1-14

Panthonia immediately ordered the guards to secure all entrances and exits of the mansion, and blew the alarm on the balcony to signal Dennisen, who was stationed outside the estate, to alert his men to be vigilant. Some startled guests hurriedly crowded towards the main gate, but as an experienced military officer and the host of the banquet, he persuaded everyone to stay in the hall, saving Panthonia a lot of trouble.

Everyone set down their wine glasses, but yet another person collapsed. While the paramedics provided urgent care, Panthonia learned that all three victims had consumed the same red wine served by a male waiter. "It's a poison that takes about five minutes to take effect," the medic informed him.

"Bring all the male waiters and their supervisor here," he ordered his colleagues.

"I'm here, I'm the supervisor," a middle-aged man squeezed through.

"Take a look at this," Panthonia presented the cup still containing some wine residue to the man, "Where did this wine come from?"

The supervisor took the cup, observed its color, and sniffed it. "This is not right. Either it's not the red wine we provided, or something has been added. My staff would notice if there was anything wrong with the wine they served."

"What's going on?" the host of the banquet approached Panthonia, grasping his shoulder and leading him to a secluded spot behind a pillar.

"Someone disguised as a waiter must have poisoned the wine," Panthonia said, "This doesn't seem like a targeted assassination. The poison doesn't act immediately, and the perpetrator is exploiting this time gap to harm more people. He's probably still hiding elsewhere in the house."

"Are my guests safe staying in the hall?"

"They are safe, sir. By the time the poison takes effect, he must have already left the hall." Panthonia didn't mention the possibility that the poisoner might take reckless actions to escape.

"Listen, I don't care who's backing you," the host of the banquet said, "If someone dies here—"

"Sorry, I need to talk to him," Duke Koen approached, taking Panthonia aside, "What did I tell you? I told you to go find my son quickly, so what are you doing now?"

"I believe they are safe—"

"Shut up. Get out of here. Go do what you, this idiot, should do. I gave you such an important opportunity, and look at what you've done with it..."

Panthonia, accompanied by two trusted subordinates, began the search. He briefly asked about the suspect's appearance, but understood that this information would not be very useful since guests wouldn't take the time to remember a waiter's face, especially if the disguise was more than just a change of clothes. They passed through all the exits and entrances, but all the guards reported no suspicious individuals.

He descended the stairs and reached the mansion's entrance, where he saw Phipin leading Hilsbeth inside quickly.

"Investigator, sir," Phipin said to Panthonia, "What's happening? Is my father in danger?"

"Your father is very safe. Both of you, quickly go to the second-floor hall and don't wander around," Panthonia instructed, then ordered one of his subordinates to escort them.

As Hilsbeth passed by Panthonia, she kept looking at him, slowing her pace.

"What's wrong with you?" Phipin said. "The investigator told us to go upstairs quickly."

"It's nothing," Hilsbeth turned to face Phipin. He doesn't even look at me.

As soon as he stepped out of the gate, Panthonia noticed unusual activity to the east of the mansion. He immediately rushed over and, halfway there, saw a colleague from the security bureau fighting with someone wearing a waiter's uniform. By the time he arrived, the security officer was lying on the ground, and the assailant had disappeared into the woods on both sides of the path.

The fallen colleague had two deep stab wounds in his heart area, indicating he had no chance. The assailant's attack seemed too swift, leaving him no time to sound the alarm. "Notify the others, I'll go after him," Panthonia told his accompanying subordinate, then entered the woods.

He could faintly hear someone moving through the woods ahead and followed the sound. It was a garden rather than the wilderness, ensuring there were no other sounds to disturb his hearing. But once out of the garden, he would soon find himself on a path close to low hills, where the enemy could easily escape.

"You idiot. I gave you such an important opportunity, and look at what you..."

Now the only thing to do is to catch the enemy. He tried to temporarily disconnect his thoughts from other aspects and drew his dagger, gripping it tightly.

The distance between the two was closing in; the culprit discarded the cumbersome waiter's coat and threw it on the ground. When Panthonia estimated that he would catch up in less than five seconds, the other suddenly stopped, turned around, and assumed a defensive stance. Panthonia recognized this as a last-ditch attempt to escape and focused all his attention on the enemy, taking the next step forward.

Another person darted out from behind the nearby trees and stabbed Panthonia in the abdomen. With someone else backing him up, Panthonia realized, he saw the disguised waiter smile. He laughed, twirled the dagger in his hand, sheathed it, and turned to continue running.

The stab wasn't too deep because Panthonia managed to grab the attacker's wrist in time. He knew he should neutralize the threat to himself at this point, but he couldn't stand the smirk on the enemy's face. The contempt, the self-assurance, the smile that showed no surprise at the tracker falling into the trap. The display, the boastfulness, the retrieval of the weapon—none of it he could tolerate. He threw the dagger in his right hand, striking the enemy's right calf. The person who thought the situation was under control a second ago fell to the ground, and then, after a moment of confusion, looked back at Panthonia with incomprehensible eyes and immediately tried to pull out the dagger stuck in his leg.

The assailant realized he had underestimated his opponent's strength. After the attack was blocked with one hand, he placed his other hand on the hilt, still unable to effectively push the blade forward. Panthonia's continued attack surprised him, but it immediately aroused his anger. He released his left hand and threw a punch forward, but again, Panthonia's right hand intercepted it.

At this moment, Panthonia saw a hint of panic in the attacker's eyes. A successful ambush plan resulting in the simultaneous failure of both parties—perhaps it wasn't as optimistic as he thought. The dagger tip was poisoned; Panthonia felt a numbness rapidly spreading from the wound to his limbs. While the numbness had not yet penetrated above his neck, he used his forehead to slam into the attacker's face twice, forcing him to step back, and the blade detached from his abdomen.

Panthonia intended to pursue, but when he tried to move his legs, he immediately fell to the ground. The wound wasn't particularly painful, but his limbs had lost sensation. A second later, he collapsed entirely, his face pressed against the sand. The numbness spread to his neck, lips, and nose, making it difficult for him to breathe. He tried to raise his eyes to look forward and saw the enemy in the distance pulling out the dagger, stumbling forward, while the enemy in front of him half knelt down—his hand pressed down on Panthonia's head, ready to stab downward with the knife.

Such humiliation—like slaughtering livestock, pressing firmly in a position much lower than the holder of the knife. In Panthonia's eyes, there was only gray-yellow sand; he always thought that before he died, this would be the sight in front of him. Not the ceiling of a room, not the face of a loved one, but just this—the greeting from the walking dead in the soil.

He hoped to clear all thoughts from his mind before he died, but he vaguely saw the silhouette of a woman. He didn't know who it was, but he could hear her singing something—a series of notes, with breaths vaguely appearing between the melodies—

Gunshots. The echoes of gunshots rose into the black sky through the trembling of the leaves. The attacker fell, a third of his head missing, blood and brain splattering on a cluster of leaves. Dennisen lowered his gun, ordered his men who followed to capture the limping enemy, and himself kicked the body of the deceased a bit away, then squatted down next to Panthonia.

"You're not dead, right? You won't die like this, will you?" he said. "Hold on, buddy. I'll get the doctor right away. You won't die, it's impossible when you think about it."

Dennisen patted Panthonia's shoulder and stood up. Originally his partner guarding the mansion, he discovered the fleeing culprit earlier than him, and single-handedly stopped two enemies—Dinesen was glad he rescued Panthonia in time, but he wasn't proud of the rescue. This was what he had to do.

After that, Panthonia lay in the hospital for two days. There was no specific treatment for such a paralyzing poison, mainly relying on his body's natural recovery. Two people came to see him, one was Dennisen, who told him that the person they captured alive was indeed the poisoner and hoped to conduct further interrogation after he was discharged. The other person was Koen. Of course, he wasn't there for a visit.

"Look at you," Koen said. "This is what you did to yourself."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"You assured me the security was perfect. How did such a person manage to slip in?"

"I've been here the whole time and haven't investigated the scene yet, so I can't answer you."

"Is that your excuse? You made a big mistake. And on top of that... right after I recommended you to so many people."

Panthonia remained silent.

"But you should thank me. I kept your injury a secret, didn't let it spread, otherwise you would appear even more incompetent—when you're incompetent, people will think that I, the one who recommended you, am also incompetent."

"Thank you very much for your consideration."

"Once you're able, get out of the hospital and clean up the mess. Understand?"

"I will, sir."

Koen left.

Although there was such a conversation, Panthonia didn't think the outlook was so bleak, because this incident could also be seen as a proof of his abilities. Apart from the security bureau member, no one died—those poisoned survived due to timely help. Depending on the outcome of the interrogations, this incident might even serve as important evidence for the necessity of establishing an intelligence agency. For example, it could be used to plan early detection and intervention once assassins enter Stormwind...

The numbness had completely disappeared, the minor abdominal injury was almost negligible, and all that remained was a slight fatigue. Panthonia planned to leave the hospital immediately and return to his familiar world.