men drank to their heart's content, laughing and boasting about their recent 'big deal.' They unabashedly flaunted their exploits, and thus everyone in the tavern knew that they had just plundered a ship, killing everyone on board, and all the cargo had become their spoils.

May the late Old Jack rest in peace in hell

In front of the flat ground, directly facing the entrance of hetushu.com, stands a three-story stone building. Dim lights flicker within the stone structure, accentuating the somber and gloomy atmosphere of these few stone buildings. To the right of the stone building, there is a stone staircase that extends downward. Descending this staircase for several meters leads to an underground tavern

Descending the stone steps, I pushed open a heavy, ancient oak door, and a wave of heat and the scent of alcohol rushed towards me, nearly knocking me off my feet

From the narrow, muddy road, one ascends a few dilapidated steps to reach the main entrance of the tavern, which consists of two heavy stone slabs, covered in mottled paint and greasy dirt. On either side of the tavern door stand two large flower pots, each containing a few withered and dead saplings. A dead mouse is tied to a branch on the left, while the bones of a venomous snake hang from a branch on the right.

A sudden burst of hearty laughter erupted in the tavern. At a long oak table in the corner, a burly man with a black beard, wearing a black triangular hat adorned with a thumb-sized white skull badge, suddenly stood up with a smile, raising a wine cup in his hand that was as large as a human head.

In the northern part of Berlely, the vast Seine River flows silently. Thin ice collides across the river surface, which spans over ten miles, producing a barely audible crisp sound. Along the riverbank, dozens of artificial docks extend like arms; this is the dock area of northern Berlely, a chaotic region that instills fear in the law-abiding citizens of Berlely, a gathering place for all the rogues and villains.

At the northernmost part of the dock area, near the confluence of the Seine and Marne rivers, there stands an old tavern

To the right of the flat area is a livestock pen, where nearly one hundred cattle and horses are quietly standing, nibbling on the sparse dry grass. Nearby, a number of makeshift flatbed carts and four-wheeled horse-drawn carriages are haphazardly parked, along with a few inconspicuous yet meticulously crafted carriages that are made with high-quality materials and craftsmanship.

Behind the oak door is a spacious bar capable of accommodating hundreds of people. Against the western wall stands a row of liquor cabinets, behind which several flamboyantly dressed women are standing, laughing unabashedly. A group of drunken patrons is leaning on the liquor cabinets, equally brazenly flirting with those women

The three-story stone building on the ground is the inn attached to this tavern. As long as one can afford it, even a criminal wanted by the Empire can find their most comfortable refuge here. The underground tavern is the primary operating venue for the owner, and even though it is already late at night, the place remains brightly lit and bustling with voices.