The hour of Vespers.
As the bells of the Holy Fierce Sun Church tolled, Zorn walked out of the police station right on time, a wave of blistering heat rolling over him.
The July weather was now showing its characteristic sweltering heat.
Zorn's gaze casually swept across the street, pausing for a moment on a horse-drawn carriage on the opposite side.
He then headed toward a small alley not far away.
At the same time, the burly man in the carriage across the street adjusted his bowler hat.
Then, he slipped into a mirror hanging inside the carriage window.
"Mr. Demon, always so petty."
Zorn, having entered the alley, couldn't help but rub the bridge of his nose.
Soon, a figure leaped down from a window at the far end of the alley.
It was none other than the burly "Mr. Demon."
Without another word, he balled his fists and charged.
It was clear Mr. Demon wanted to save face; he was looking for a proper fight with a Fighting Master.
