Chapter 702: Major Matter

"Oh! Now that was truly brutal! Blood pouring like a fountain. It must hurt... Yet even after heavily injuring his opponent, Baligo is not rushing. He remains cautious, not lowering his shield or spear, but slowly pacing, circling closer to his opponent... Oh! Beautiful defense there. Baligo returns without success... Wait! Baligo was only luring the enemy just now. Now comes the real... Ow! I would not want to take that hit. It looks far too painful... Ah! Another turn and another strike! Gentlemen, remember to cover your ladies' eyes. This scene is not suitable for helping anyone sleep... Still not surrendering? If it were me, I would surrender before I lost too much blood... Yes, yes! The opponent has thrown down his weapon. He is raising his hand in surrender! The battle is over! The referee, doctors, and stretcher team have rushed in... Helpless, perhaps unwilling, somewhat despairing, but absolutely worth it. After all, no matter how generous the prize money, one must first be alive to enjoy it!"

The sun sank westward, sunset clouds filling the sky. In the arena, dozens of one-on-one duels had been fought. Even the loud-voiced host on the hosting platform had been changed twice. The successive duels dazzled the spectators and made them shout that it was satisfying. Only when people lit Everlasting Lamps and torches burned in the field, illuminating the entire arena as bright as day, did the selection meeting finally decide its final top eight.

In the field, the warrior illuminated by the Everlasting Lamps raised long spear and sturdy shield, roaring toward the sky.

"Everyone, the winner of this duel, and therefore the final member of the selection meeting's top eight, is the warrior from the Barren Mountains across the sea, Azayin Courage-Gathering Baligo!"

The host's voice, through the specially made speaking tube and relying also on the arena's circular layout, spread to every part of the venue, stirring up a wave of enthusiastic cheers from the spectators.

"Listen to the cheers of the whole venue. Even the Everlasting Lamps are trembling! You can see people love Baligo to death. They call him the Barren Mountain Rapids, because a fight with him is guaranteed never to be boring!"

The messengers specially recruited for the selection meeting hurried back and forth between the stands and inside and outside the venue, passing information about battle conditions, rankings, matches, and so on. Before long, louder and greater, though more blurred, cheers or boos came from outside the field. In places even farther away within the city, people even set off fireworks, lighting up the newly darkened night sky.

"This Baligo truly has something real under his hands."

Doyle stood in the passage below the duke's stand, holding paper and pen, looking at the Barren Mountain man in the field, covered in blood and roaring with spear raised. He nodded slightly.

"He cannot change his habits from the battlefield, so he drew blood."

Morgan beside him lowered his head, lit his pipe, and agreed softly:

"Only once you reach the top eight can you be said to have a bit of something. But... hmph. With this ability, what is there he could not do? Yet he insists on coming here to perform."

"Hey, everyone has their own ambitions."

Doyle lay over the short railing beside him, rustling as he recorded something.

"If it were me, compared with losing my head and bleeding with no one to wrap my corpse, I would definitely rather receive flowers and cheers in the ring and venue."

Morgan snorted disdainfully and turned away.

The host's amplified voice rang out again, covering their whispers.

"This selection meeting has over one hundred contestants who passed the preliminary examination, including many famous and long-established popular contestants, naturally the great favorites, of course no lack of young and vigorous newcomers to make the blood boil, and also unknown dark horses with true strength, shocking everyone with a single cry! This is a grand occasion unseen in many years. At last, after layer upon layer of killing, after breaking through every obstacle, they have decided the final top eight!"

Following the host's words, the top eight contestants walked out of their tents one after another, receiving the spectators' cheers while warily watching each other.

Doyle narrowed his eyes, carefully examined these contestants, and took notes seriously.

"Found it!"

The voice from behind startled Doyle. His paper and pen nearly fell from his hands. Only after seeing who had come did he let out a breath.

"Scared me to death. I thought Terror Blade had come back to life... Oh, oh, Wya, wait, yes, you, real Wya. Catch your breath."

Doyle put away his paper and pen and supported Wya, who was covered in sweat and panting.

"What did you find? A betting point with fee discounts?"

Wya froze at once.

In the next second, the host's voice suddenly sounded, startling them both.

"First is Hundred-Step Ranger Kongyu, selected and sent by the New Suburb Security Hall and the Night Workers' Guild. With a greatsword in one hand he upholds justice, and with flying knives in the other he punishes petty criminals. His skill was trained through a life as mercenary and adventurer. It is said he traveled ten thousand li and saw one hundred cities before finally deciding to settle in our beautiful Jade City, where he practices chivalry and justice in the New Suburbs and is respected by all. Within one hundred steps, villains disappear without trace. Wherever the Ranger is, citizens are safe and sound. Everyone, this is one of this selection meeting's top eight: the Hundred-Step Ranger!"

Amid the surrounding chaos of cheers and applause, Wya had no choice but to raise his voice.

"What betting... No, I mean, I just found several clerks from city hall and several secretaries from merchant associations. Borrowing my father's name, I threatened and bribed..."

"What? Threatened and bribed? You?"

Doyle was somewhat surprised.

"I know. I did not want to either. But with the current situation..."

Wya remembered something, took out his notebook, and snatched Doyle's pen.

"Lend me your pen. Mine broke. While my memory is still clear..."

"Wait, I am still using-"

Before Doyle could protest, he heard Wya murmur:

"Srimanny. Twenty years ago, through official civil service exams and qualification review, he became an official security officer. His reputation in the department was good. He was helpful, and colleagues all praised him as 'the Security Hall's pen' and 'the report expert'..."

Doyle felt that title sounded somewhat familiar and could not help scratching his ear.

"Not strange."

A deep, heavy voice came from behind, making Doyle shudder.

"Zombie! You scared me! I thought..."

Doyle turned around and spoke righteously:

"Where did you go? You should know, we are in an extraordinary moment, and His Highness needs people at his side!"

Glover had just returned from outside the arena. Holding his bandaged arm, he narrowed his eyes and looked at the notes in Doyle's hand.

"You mean people to calculate odds and place bets?"

"Cough, cough. Now is not the time to talk about that."

Doyle calmly closed his notes and odds sheet and turned to Wya.

"Then? Continue. What happened to Srimanny?"

Wya did not notice this little episode. After hurriedly finishing his records, he returned the pen to Doyle, who began scribbling over the odds sheet again.

"Nine years. Nine years ago, at the most critical moment for accumulating qualifications and promotion, Srimanny suddenly resigned from his post as security officer and switched careers to become a defense lawyer."

"Resigned? Why?"

Not far across from them, Jade Legion soldiers had been watching this big fellow of the Star Lake Guard warily, until Glover glared back viciously, refusing to yield even an inch of eye contact.

"Because something happened to him."

Another voice came from behind.

The few of them froze together.

"Old Komuto!"

Doyle, peeking down at his notes, trembled again. Unable to endure it, he said:

"Do none of you make sound when you walk?"

"You were writing too intently."

Guard Officer Komuto raised his eyebrows, but he immediately froze.

"Eh, Young Master Caso holds a notebook to write proper business, but what are you holding one for..."

Doyle swallowed.

Fortunately, the host's words rang out again, covering them.

"The handsome and agile swordsman Levin Jabari was once the main performer in an acrobatic troupe from Tyrone State, until an old knight discovered his talent with weapons. From then on, he changed careers to wield swords, won tournaments everywhere, and never stopped. Known as the Free Sword Dancer, he was light and agile in the battles before the top eight, strolling leisurely as if walking through a courtyard, his posture floating like an immortal, roaming between victory and defeat by a hair's breadth, driving every lady mad. Heavens, if the selection meeting's champion were decided by vote, everyone, we could announce the end now!"

In the field, a lightly armored knight with feathers decorating his helmet elegantly swung two thin swords and bowed toward the surrounding stands, drawing a large shower of flowers and coins.

"Oh, this fellow dressed like a peacock. He has problems."

Doyle perked up, looking at his notes.

"In at least two fights, his opponents were clearly decently strong, but they kept making flashy and impractical show moves, then strangely lost to him. And they just happened to lose in the final few moves, creating the situation that this fellow persevered, struggled to the end, and finally turned defeat into victory."

"No wonder. I thought the changes in his odds were a bit... Tsk, tsk. Someone is probably going to lose badly."

Komuto understood.

"It is fine. My stepmother said money flows."

Doyle raised his pen and chuckled.

"If someone loses, that means someone must profit..."

"Guard Officer Komuto, why did you say Srimanny resigned because something happened? What happened?"

Wya squeezed up to them, his face serious.

Seeing everyone look toward him, Komuto straightened his collar, his expression satisfied.

"In truth, it was not Srimanny, but his old superior, who I estimate was also his backing and umbrella, Jeff Rene, who likewise died. Rene was originally a Security Hall chief, a slippery old hand. No fault could be found in his work, and he offended neither black nor white. Even if the entire Security Hall were taken down, with all superiors and subordinates locked up without exception, he would still be able to escape punishment unharmed..."

Komuto smiled mysteriously.

"Until ten years ago, Rene lost his hat as chief of the Canal District Security Hall and was demoted to first-class security officer. Later, people even dug up corruption and bribery... Heh. Once he fell, Srimanny must have been unable to continue either. What could he do except resign?"

Wya pondered while wondering:

"How do you know?"

Komuto's face collapsed at these words. He took out his shriveled wallet and sighed in pain.

"I went to find an acquaintance in the local Security Hall and lent him quite a bit of money to bet..."

Doyle slapped his thigh, full of regret.

"Aiya! If you had money, why lend it to him?"

"Ten years ago?"

A woman's voice suddenly sounded.

Everyone turned together.

"Mira!"

Doyle instinctively put away his notes. Only after seeing who it was did he let out a breath.

"You startled me!"

But Miranda paid no attention and pressed the question.

"Guard Officer Komuto, you said Rene lost his post ten years ago?"

Komuto nodded.

"Strictly speaking, uh, not exactly strictly. The rumor in the Security Hall was that Rene was brought down by a political enemy..."

"Snowfield Beast, Denver Bu!"

The host's voice grew inappropriately loud.

"Look! This is a fierce beast you absolutely do not want to see on a journey. From beyond the Quigul Glacier Defense Line, north of the ancient Last Defense Line of Humanity, a savage Northlander who grew up drinking blood and eating raw flesh, sleeping in wind and eating in the open, cruel and terrifying. One meal for him requires food for eight people. With one axe, he can split open a mongrel two men tall. Roars are his only language. Madness is his only personality. Cruelty is his greatest faith. Contestants who meet him had best be careful, and guests who bet on him can be happy!"

A filthy giant appeared in the center of the arena. Under the lights, he threw down a double-headed axe with a bang and beat his chest while roaring, drawing cries of surprise from the stands.

"Another boaster."

Miranda could not help laughing softly.

"Aside from orcs and the glacier sentries trained by End Fortress, no one can survive north of the Thirty-Eight Watchlands, unless you carry two hundred barrels of Everlasting Oil and five hundred carts of firewood with you, burning them in turns every day for warmth."

Everyone froze and looked at the giant with increasingly strange eyes.

"Also."

Miranda shook her head.

"The farther north you go, the smaller axes become. Weapon sizes become more and more suitable for carrying close to the body. Once you reach the Thirty-Eight Watchlands, covered in ice and snow where dripping water freezes..."

"I see."

Doyle's eyes lit up. He opened his notebook again and recorded.

"Understood. Thank you."

"This is called novelty hunting."

A voice appeared behind his shoulder.

"Fuck- Little Fool Lion!"

Doyle turned back and roared with hands on waist.

"Did your father never teach you not to approach people from behind?"

"No, because there was no need."

Paul Bozdorf replied calmly.

"In the Western Wasteland, people who do not even know someone is approaching from behind basically cannot survive."

Doyle choked.

"So, ten years ago, Rene lost his post. Nine years ago, Srimanny resigned."

Paul turned to Wya and the others.

"Correct?"

Wya's eyes brightened.

"Young Master Bozdorf, you noticed it too?"

Paul shook his head.

"Please, I am no young master. Also, I just found out a bit of information about this morning's dead man, also our old friend, Special Security Officer Kaquere. Guess when he was promoted and transferred from his position as guard captain of the prison to become a security officer?"

Miranda's eyes moved.

"Ten years ago?"

"No. But close enough. Eleven years ago."

Glover's brow moved.

"Eleven years ago, Kaquere was transferred... How do you know?"

Paul pointed behind him with his thumb.

"In a certain stand, there is a noble young master who allegedly comes from a branch of the Bozdorf family, whose family immigrated from Heroic Soul Fortress to here."

"From the Western Wasteland to the South Coast?"

Komuto clicked his tongue.

"How distant a branch must that be?"

"Quite distant. Distant enough that I think he is only a swindler trying to take advantage of the selection meeting to squeeze into upper circles, bluff, and fleece a rich fool."

Doyle's eyes lit up.

"So?"

"So I patiently listened to him finish counting 'his' genealogy and pretended not to know he had said my grandfather's name wrong."

Paul was indifferent.

"Then we got talking. He wished he could pour out all the local information he knew like beans, including how Security Officer Kaquere used to be a gatekeeper in Jade City's prison long ago, extorting, taking bribes, bullying those below, deceiving those above, and how every swindler and robber who had squatted inside hated him to death."

Wya's eyes moved.

"But Kaquere eleven years ago..."

Doyle waved and interrupted him.

"Hey, do not interrupt. Back to the main topic. What happened afterward to that swindler pretending to be from your family?"

Wya could hardly believe it.

"Main topic? Is it not-"

"Oh. Afterward, he drank too much, drunkenly said he had inside information and knew who the predetermined champion was, and was going to bet and make a fortune. But when he touched himself, he discovered his wallet was gone. While full of regret, he looked at me hopefully and asked whether I had spare money."

Paul's face was expressionless.

"And then?"

Doyle looked at Paul with expectation.

"Then I sent him home."

Wya was startled.

"Home?"

"Do not worry. He is still alive."

Paul's attitude was calm.

"In the Western Wasteland, this is very common."

Alive?

Everyone looked at one another. Only Doyle sighed in disappointment.

"So, Paul."

Doyle closed his notebook, his expression serious.

"Do you have any spare money?"

Paul frowned, not yet answering, when the host's voice sounded again:

"Tate Bischoff! This black-armored foot soldier from Maplehorn Coast has won consecutive victories, but every one of them is laughable. In his first battle, his opponent had trouble with the connection of his shoulder armor. In his second, his opponent stumbled underfoot. In the third, it was Bischoff's turn to fall, but his mistake became a blessing, crushing and breaking his opponent's thigh. And in the fourth elimination match, an expert returned from the Tower of Eradication withdrew before battle, so Bischoff advanced by default and shockingly entered the final top eight. In view of this, spectators have already given him a nickname: the Sword of Destiny!"

Following the introduction, the black-armored warrior took two steps forward and clumsily raised his hand to wave. There were few responses from the stands, but laughter came in waves.

"His opponent withdrew before battle... Mm. This fellow is probably also problematic, someone used to balance the odds..."

Komuto shook his head repeatedly.

"Someone, someone with wealth and power, wanted him to enter the top eight, and therefore bought off his opponents, including the one who withdrew."

Paul said gloomily.

"Wouldn't that be too obvious a manipulation?"

Wya frowned.

"Oh, no, no, no. This is where you do not understand the way inside..."

Doyle spoke with dancing brows.

"The trick here should be that only the one who withdrew was not bought off. So he was forced to 'withdraw' and had an accident. That is why it is so obvious."

"This Bischoff."

Miranda suddenly spoke.

"I watched his battles. His rhythm is not simple."

Doyle pricked up his ears.

"Rhythm? What do you mean?"

Miranda's eyes were clear.

"He has some skill. He absolutely does not rely only on comedy and good luck."

Everyone paused together.

Glover frowned.

"Is that so?"

"You mean... in all those previous fights, that clumsy and ridiculous appearance was also an act?"

Doyle's face changed slightly. He looked around, feeling the atmosphere in the stands, and instantly understood.

"Terrible. A pool within a pool! The house eats both sides!"

In the next second, Doyle grabbed the betting slip and frantically scribbled changes.

"Of course, ladies and gentlemen, next is the greatest favorite of this selection meeting, the most terrifying existence among the top eight!"

The voice rang out again in the arena.

A person covered in blood stepped out of a tent, drawing cheers from thousands.

"Azayin Courage-Gathering Baligo!"

In the arena, the host practically roared from the platform:

"As a Barren Mountain warrior coming from the Hanbol Dynasty to attend, he was originally a brave fighter on the battlefield who could fight ten alone and repeatedly rendered meritorious service, a soldier who charged formations, a choice from a hundred battles. His long spear is cruel and precise, his iron shield firm and strong, a battlefield nightmare who takes enemy chiefs from armies and breaks enemy camps through mountains of corpses and seas of blood. It is said that the Heavenly Wisdom Talar of the Hanbol Dynasty once summoned him and personally granted him a Dawn Name: Courage-Gathering. But Baligo refused unimaginable rewards, because he does not envy high office and rich salary. He only wants to fight joyfully on the battlefield, challenge the strongest opponents, and expand the limits of life. In the previous battles, his opponents suffered many casualties, blood flowing across the ground, real and brutal. Yet Baligo remains deeply loved by spectators. This is the charm of the Barren Mountain Rapids!"

"See, there are still some who can fight."

Miranda was somewhat surprised.

"Look at his footwork and bodily coordination. Damn it, this fellow is the real beast."

"I do not like his eyes."

Morgan stared tightly at the equally fierce-looking Baligo and clenched his fist.

"If I met him on the street..."

"If he charged into the stand and attacked His Highness..."

Glover measured the distance from the arena to the duke's stand, thoughtful.

"Shoot him dead."

Paul frowned.

"There is no need to fight him at close range."

"Call more people."

Komuto looked at Baligo's knotted muscles and crisscrossing scars.

"Then there would be no need to fight."

"Everyone, back to the topic!"

Wya waved and clenched his fist, trying hard to pull everyone's attention away from the selection meeting.

"Although several hours have passed without anything happening, do not forget, His Highness said our situation is dangerous..."

Doyle yawned widely.

Paul spoke at the right time:

"So, whether Srimanny, Rene, or Kaquere, their lives all experienced a major change. Some rose, some fell, and all happened exactly nine to eleven years ago..."

Wya was worried.

"Unfortunately, I cannot find the career histories of the other two dead men, wine merchant Moss and wool merchant Diop..."

"Diop was the same."

Glover suddenly spoke, drawing everyone's attention.

Glover was not very used to being stared at by everyone. He coughed.

"He was originally only a tanner's apprentice, bottom-level even in the craft industry. The kind no one would invite when everyone took a Restoration Day holiday, pooled money, drank, and celebrated..."

Everyone froze, staring fixedly at Zombie.

"Until ten years ago, Diop suddenly met a noble backer, made a windfall, opened his own processing workshop, and then switched to the fur business, with orders and customers coming without end... Why are you all looking at me?"

"Vanguard Officer, how did you know this?"

Several seconds later, Wya asked the question on everyone's mind.

Glover instinctively turned his head, avoiding everyone's gaze.

"Oh. I guarded for three hours just now, and nothing happened. So during shift rest, I thought about Wya's notes. I pulled Mute along and went outside to stroll through the street-stall night market. We just happened to run into a few Blood Bottle Gang..."

"Nothing happened?"

Morgan could not believe it.

"Thought about the notes?"

Doyle could not believe it.

"Shift rest?"

Komuto could not believe it.

"You and Mute?"

Wya could not believe it.

"Street-stall night market?"

Paul could not believe it.

"Stroll through?"

Neshy, who had returned after being punished with extra duty, also could not believe it.

"All of you, be normal!"

Miranda sternly criticized the others, then turned back and asked in disbelief:

"Glover, you just said you happened to run into them?"

Facing so many strange looks, Glover was embarrassed.

"They just told us these things... Wait, shouldn't the point be ten years ago?"

Fortunately, the host saved Zombie again.

"Everyone, please remain calm. The bloody killing among the top eight will begin immediately after the team battle. Correct, the most chaotic, bloodiest, and most unexpected multi-person team battle. As far as I know, at least five of the final top eight will participate in the team battle. Hehe, this is the ultimate test of physical strength, patience, wisdom, logistics, and even popularity. Among them, will someone break out and display the miracle of the Sword of Northern Light from back then, ten battles and ten victories, ten thousand men unable to stop him, taking first place in both individual and team matches?"

Amid mountain-and-sea cheers, more contestants came onto the field. Quite a few were those eliminated in previous single duels. They quickly formed groups of two or three, creating their own teams.

"Here it comes! Let me hear more noise! This is the blood-boiling team battle! Champions may fall. The weak may counter-kill. Despicable methods can win. Rashness will inevitably miss. Are you ready?"

On this side, Miranda folded her arms.

"Want to know something else?"

She gestured for everyone in the guard to gather around and raised her voice amid the spectators' howls.

"Jade City has a bodyguard guild. Many people inside are swordsmen who graduated from the Tower of Eradication..."

"I also came out of the Tower of Eradication. Why don't I know?"

Hearing familiar words, Neshy, who was standing guard nearby, hurriedly pricked up his ears.

Everyone, displeased that he interrupted, turned their heads unhappily together.

"Did you graduate?"

Glover snorted coldly.

Neshy's expression changed.

"Are you a seed?"

Wya asked helplessly.

Neshy's eyelid twitched.

"Are you a chief?"

Komuto sighed.

Neshy's mouth twitched.

"Are you the Northland's heir?"

Paul said calmly.

Neshy trembled all over.

"Are you our adorable good Mira?"

Doyle said seriously.

Neshy froze at once.

Thud.

With a muffled sound, Miranda smoothly withdrew her elbow, letting Doyle cover his belly and bend over in pain.

On the other side, Neshy had not been harmed, but his mind was wandering as well. He staggered and crouched dejectedly in the corner.

"In short, this selection meeting, the bodyguard guild also recommended several people to participate, and I spoke with them..."

Miranda continued.

"Say it."

Doyle instantly straightened, opened his notebook, picked up his pen, and his eyes shone.

"Who should I bet on?"

Thud.

Another muffled sound. Glover punched Doyle until he groaned and had no choice but to retreat behind everyone.

"A few old fellows told me."

Miranda said loudly:

"Lausanne II had a mysterious origin and strange swordsmanship. At least back when he was still an assassin of the Blood Bottle Gang, no one in Jade City knew his true face. But after a decisive battle with the Brotherhood of Black Street, he ultimately died in the capital. Guess how many years ago?"

Everyone's expression changed together.

"Could it be..."

"Ten years ago?"

A voice came from behind.

"Fuck your mother, scaring me again, no sound when walking-"

Doyle, studying the betting slip in his hand, jumped fiercely, then reacted and smiled broadly.

"Aiya, it is Lord Standard Officer! This subordinate has been waiting here for you for a long time..."

Hugo Fubi stood behind everyone with a gloomy expression. Everyone could not help shivering and became solemn at once.

Everyone knew that when Terror Blade was absent, Ghost and Gardener were the highest-ranking existences.

"Strictly speaking, eleven years ago, Standard Officer Fubi."

Miranda continued.

"Eleven years ago, many people saw with their own eyes that Lausanne II died at Black Sword's hands."

Doyle's eyes changed.

"Eh, but according to Zombie and Mute, perhaps only Zombie, that female boss confessed that Lausanne II was killed by someone else?"

Hugo shook his head.

Miranda pondered.

"That is not important. The key point of this information is..."

"Eleven years ago?"

Wya frowned tightly and snatched Doyle's pen.

Hugo snorted softly.

"I just heard some of your discussion. Since that is so..."

He took a deep breath.

"Wine merchant Dagori Moss, in the Bloody Year, was heavily in debt and had lost even his underwear. But his business suddenly began improving from eleven years ago, and he even began traveling for long-distance business, doing business all the way to the capital..."

Hugo looked at everyone.

"Of course, we later learned that he was recruited by Jade City at that time."

Miranda was surprised.

"Eleven years ago again?"

Everyone sank into thought.

Doyle leaned forward and whispered:

"Lord Standard Officer, how did you..."

"Standard Wing channels."

Hugo blocked him off completely.

"Do not ask."

Doyle revealed a helpless expression and withdrew.

But halfway through withdrawing, his expression suddenly changed.

"Wait. You, you, you, and all of you..."

Doyle pointed at everyone one by one, unable to believe it.

"Could it be that during the past few hours, all of you were working hard to investigate information?"

"Of course. Our situation is dangerous."

Wya answered while thinking hard.

"Otherwise?"

Doyle looked at Wya, whose face was full of matter-of-factness, and at the notebook in his hand. He silently put away his own notebook.

"Then the problem comes."

Miranda narrowed her eyes.

"Moss, Diop, Srimanny, Rene, Kaquere, even Lausanne II..."

Wya read the names in his notes.

"Eleven years ago or ten years ago."

Glover said in a low voice:

"Year 669 or 670 of the Eradication Calendar."

"The eighth year after the Bloody Year, the fourth year after the Desert War ended."

Paul thought seriously.

"And two years before the prince's return..."

"And the sixteenth year after my birth..."

Doyle nodded solemnly.

"At that time, what exactly happened in Jade City?"

Komuto repeated.

"Something that could change so many people's lives and even cost them their lives must be a major matter, right?"

Miranda pondered.

Everyone tried hard to think, or at least pretended to try hard to think.

Miranda's eyes turned toward Hugo.

"Lord Standard Officer? You are widely experienced and hold special duties. You must know the answer?"

Hugo was silent for a while.

"Correct. I know, or rather, I have guessed."

The standard officer sighed.

"But this matter involves..."

Hugo cautiously looked left and right, wanting to speak but stopping.

"Forget it. Better to speak after we return."

Miranda grew anxious.

"But Lord Standard Officer..."

But Hugo shook his head and resolutely turned away.

"Do not think too much. Just stand this shift properly."

Watching Hugo leave, everyone froze.

"He knows, but he refuses to say."

Paul pondered.

"What is he worried about?"

Wya wondered.

"I want to know too."

Miranda pressed her lips together.

"A major matter that happened eleven years ago..."

As they thought, Doyle slapped his thigh.

"Hey, this is simple."

With that, under everyone's surprised gaze, Doyle crouched and poked his head under the railing, waving to stop a casino messenger running past beneath the stand.

"Hi! Zabi! Wait! Remember me?"

"Ah! Of course I do!"

The young messenger was only in his teens, a large cloth bag hanging on him. Hearing this, he stopped, looked up, and saw Doyle, immediately smiling widely.

"You are Mister Wya from Stand Six!"

At that instant, the space around the railing went quiet.

Even Doyle froze, his hand stopped in midair.

He swallowed and clearly felt that among the group behind his head, the air pressure around one person was dropping sharply.

Everyone retreated one step in unison, tacitly leaving space in the middle for Attendant Wya Caso, the real one, who held paper and pen, lowered his head deeply, and trembled faintly.

But unfortunately...

"So, Mister Wya, do you still want to place a bet?"

Zabi was extremely excited.

"Another round? The team battle is already closed, and it is too chaotic to bet on. But the top eight matches are another matter. Maybe you will win this time, Mister Wya?"

Feeling the icy temperature behind his head, Doyle slowly squeezed out a tragic smile.

"Hehe. Yes, yes. Then again, again bet..."

Under everyone's sympathetic gazes, Mister Wya from Stand Six stiffly reached into his chest and tremblingly took out a betting slip.

"All right. One bet on Contestant Bischoff!"

Zabi accepted the betting slip and coins, beaming.

"From the honored guest of Stand Six, Mister Wya!"

Drums and music sounded. The team battle officially began. Under the host's incitement, contestants who had long formed teams roared and charged at one another. Some formed gangs to face outsiders together. Some silently retreated to preserve strength and protect themselves. Of course, some also roared straight into the crowd. Before long, people were already bleeding and wounded.

The cheers from the stands around the arena were unprecedented, deafening. Fireworks dotted the night sky, colorful and brilliant, creating a scene of liveliness and prosperity.

But Doyle shuddered, feeling only deathly silence behind him.

Cold and desolate.

Everyone looked at one another, while Wya's expression was hidden beneath shadow, impossible to see.

Sensing that something was very wrong, Doyle hurriedly changed the topic.

"Cough, cough. Right, brother, let me ask one more thing. Did anything major happen in Jade City eleven or twelve years ago?"

"Huh? Major?"

Zabi, happily accepting bets, froze.

"Why ask this? What kind of thing counts as major?"

Doyle stiffly curled his lips.

"Hehe, hehe. Here is the thing. Do you see that serious-looking big brother behind me with the notebook? We are playing a two-person quiz. The winner gets money. How about this, I will share some with you afterward?"

Zabi was first delighted, then waved his hand.

"No need, no need. You have given me so much business today, Mister Wya..."

The air pressure behind him dropped even lower.

"Cough, cough."

Doyle hurriedly interrupted him.

"That, Zabi. Eleven years ago. Major matter?"

"Major matter... major matter... Oh, got it! Last year, Jade City held a tenth anniversary celebration. Our casino also ran promotions for it. That definitely counts as a major matter..."

Miranda leaned onto the railing at these words, her expression deep.

"Tenth anniversary? A commemorative celebration? Commemorating what?"

"Of course commemorating eleven years ago."

Young Zabi puffed out his chest with pride.

"Lord Zayen returned to Jade City, pacified the rebels, and formally succeeded as the new generation's Guardian Duke of the South Coast!"

"There is no greater matter than that!"

At that instant, everyone froze.

After the young messenger left, everyone looked at one another. Even Wya momentarily forgot his recent grudge.

"Eleven years ago, the duke succeeded, pacified the rebels. What does that mean?"

Wya murmured.

He raised his head, looked at everyone, and suddenly discovered that some people's faces were grave, while others could hardly believe it.

"Why?"

Wya pursued:

"Why did all these dead people, after the Duke of the South Coast's succession, either rise in position or change careers, and then eleven years later, suffer successive murders?"

"Why did Lord Standard Officer clearly know, yet keep deeply silent about it?"

No one answered.

Komuto's face was pale, and he carefully looked around.

Morgan shook his head disdainfully and spat.

Paul's brows were tightly locked, and he said nothing.

Glover's face remained stiff as a dead man's, but his fists clenched.

Miranda raised her head toward the duke's stand, her expression even uglier, her gaze sharp.

Only Doyle, in order to make up for his mistake just now, slapped his thigh and answered readily.

"This is simple. According to your theory, real Wya..."

The more Doyle spoke, the more excited he became, feeling that logic had never flowed so smoothly.

"Of course there was something suspicious about the Duke of the South Coast's succession, and these dead people were all insiders. That is why some were promoted and some changed careers, until they were settled accounts with and silenced-"

In the next second, Doyle understood something. He shivered in shock and bit off all his words between his teeth.

No way?

The duke's suc-succession...

"What did you say? What was suspicious?"

Wya breathed in a daze and asked shakily:

"Who, who was suspicious?"

With a boom, several stands erupted again with roars and cheers.

The team battle in the arena had already reached a fever pitch. People constantly screamed and fell, dragged away by dedicated rescuers. People also constantly roared and fought without stopping.

"Come! Kill! Fight! Burn! Shine! Warriors! Sunset is with you!"

The host roared madly:

"Fight bitterly to the death! Spill blood onto the earth! Bring glory to the selection meeting!"

But in that instant, Wya felt that the arena before his eyes had changed.

It was no longer an arena for contestants and spectators. The fighting field and stands had become the most inconspicuous parts.

Instead, hundreds and thousands of Jade Legion soldiers in orderly formations filled every sentry post, guarded every exit, watched every layer of stands, and blocked every road around the Star Lake Guard so thoroughly that not even water could pass.

The duke's succession... was suspicious.

Wya swallowed.

"Everyone, do not get excited, do not make it known. We know nothing. Everything continues as normal."

Miranda spoke in a deep voice.

But clearly, no one dared to get excited anymore.

And no one could continue as normal.

The armor and shields of the surrounding soldiers were carved with bright Iris emblems. Every one of them was murderous and fully armed, faintly guarding the most honored stand.

Up there, the man they served, the young and vigorous Guardian Duke of the South Coast, Zayen Covendier, sat calmly.

Insiders... silenced...

Wya's breathing quickened.

And the youth wearing nine-pointed star attire sat beside Zayen, his brows tightly furrowed.

Seemingly thinking about something.

"Someone has to inform His Highness, bring him down..."

Wya spoke with difficulty.

"If the duke truly obtained his position improperly, once His Highness exposes it..."

"Shut your damned mouth, real Wya!"

Komuto reprimanded him in a low voice, not even caring about his usual politeness.

"And do not look toward His Highness!"

Everyone shivered together and no longer dared move.

At this row of railings, everyone stiffened their necks and stared fixedly at the team battle in the arena.

"Gods, why did I have to open my mouth and ask?"

Doyle was full of regret.

"The standard officer did not say it. He did not say it. There must be a reason he did not say it!"

"Does Prince Tha-Thales know?"

Wya stiffly raised his head.

"His Highness is smarter than us..."

Miranda gritted her teeth.

Glover said nothing. He quietly looked sideways, observing the arena's entrances and exits. The more he looked, the heavier his mood became.

"Wait. If His Highness knows..."

Paul suddenly spoke.

"Then it is even more dangerous."

Miranda shook her head.

"Think about it. If Zayen knows His Highness knows... even if only suspects..."

Terrible.

Everyone's hearts sank again.

"I will gather everyone, quietly."

"No! It will draw suspicion."

"Everyone, I need to say something. Do not panic after you hear it..."

"Then what do we do?"

"I will send a secret signal..."

"Notify the standard officer first..."

"Everyone..."

"The standard officer must already be acting!"

"Calm down. Leave one by one..."

"Uh, everyone?"

"What about His Highness?"

"He has a weapon, Warning, and the dagger he usually uses..."

"What? You want him to raise a sword and kill his way out?"

"I will bring him down. I will say Terror Blade is critically ill..."

"Mallos is in Emerald Palace! Is there a better excuse?"

"Everyone!"

Someone shouted, making everyone tremble together.

They turned and discovered the person speaking was Doyle.

"Something is not right."

Doyle was covered in sweat, his expression panicked. He raised a trembling hand.

Everyone looked at one another, surprised and terrified.

"Doyle, calm down!"

Miranda gritted her teeth.

"Do not panic, Doyle. Deep breaths. I am here."

Glover knew this might be panic breaking out on the battlefield and hurriedly said:

"I am watching your back."

"No!"

But Doyle interrupted him.

He pointed at the field and trembled:

"I saw it. In the team melee, someone just used a Locking Formation, orthodox."

Miranda froze.

"What does that mean?"

"That is, that is one move from the Legion's Ten Forms."

Everyone froze.

Only after several seconds did Miranda slowly return to herself as she looked at the chaotic battle below.

"Wh-what?"

"I know. Many times, I told myself he was already dead, that there was no path to life... But, but there is always a voice telling me he would not be that easy..."

Doyle's voice was distorted.

"Terrible. I swear, that just now was absolutely the Guard Form!"

"..."

Glover spoke with difficulty.

"How is that possible?"

Wya could hardly believe it.

"Correct. Very impossible. But I swear, that technique, that familiarity, that is him."

Doyle swallowed hard. Looking at the flashes of blades and swords in the arena, his face turned ashen.

"Lausanne II. He is still alive."

"Mixed among the people in this melee."

"Right now."