Chapter 698: Planning the Plan

Emerald Palace, the barracks where the Star Lake Guard were stationed.

"I am begging you, Attendant Caso."

Komuto sat on his bunk with one arm wrapped in bandages, his expression helpless.

"Just let me go! I am not like them. I swear I have never used your name outside. It was all the other Wyas. Sorry, I mean, all the other people..."

Wya Caso, notebook in hand, darkened in the face.

It is fine.

It is all right.

Calm down.

"That is not what I am asking."

Wya squeezed out a social smile with difficulty.

"Please, Guard Officer Komuto, think carefully again. When you fought Lausanne II, did he..."

"No!"

"I have not even finished speaking. Then did you notice whether, in his movements, there were any subtle..."

"Also no!"

At that moment, a relaxed voice came from outside the door.

"What is going on?"

Komuto's eyes lit up as if he had been granted amnesty.

"That person, you came just in time! The prince's attendant has questions for you!"

Wya was startled, but Old Komuto ignored the injured arm hanging before his chest, sprang off the bunk with a whoosh, rushed out of the room, and disappeared into the corridor. His posture was as if the back kitchen had started serving food.

The attendant was speechless. He could only twitch his lips and turn toward the newcomer.

"Yes. I do have a few questions to ask... Oh. It is you. Then forget it."

With that, Wya shook his head and sighed, passing disappointedly by Doyle.

Danny Doyle had just returned from the dessert shop with a bag of almond pies. Originally full of spring cheer, he now looked puzzled. The hand offering a pie had only stretched halfway out before it lost its target, leaving him extremely awkward.

Wya walked toward a table. A broad, bandaged back sat beside it, carefully wiping a sword.

"Hey, Vanguard Officer Glover..."

The broad back paused.

"Once."

Glover, still recovering from his injuries, turned his head. The rag rubbed over the same spot on the blade dozens of times.

"I, hm, I did it once."

But only once.

Truly, only once.

"What? What did you do once?"

Wya was completely confused.

"Your name."

My name?

Wya was stunned for a second before reacting.

"What? You? You too? Why you? How could it be you? I do not understand. Others are one thing, but why would even you..."

As he spoke, Glover's expression grew colder and stiffer. Wya realized something and hurriedly shut his mouth.

No, no, no, Wya Caso, no. This is not what you came to ask. Not this.

And you do not care at all. You should not care. It is only a name. How big a matter could it be?

Mm. Right. Right. Do not care.

Do not care.

Wya took a deep breath, calmed himself, and asked politely with his notebook in hand:

"Sorry, Vanguard Officer Garen Glover. May I borrow a few seconds of your time to ask a few questions?"

Glover's gaze sharpened.

"If it truly is a few seconds."

"Then... what about a few minutes?"

"No."

Zombie was crisp and decisive, making Wya's expression collapse.

"Then... for the sake of you having used my name?"

Glover's wiping stopped.

Zombie said nothing. He merely slowly raised his head and looked toward Wya.

His movement was slow yet extremely oppressive. Together with his stiff face and dead eyes, it made one's heart inexplicably panic.

Strange.

Why is this big fellow looking at me like that?

Clearly...

Why does it feel like I am the one in the wrong?

Several seconds passed. Under that stare, Wya felt his heart grow weak. Unable to endure it, he finally smiled awkwardly.

"All right, fine. Then, hm, perhaps next time. Next time, hah..."

Glover watched coldly as Wya left. From an angle no one could see, he secretly let out a breath and began wiping his sword again.

Good.

Passed again.

No need to apologize.

But as soon as Wya left, a large bag of almond pies landed on the table.

"Hey, what's wrong with the real Wya?"

Doyle, utterly without guilt under Glover's death stare, bit into a pie and plopped himself down. He did not forget to take another one from the bag.

"No idea."

Glover stared at Doyle for a long while before finally sighing inwardly and reluctantly accepting the almond pie passed to him.

"It has been several days. Whenever he has free time, he grabs people and asks questions. Asking once is not enough either. He changes methods and asks back and forth."

He frowned and looked into the distance.

Ralf sat on a crate in the corner, clanging as he repaired his battle-use right-leg prosthesis, which was covered in wear marks. Wya carefully came before him and coughed.

Ralf did not even raise his head. He only snorted.

What is this self-important young master doing now?

Here to collect debts?

Wya's smile was bright.

"Hey, Ralf, old friend. You performed well yesterday. How is your leg?"

As soon as he finished speaking, there was a crack. Ralf's badly worn battle prosthesis suddenly snapped at the joint and fell to the floor.

A metal locking piece even bounced out from inside the prosthesis and rolled across the floor with a ding-ding-dong-dong.

Ralf raised his head and looked coldly at Wya, making several gestures.

[What do you think?]

Wya looked at the scene awkwardly and blinked.

"Looks like you may need to use that old cold leg again... Right, I have a question I want to ask..."

Before he finished, Ralf grabbed the prosthesis, snorted coldly, turned in another direction, and faced the wall.

He left only his back to Wya.

The attendant stood there foolishly, not yet managing to close his mouth.

"You may not want to bother him right now, real Wya."

Doyle called out happily, waving his pie at Wya and Ralf.

"As for Mute yesterday, mm, he met with some matters and acquired certain hard-to-cut attachments."

Hard-to-cut attachments?

Wya froze.

In the next second, Ralf abruptly turned his head.

What?

How did he...

Ralf first looked at Doyle in disbelief, then realized something. He looked toward Glover and, shocked and furious, raised his middle finger.

[Fuck you, you motherfucking mouthless secret-leaking shit Zombie, may you have bugs in your food, no hole when you shit, no parents while alive and no sons after death, deservedly orphaned and fucked dry by others...]

Glover froze and instinctively shook his head.

"No, I did not! It was not me! I did not say it! I do not know anyth... Fuck! Fuck you, Ralf!"

His heart was full of injustice, but he had no idea how to defend himself. In the end, he could only glare with incomparable resentment at Doyle, who looked pleased with himself and utterly unaware.

"Hard-to-cut attachments? What does that mean?"

Wya suspiciously watched the gestures and replies around the room, completely confused.

Zombie and Mute both froze.

Ralf swallowed, his breathing quickening.

Glover frowned hard, gripping the rag tighter and tighter.

"Ah, it is this obvious and you cannot see it?"

Guard Officer Doyle cheerfully pointed at Ralf's prosthesis.

"His fake leg! Look, attachment, connection, lingering ties like lotus roots broken but strands still connected. Oh, now it is broken, haha. Is that not a hard-to-cut attachment?"

His words fell.

Thud.

Ralf's other prosthesis landed heavily on the floor.

Mute coldly stared at Doyle, his face displeased.

Glover's gaze also grew more terrifying.

Wya felt he had heard a terrible joke, and looked at Doyle with boredom and helplessness.

"Uh, right. Sorry."

Sensing that something was wrong, Doyle put away his smile and instinctively shrank back, biting into his pie as he looked at everyone.

"I mean, it is not as if even leg jokes are forbidden, right? I was not deliberately mocking- Mmmph mmmph, yes, sorry..."

Before he could finish, Glover abruptly stood, seized two pies, and pressed them fiercely into Doyle's mouth.

"Mmmph, Zombie, don't, mmmph, I didn't even mmmph say you..."

"Why is he so energetic today?"

Wya ignored the inhuman scene across from him, pulled out a chair, set down his notebook, and stretched his chest.

"Mmmph, I really was mmmph joking, why mmmph..."

[Because he is an idiot.]

Ralf gestured coldly.

"Because he got his little bedside bear back."

Glover resentfully released his hand, letting the painfully coughing Doyle go.

"Also, Lord Mallos is still bedridden at this moment."

"Oh."

Wya placed his notebook on the table, suddenly understanding.

"What did you write in there?"

A woman's voice came from the side.

Everyone turned together. A vigorous figure walked toward them.

"Mira!"

Doyle swallowed a mouthful of pie, hurriedly stood, and opened his arms in delighted surprise.

"Is this not my lifesaver, the Northland's Winterless Sword, the invincible steel woman warrior, brave and fearless good girl Mira?"

Miranda, long accustomed to the atmosphere of the guard, did not even raise her head. She walked past the disappointed Doyle as if he were invisible, casually taking a pie along the way, then sat beside Wya and turned her gaze toward the notebook on the table.

"Nothing, Lady Arunde."

Wya shook his head and opened the notebook.

"Only some... summary records."

"Call me by name directly. After all, we learned under Teacher Shatiel together."

Miranda's black gloves were gone, replaced by tightly wrapped bandages.

"Summary records of what?"

That is even worse. Would I not have to call you Chief Miranda?

Wya silently complained.

"And we are good comrades too, Mira, remember?"

Doyle tried hard to squeeze into the conversation.

"For you, I fought Lausanne II for three hundred-"

"I recorded some suspicious points in several matters."

Wya ignored the noise Doyle made, flipped open a page, and pushed it in front of Miranda.

"For example, this. Lausanne II's skill."

Glover, wiping his sword, frowned.

"What about his skill?"

"Simply put, his strength fluctuated wildly. Sometimes he was so strong that dozens surrounding him could do nothing to him. Sometimes even Doyle could fight him evenly."

"Hey, manners!"

Doyle protested unhappily.

"He was hiding his strength."

Miranda carefully looked at the notes, her tone certain.

"I fought him twice. The first time, I only felt that he was a strong one among transcendents. But the second time..."

She pinched her bandaged hand, thoughtful.

"Is that so? But why? A supreme-class expert hiding his strength?"

Wya was puzzled.

"Because he is like His Highness."

Everyone turned together to look at Doyle.

"During martial arts class, His Highness's Power of Eradication, that 'great wave on the sea,' is quite intimidating in the first few moves, proper and decent. But once time is up, he falls to the ground rolling his eyes and laughing, with only enough strength left to pant."

Doyle gestured hard.

"That Lausanne is probably the same as His Highness. Strength with a time limit. That is why he seems strong sometimes and weak at others, you know?"

"Do not let His Highness hear that."

Wya nervously looked around.

"Then he should be strong first and weak later."

Glover disagreed.

"Not like Lausanne, weak first and strong later."

"Then it is the reverse. He is usually very weak," Doyle said with a wild imagination, "and can only become strong when some condition is met, like taking drugs?"

Everyone looked at one another. In the end, no one had an answer.

"Then there is this."

Wya flipped to the next page.

"According to everyone's recollections, as well as Commander Mallos' judgment afterward, there was something very strange about Lausanne."

"Isn't Terror Blade still bedridden? You could still ask questions?"

Doyle was shocked.

"Yes. I asked when I went to visit him."

"Impressive. You even dared to disturb him."

Doyle raised a thumb.

"I also visited Terror Blade just now and even brought a gift, but his attitude..."

"His Lordship told him to get out."

Glover exposed him from the side, unsurprisingly earning Doyle's indignant gaze.

"You mean," Miranda said, focused on Wya's neat notes and cutting them back to the topic, "Lausanne II's injuries?"

Wya nodded.

"At Diop's residence, he was hit by Young Master Bozdorf's arrow and fled in a hurry. But when he appeared the next day at the dock warehouse and fought Mute and Vanguard Officer Glover, he was not affected at all. He did not look injured."

Glover and Ralf frowned together.

Miranda's gaze focused.

"And after taking the guard's siege only a few hours later, he was still nimble. No injury could be seen. His endurance was even astonishing, and after a long bitter battle, his strength showed no sign of declining."

Wya nodded.

"So either I made a mistake while organizing information from everyone's experiences, or..."

"It may be some sort of drug that temporarily concealed his pain."

Glover guessed:

"I know a marvelous Sael herb. Including its close relatives, it has been made into illegal drugs by apothecaries. It can numb pain without affecting movement, and can also make the spirit excited..."

"How do you know that?"

Wya asked strangely.

"I have seen people use that drug before."

Glover was unwilling to discuss it further and turned to the side.

"Mute, when that assassin chased out of the sewer, his mental state really was different. Overexcited, talking nonsense, right?"

Ralf in the corner did not answer. Only his expression grew more serious.

"Or he has a special Power of Eradication that can heal wounds in an extremely short time."

Miranda pondered.

"When I was at the Tower of Eradication, I heard there were precedents like this in the Miracle line."

"That possibility cannot be excluded."

Wya immediately began recording.

At that moment, a worried voice sounded from beside them.

"Anomalous Descent."

Everyone shivered and turned together.

Doyle looked uneasy.

"It was Anomalous Descent."

"Ano... what descent?"

Wya exchanged suspicious glances with the others and pursued the question without much confidence.

"Anomalous Descent. You have never heard of it?"

Doyle returned to himself and looked at everyone in disbelief.

Everyone shook their heads together.

"I heard it from Toledo. Well, actually, I tricked it out of him when he let something slip. Do not tell anyone."

Doyle, rare seriousness on his face, made a gesture for everyone to gather close.

"According to him, when you were surrounding Lausanne II, he was conducting an evil god's Anomalous Descent. All life within ten li was sucked dry. No grass grew, and nothing survived!"

Doyle's tone was quite mysterious, making people uneasy.

The gathered group looked at one another.

But after thinking it over, Wya could not help speaking.

"Nothing survived... Then how did Commander Mallos and the others, including His Highness, survive?"

Doyle waved unhappily, as if blaming him for interrupting.

"Listen to me. That was Anomalous Descent, Anomalous Descent! Fanatical cultists perform forbidden blood sacrifices of living souls, drawing power from crooked evil paths. Terrifying and cruel. Of course things like making the dead live and flesh grow on bones are nothing difficult. But the price is unimaginable. Perhaps every time, they must sacrifice a living person, drink blood, eat flesh, peel skin, gnaw bones..."

Everyone was silent for a while, then retreated in tacit unison.

"Lunatic."

Glover was disdainful.

"Superstition."

Wya twitched his lips and shook his head.

"Hmph."

Ralf looked contemptuous.

"Next."

Miranda could not be bothered to listen further.

"Hey, a lot of people in the South Coast believe in this sinister stuff. Do not disbelieve it. Then how do you explain Lausanne II?"

Doyle grew anxious.

But Wya had already flipped to the next page.

"Then there is his ability. Although Lausanne II was defeated, we still did not understand how it worked. According to Mute, abilities that affect the mind are quite rare..."

"Temporal perception."

"What?"

Wya looked toward Miranda, who had suddenly spoken.

"There is an old gardener at Cold Castle. He is very old, confused, and can no longer recognize people properly. He always mistakes me for my grandmother."

Miranda recalled:

"He complains to me about my uncles' generation, as if they are still children."

"I know. My great-aunt had symptoms like that before she passed away," Doyle said. "She would think she was still young and always mistake me for my grandfather, crying and asking me to marry her instead of her elder sister."

"Wow."

Wya was incredulous.

"Your grandfather truly was... uh, fortunate?"

"That is because you did not know my grandfather," Doyle sighed. "Believe me, the one truly fortunate for not marrying and starting a family with him was my great-aunt."

"Many people become senile and confused when old, feeling that they are still young," Miranda said.

"I am good at this. I do not even need to wait until I am old."

Doyle said happily:

"Every morning when I open my eyes, I feel I am still eighteen..."

"Eight."

Glover snorted disdainfully.

"After all, the first thing you see when you open your eyes is a stuffed bear."

Doyle closed his mouth awkwardly and offered him a pie.

"In short, these old people's cognition of memory has gone wrong. They cannot distinguish which memories are the past and which are the present."

"Which means..."

Wya seemed to understand.

Miranda nodded and continued:

"Lausanne II's ability was not creating illusions or hallucinated scenes. It was briefly confusing memory, disturbing our temporal perception, our perception of chronological order, causing us to forget the present and think we were still living in the past."

"Like dreaming?"

Doyle asked.

"People have some awareness when they dream. They vaguely know that it is false, that it is a dream."

Miranda shook her head.

"But in his ability, you cannot tell. Because those are our memories. They are scenes that truly happened, certain beyond doubt, without a flaw. That is why we believe them completely and cannot free ourselves."

Hearing this, everyone fell silent together.

Our memories.

Scenes that truly happened.

Believe them completely, unable to free ourselves.

"Fuck him!"

Glover slammed the table fiercely.

"No need. He is already dead."

Doyle breathed out, unhappy.

"Lady Arunde, how did you see this?"

Wya asked in puzzlement.

"His Highness said it. I do not know why, but he seemed extremely certain that this was related to time."

Miranda also shook her head.

"The rest was my own inference. My Power of Eradication has a special understanding of human perception."

"As expected of His Highness."

Wya sighed, his tone full of admiration and helplessness.

"And you, Lady. Truly worthy of being a chief seed."

"As expected of the prince."

Doyle also folded his arms with a serious look.

"And you, Mira, worthy of being a seed chief."

Ralf in the corner twitched his lips disdainfully.

Glover looked at the two of them with a strange expression. After holding it in for a while, he said softly:

"Uh, that. Right."

Please. Chief has nothing to do with this.

Miranda raised an eyebrow, resisting the urge to complain and roll her eyes, and turned to the next page of the notebook.

"According to Lord Mallos' and Vanguard Officer Glover's recollections," Wya returned to himself, "Lausanne II's ability appeared chaotic and disorderly in both activation timing and sustained effect, even difficult to control. This is completely incompatible with his exquisite, precise, and unmatched swordsmanship. And according to His Highness, Lausanne's swordsmanship and ability could not work at the same time. Once he began fighting and his attention was divided, his ability weakened..."

"Indeed. Exquisite swordsmanship, chaotic and difficult-to-control ability, yet the two cannot coexist. In him, they seem full of contradictions."

Miranda pondered.

"What does that mean?"

Doyle was confused.

"When you go to battle, would you carry two weapons that repel each other? Especially when you can only choose one at the same time?"

Glover asked coldly.

"Is that not normal? Swordsmanship is trained by yourself, but ability is innate."

Doyle chewed his pie.

"Like me. Handsome, graceful, extraordinary bearing, yet my parents gave me a plain and ordinary name."

Everyone covered their faces at the same time and gave helpless groans.

"Teacher Shatiel said that a warrior's method of combat, style, Power of Eradication, weapon, and even ability, even personality, should all be unified and coordinated. The Heart of the Sword must never leave the root of the sword."

Wya thought aloud.

"The higher a realm one wants to reach, the more this must be so. Otherwise, it is difficult to shape a powerful warrior."

"Old Joaquin did not say that."

Doyle said awkwardly.

"He said one must study many schools and train in many arts, taking opponents as mirrors, in order to finally see oneself."

"That is not actually contradictory," Wya said. "Speaking of that, that fellow came from the same teacher as you. Do you have any new information to offer?"

"Yes."

Doyle was utterly unashamed.

"He is dead."

Everyone sighed together.

"Speaking of that, this point also puzzles me. Why did Lausanne II hide his identity?"

Wya picked up his pen.

"That is easy to understand. Who dares do bad things openly..."

"No. More than that. According to my investigation..."

Wya flipped to another page.

"When he caught up to you in the sewer, because of that female gang leader, his identity had already been called out. He had been recognized as the Blood Bottle Gang's former assassin."

"Yet he still carefully covered his face. Even when his mask broke, he put it back on again, as though he feared being recognized in public."

Glover remembered something.

"Why?"

"Is it possible he was not actually Lausanne?"

Miranda asked.

"Only borrowing Lausanne II's name? And beneath that mask was someone else?"

"I do not think Catherine would mistake him. She is, after all, a boss of one side."

Glover shook his head.

"In short, there are too many points of doubt on this man. Peel away one layer and there is another beneath it."

Wya's brows furrowed tightly.

"There are too many things I still cannot understand."

"No matter what, he is dead."

Doyle, however, was perfectly at ease.

"With such a powerful close-range explosion, even if he was lucky enough to survive, his skin would be charred, his flesh cooked, his arms and legs missing. He would not breathe for many more days."

Everyone still felt lingering fear and nodded silently.

"What is this page? A map?"

"Correct. I asked someone at the Security Hall to get it. A jurisdiction map of Jade City."

Wya took a map from the notebook and spread it out for everyone.

"Here, here, and here. These are all areas where the Blood Bottle Gang was attacked in the past few weeks. Based on the intelligence Vanguard Officer Glover obtained while undercover, then cross-checking it with Security Hall documents, I tried to circle the sites of the incidents and match them with times, then reverse-infer the rough numbers and even hiding places of the attackers, very likely Lausanne II and his accomplices. But..."

"But what?"

Wya hesitated for several seconds and pointed at several red dots on the map.

"Connecting the Blood Bottle Gang attacks together does indeed form a circle covering a small half of Jade City. But the distribution is uneven. For example, here, Harvest Casino was attacked several times and at least six gang members died. This underground black-fist arena too. Every week, fighters who were alone disappeared..."

"Those are Gamandia and Gutierrez's businesses. Two ruthless characters."

Glover gritted his teeth.

Wya continued:

"But within the same radius, here, Theater Street, which does flesh business, has been singing and dancing in peace. Not a single attack happened. And here, the paper mills and weaving mills protected by the Blood Bottle Gang are also peaceful."

"That is Frango and Jaga's territory. No need to worry. They are already dead."

Glover snorted.

"In short, this large circle, the area involved in these attacks, is uneven in thickness. Like, like..."

Wya pointed at the large circle he had drawn on the map, hesitating.

"Like someone eating a pie without paying attention," Doyle had a sudden idea. "A spoon here, a fork there, dug full of pits and holes?"

"Uh, yes?"

Wya forced himself to say.

Everyone frowned together.

"Because Lausanne II was not attacking randomly, but with plan and direction. Under Catherine, leaders like Gamandia and Gutierrez were key targets, to stir up their dissatisfaction. At the same time, the other half of the leaders, like Frango and Jaga, were deliberately spared. Favoring one side over the other, to incite conflict between the leaders."

Glover spoke coldly:

"We all saw the result. Gang members who suffered too much damage were full of resentment. Under the Red Viper and the Wanderer's incitement, they fought those gang members who were enjoying peace and benefits without doing anything. Catherine was overthrown."

The others could not insert themselves into this topic. Wya could only nod.

"Perhaps."

Wya thought of something and turned to another page.

"But speaking of the Phantom Blade Catherine, Vanguard Officer Glover and Mute said you escaped together into a remote sewer, a place even Jade City's officials did not know, beyond the reach of the Blood Bottle Gang, dark, narrow, and labyrinth-like. But if even the Blood Bottle Gang did not know that place, how did Lausanne II find you?"

"Could there have been an insider who sold your position to him?"

"Catherine said the Blood Bottle Gang has people who specifically train hunting dogs and are especially good at tracking."

Glover pondered for a while.

"And we had just carved a bloody road out of the warehouse conflict. We were filthy all over and could not wash it off."

"That still does not make sense. If he truly used the Blood Bottle Gang's hunting dogs to track you, then why was he the only one who appeared in the end, with no other gang members?"

"Because his ability does not distinguish friend from foe."

Miranda guessed.

"Besides, with his skill, bringing more people would only be a burden."

"Because he did not want more people to know what he was doing? And he also did not trust his own gang members, or rather, former gang members?"

Doyle rarely said something that did not make everyone frown and groan.

Wya pondered for a while.

"Then that leads to the next question. If Lausanne II returned to Jade City to take revenge for what happened back then, then..."

"What exactly happened in the Blood Bottle Gang back then?"

Miranda took over.

"What did it have to do with Catherine, to make Lausanne II so angry, and yet so patient, waiting all these years before returning here for revenge?"

"That Catherine, where did she go afterward?"

Wya was slightly distracted.

"I need to meet her once and ask about some doubts."

"His Highness let her go," Miranda answered. "She could not come back to Emerald Palace with us. As for where she went, probably only His Highness knows."

"And with that woman's personality..."

Glover snorted and looked toward Ralf.

"I fear she will not be willing to accept things, nor will she settle down."

Wya was silent for a while.

"Then what about that defense lawyer? If I can ask him..."

"You cannot," Glover said. "He was frightened stupid. Mentally abnormal. He calls everyone wife. Of course, His Highness instructed that the external story is unanimous: he is already dead."

"Really? Are you certain? Is there truly not even a little reason left in him? Even a little?"

Ralf shook his head.

Wya still would not give up.

"Then his wife? Are there any clues..."

"We investigated. His wife is mentally unstable, mad and muddled, and has been kept in the countryside. It is said that she was under too much pressure from many years of childlessness."

Miranda shook her head.

"Over the years, people often advised him to divorce and remarry, but he refused every time."

Doyle frowned.

"Sounds like a devoted good man."

"Good man?"

Glover shook his head disdainfully.

"Hmph."

"Then how did you settle him afterward?"

"The old place. I mean the sewer," Glover said. "After going mad, he seems very suited to that place. At least he gets along very well with a certain stupid, deformed big fellow."

Everyone fell silent.

Miranda sighed.

"What a pity. Among so many silencing cases Duke Zayen covered up, I originally thought he would be the breakthrough."

Wya also nodded regretfully, but his tone turned.

"But it is not without clues. Look here."

Wya turned the notebook to a page far toward the back. On it was a long, hand-drawn table after table.

"These victims. Dagori Moss was a merchant and also a white glove, responsible for earning money and business intelligence. Diop managed secret accounts and was responsible for liaising with off-system lackeys like the Blood Bottle Gang. Jeff Rene was the former Security Chief. Srimanny also worked at the Security Hall and is now a defense lawyer for Jade City's powerful figures... I found that these four people have something in common."

Doyle looked dizzy.

"Uh, they are all men?"

Wya's expression paused.

"They are all rich?"

"They are all bald?"

Miranda sighed. As expected of Cohen's relative.

Wya was helpless. He tapped the notebook with his pen.

"Be serious. These four people all worked for Jade City, or rather for Emerald Palace. At least, they can be connected to it."

Doyle scratched his head.

"His Highness said that already. Their positions were special. The reason they had to die was to attack Emerald Palace."

Wya nodded.

"And they are all people with status and reputation. Their careers, even if not exactly prosperous, were at least smooth sailing."

Miranda's eyes moved.

"That leads to the next question," Wya said. "According to what you said, before Srimanny died, oh, before he went mad, he once told His Highness that there was another person silenced these days, but that person was an underground fighter who fought black-fist matches?"

Glover frowned.

"Correct."

Doyle scratched his chin, trying hard to look like he was participating in the conversation.

"A black-fist thug..."

"From the previous four people with status and reputation to this underground fighter... The difference in status is too large. Who exactly was this fighter?"

Miranda was sharp.

"After His Highness returned, he had us investigate. I only just obtained the list today of all underground fighters who went missing during Blood Bottle Gang attacks in the past two months. There are over a dozen. Basically all cannot be separated from the Blood Bottle Gang, but I do not know which one it is. Still completely lost."

Wya shrugged.

"We can go find Gutierrez of the Blood Bottle Gang. The black-fist arena is his place."

Glover snorted.

"Tie him up, and let good-tempered Morgan ask him a few questions."

"Good idea," Wya nodded. "Unfortunately, the Blood Bottle Gang just went through internal fighting. It will definitely not be easy to act now."

"And do not forget, Duke Zayen must be extremely displeased about yesterday's matters. He is now watching every move we make like a hawk."

Miranda said.

"Prince Thales personally went out to deal with him. It will definitely be fine."

Doyle finally found a familiar topic.

"There is one more point..."

Wya continued speaking. Before anyone realized it, everyone was listening seriously.

"According to what you said, Defense Lawyer Srimanny, although respected, was a coward who fainted at the sight of weapons."

"At least before going mad, yes," Glover confirmed.

"Then why was he so gutsy? Knowing that there might be problems behind so many murder cases, why did he still have the courage to continue investigating, until someone noticed him and endangered his life?"

"Was it because he remembered the old kindness of his superior? That dead former Security Chief, Jeff Rene?"

"Kindness? I do not think so."

Glover shook his head in denial.

"Professional instinct?"

Doyle shrugged.

"A defense lawyer. My family has many lawsuits, so I have dealt with people like that often."

"Because he was cowardly."

Miranda suddenly spoke, drawing everyone's attention.

"How so?"

Miranda raised her head, her gaze sharp.

"Precisely because Srimanny had a guilty conscience and feared death, after seeing those murder cases, he was afraid that the next one to die would be him. That is why he wanted to investigate clearly, to set his mind at ease."

Everyone froze.

"That ironic? Because he was afraid of death, he investigated, and investigated, and ended up getting himself killed?"

Doyle was puzzled.

"Is this some sort of dramatic self-fulfilling prophecy?"

Glover asked.

But Miranda remained silent, thinking.

Several seconds later, Wya's expression changed as he reacted.

"I understand. The key here is: why would Srimanny feel guilty after seeing those murder cases? Why would he think he would be next to die?"

Miranda nodded and spoke decisively:

"Because he was originally one of them."

"One of what? What one?"

Doyle was completely confused.

"One of the people being silenced! They, Moss, Diop, Rene, Srimanny, plus that black-fist fighter, the five of them, they are not isolated. Their successive deaths were not to provoke us and Emerald Palace."

The more Wya spoke, the more shocked he became.

"On the contrary, they must have some internal connection. Perhaps they were members of the same secret society. Perhaps they were all involved in a certain secret. Perhaps they all knew a certain person. Perhaps they even once did the same thing..."

Miranda raised her head, her tone certain.

"And very likely, that is the reason these people had to be silenced, and why information had to be covered even after their deaths."

Everyone shivered together.

"I... I need to find time to speak again with that local city hall clerk."

Wya lost himself in thought, his face grave.

"I need more detailed resumes for these dead people... more information."

He stood and was about to walk out, but Miranda stopped him.

"Wya. All these records in your notebook, all these suspicious points, all these... details."

Miranda narrowed her eyes.

"You discovered them and wrote them down one by one?"

"Yes."

Wya returned to himself and smiled with difficulty.

"Unlike His Highness and you, Lady Arunde, my mind is slow and my reactions are dull. I can only use this stupid method. If there is something I do not understand, I write it down to remind myself of these clues."

Ralf snorted inwardly in the corner.

You should see his room. The walls are covered with paper, sheet after sheet, filled with words and charts of all colors. Even the ceiling has them.

Miranda examined him for a long while.

"I know. My strength is limited."

Wya was very uncomfortable under her stare and smiled bitterly.

"I am not as fortunate as you, able to use sword and battle to relieve His Highness' worries, risking life and death..."

"I will give you this fortune. I do not want it."

Doyle immediately raised his hand.

"...And the tasks the commander assigned me are the easiest, most boring, and least valuable. Borrowing my father's position and reputation to curry favor with all sorts of officials..."

"Easiest?"

Glover twitched his lips.

Wya spread his hands.

"In short, I can only make whatever contribution I can within my ability."

"No. You are very impressive, Attendant."

The female swordswoman praised him.

"I know why Shatiel accepted you as a student."

Wya was flattered and a little embarrassed.

"Worthy of being the son of the Sly Fox."

Glover's words made Wya's smile stiffen slightly.

"No. My stepmother dealt with Count Caso. She said he was naturally sharp, able to perceive the smallest things, and was a rare genius."

Doyle flipped through the notebook, looking at the beautiful handwriting he could not produce even over ten lifetimes, shocked and uncertain.

"But looking at this, Wya, you absolutely cannot be a genius."

Everyone, Wya included, froze at once.

"Uh, manners?"

Glover said softly.

"Because you are Wya."

Doyle put down the notebook, giving up on the idea that maybe he could do this too, and sighed.

"The real Wya, unlike any other Wya."

As soon as he said this, Wya's expression changed.

The others instinctively turned their heads.

Glover frowned and forced himself to say:

"Manners?"

But unexpectedly, after freezing for a long while, Wya suddenly smiled.

He took a deep breath, sincere and calm.

"Thank you, Guard Officer Doyle."

"These discoveries of yours, these points of doubt," Miranda asked, "have you reported them to His Highness?"

"No, not yet. There has not been time."

Wya shook his head.

"Time was tight, Lord Mallos is bedridden, and His Highness has been very busy these days. He already has enough things to worry about."

"Such as running away from home to date his fiancee?"

Miranda rarely teased anyone. Everyone laughed.

"Do not mention that."

Doyle sighed in pain.

"When I returned to the theater yesterday to take over the shift, the most painful thing was explaining to that Kaquere, who was responsible for monitoring the prince, that the prince had not disappeared and was only playing lovers' hide-and-seek with Miss Covendier..."

Wya remembered something and suddenly turned, startling everyone.

"What is it?"

"I remember now."

Wya stared blankly.

"His Highness said Srimanny went to the theater yesterday to look for this person you mentioned, Security Officer Kaquere."

"So?"

Doyle did not understand.

Wya's face grew increasingly solemn.

"So, if the defense lawyer truly was 'one of them,' and after seeing the murders he became suspicious and wanted to investigate, then what channel would he use?"

Miranda's eyes moved.

"More than that. When that wine merchant was murdered before, it was this Kaquere who took me and Lady Arunde to the prison to inspect it."

Glover's expression cooled.

"And he was glib-tongued, shirking and pushing away responsibility, telling us the wine merchant had been killed by enemies hiring murderers."

"The defense lawyer would not go to him without reason. This local security officer must know something, perhaps precisely the reason these dead people were silenced."

Miranda frowned.

"I will report directly to Prince Thales."

Wya nodded.

"Today is the selection meeting of the Emerald Celebration. Kaquere, as usual, will guide and accompany the prince throughout."

"I will go see if Commander Mallos is awake."

Miranda thought.

"He needs to know this."

On the other side, Glover's eyes glinted fiercely.

"Then I will find a few big fellows, Morgan or Bastia, and get a sack to bag him-"

"Wait! That security officer is Emerald Palace's man. We cannot just kidnap and interrogate him like this!"

Doyle grabbed Zombie.

"We have to do something!"

Zombie was displeased.

"Hey, Zombie, you do not understand. Privately kidnapping people for nobles and such, that is an excellent tra- cough, specialty of our Guard Wing."

Doyle carefully looked around, blinked, and revealed an evil smile.

"Who still uses sacks nowadays? Listen to me. We need to properly, hehe, plan the plan?"

Plan the plan.

Wya and Miranda looked at each other, their expressions strange, but they still nodded.

Everyone stood and took their own duties.

"Who would have thought?"

Doyle looked at Wya, who was adding something to his notebook, and whispered to Glover:

"Real Wya has this ability."

"Everyone has their strengths."

Zombie was concise.

"And you? How did you get along with that mute yesterday?"

Doyle pointed at Ralf in the distance.

"You two were gesturing quite warmly today..."

Glover's expression changed.

"Bah. I did not die at his hands, so that already counts as the Bright God having spirit, the Sacred Sun showing itself, and Sunset blessing me."

Zombie said viciously:

"That sheep-fucking, dog-born idiot who plays with wind-"

"Eh?"

Doyle widened his eyes.

"What now?"

"You have changed."

"What changed?"

"No, I suddenly realized you seem much more cheerful."

Doyle was pleasantly surprised.

"Compared with before, your temper is better, you talk more, and even the sentences you say are a lot longer?"

What?

Cheerful?

Glover froze stiffly.

"And you do not seem to reject me calling you Zombie anymore?"

After several seconds of stunned silence, Glover's expression changed violently.

"Hmph!"

He snorted furiously, punched the table, and stormed out with a sweep of his sleeve.

"Hey, do not go."

Doyle could not catch up.

"Were we not still planning the kidnapping..."

At that moment, there was a muffled bang. The room door was suddenly pushed open.

Several people were startled at once. Glover even raised his longsword.

"Standard Officer Fubi's order! Everyone, those on rotation, return to your posts immediately. Those on duty, extend your shifts. As for the wounded, as long as your fingers can still move, gather and set out immediately..."

The person who barged in was Guard Officer Komuto. He was panting and extremely anxious.

"Today, the prince is attending the selection meeting. We protect him throughout the entire process. Highest alert!"

Only then did Wya and the others relax.

"But the selection meeting begins in the afternoon. To start now... is that not a bit early?"

Wya asked in confusion.

"Highest alert?"

Glover did not understand.

"Correct. Because something major just happened!"

Komuto was terribly anxious, making everyone tense.

"This very morning, an official in Jade City was killed!"

Everyone was shocked.

"Another one?"

Glover sheathed his sword.

"Six people. Six lives."

Wya gripped his notebook tightly.

"I heard his head was separated from his body and his death was horrifying. The whole city is in an uproar, and even the Jade Legion has moved out. There is no time. Hurry up!"

Komuto added urgently.

Everyone instinctively moved. Only Miranda frowned.

"Then why are you so nervous? Why even the wounded..."

"Because malicious rumors have spread through the city!"

Komuto gnashed his teeth.

"They say the person behind the killing is Prince Thales!"

At that moment, everyone froze completely.

The room was silent.

"No way. Again?"

Wya remembered something, unable to believe it.

With a clang, Ralf stepped down on uneven metal prostheses. Limping yet cold-faced, he grabbed his weapon and walked out.

"Why? Why is the rumor spreading like that?"

Miranda suddenly had an ominous premonition.

"Who exactly is the dead man?"

Komuto let out a long sigh.

"An old acquaintance. The special security officer Emerald Palace sent to handle His Highness' security, the one who has accompanied him throughout these days."

Everyone's breath caught.

"Kaquere."

Smack.

The bag of pies on the table fell to the floor.

"I, I just, that..."

The still-shocked crowd turned their heads together.

Doyle was holding the last surviving almond pie, staring at everyone in dumbfounded disbelief.

"It really was only planning the plan!"