Chapter 16 Perfect Entry

"There he is, the toughest guy in Wumu Town! Mr. Officer!"

Zhuo Yang asked curiously, "Was this guy really famous in the early days?"

"He fought Gao to a standstill even while severely wounded and died by Gao's hand in the end. What do you think?"

"Damn, is he that impressive? Wait, are you talking about daytime Gao or nighttime Gao?"

"Nighttime, but even nighttime Gao has the strength of a level four. Gao has two swords, one of them was Arthur's, so it's kind of Arthur and Ximen old Gao's thing."

Even though Heine knew they were probably referring to a nickname for some big shot from Eternal Dawn, hearing them keep saying "old Gao" made him feel odd.

However, to be able to fight on par with a level-four fighter, Arthur must be the ceiling of Makala region's combat strength.

Seeing Arthur, George seemed to have found his pillar of strength and was even in the mood to joke:

"Is that your prey? What breed?"

He was referring to the head that Arthur was holding.

"A Necromancer."

Arthur placed the head on the table, his gaze sweeping over those present.

Especially Heine, and the two miserable-looking skeletons behind him.

Just as he was about to speak, George called out to him.

"Arthur, if it wasn't for Heine, I might already be a corpse by now. You should thank him."

Arthur's expression changed slightly.

But he clearly wasn't the kind of person who could easily say thanks; he nodded slightly with an apologetic air, releasing the goodwill unique to tough men.

Heine didn't mind; he was staring intently at the head on the table.

In the vision of the Eyes of the Undead, there was a silver gleam inside that head...

His heart was pounding.

After so long, using the Eyes of the Undead to scrutinize each corpse, he finally saw something familiar again.

"Mr. Arthur, may I ask where the body for this head is? And may I have this head?"

Arthur was taken aback, not having anticipated such an odd request from the other party.

But it made sense, considering it was a Necromancer's.

"You can take it. The rest of the body is over this way, just walk two hundred meters, and you won't miss it."

He pointed in a direction.

"Alright, thank you!"

Heine rode off on his horse and returned in less than ten minutes, with a blood-soaked bundle added to the horse's back.

Anyone could tell he was very pleased now.

Arthur hadn't lied; that place truly couldn't be missed.

The trees around were all destroyed, and in a pit the size of a Yamuchadian tennis court, a headless corpse was scattered everywhere.

Unsurprisingly, there was also a bright, silvery gleam on the body.

…

News of the lord's attack spread quickly, and the hunting activity was soon called off.

All those present—except for Heine—were subject to Arthur's strict scrutiny.

Especially Mr. Donald.

Since only the person he invited mysteriously disappeared, he claimed their identity was special, but definitely unrelated to the matter, and even had an argument with Arthur.

Heine might be the most special guest at the event.

Because of his smart and brave performance, he was not only spared from scrutiny, but George also hired him as a spell consultant.

He hadn't even used the letter Xiya La had given him yet.

George also kept his word, allowing him to choose a set of finely forged plate armor and a standard issue light chain mail from the armory, and even invited him to dinner at the Viscount's residence.

After dinner, in the study.

There were just three people here: George, Arthur, and Heine.

To be exact, also the two skeletons in his bundle behind him.

Missing arms and legs, they couldn't be fixed for the time being, so he simply wrapped them up and brought them along, saving space and they weren't heavy anyway.

George at this moment was no longer the lively man from the dinner, his face was as dark and oppressive as the sky before a storm.

Just like the low pressure in the room.

"You go first, Arthur."

"Yes, my lord. After investigation, these three men are all from Gittler Manor. I found three dead horses at the northwest corner of the hunting field, the insides hollowed out, it seems their organs were consumed by some evil ritual."

The two looked towards Heine, who said:

"I guess it's due to the cultivation of blood worms, Gittlers are experts in this method."

He heard this from his own undead during dinner.

These two creatures said the blood sausage at the banquet was simply a scaled-up version of blood worms, which had ruined his appetite for the whole evening.

Bang!

The table took a -30hp blow.

"Are they trying to declare war on me?"

George's lips trembled with anger.

His father had died only a few days ago, and already a family of Necromancers was causing trouble in his territory.

If this wasn't a threat, what was it?

Speaking of which, being a lord, he was quite unfortunate; in this world, civil martial power was unrestrained, and though he had Arthur, the strongest warrior, Arthur was but one man, capable only of acting as a deterrent and unable to truly do anything.

Adventurers were easy to deal with, as long as the Silver Market was managed well, let them create chaos all they wanted.

But if the Gittiler family were truly pushed into a corner, everyone in the Viscount's domain would lose sleep over it.

That was a family of necromancers, after all.

"Lord, perhaps they came for me,"

Heine suddenly spoke up.

"What?"

"I am a necromancer, so is the opponent; among the guests present, I was the only one who could detect the adversary's trace and reach the scene in the first place.

"Assuming I hadn't arrived in time, then I would have been the closest necromancer to you at the time of your death.

"Even if I had managed to save you, I was nearly lured away by a decoy afterward. Being a necromancer present at the scene, it seems that this could've been their true objective."

Hearing him say this, both of them became somber.

Going by Heine's hypothesis, there was only one outcome—

Heine would inevitably be torn to pieces by an enraged Arthur.

Just like the bag of dismembered corpses he'd found…

Heine actually had more to say, at the last moment, blood worms had lunged at George.

He hadn't asked the lord if he had any magical defenses, like the leather armor Jianglu wore.

But the blood worms didn't seem like something that would trigger protection.

Once it made its way into George's brain, if Heine were to be attacked… the consequences were unimaginable.

After some deliberation, both of them came to agree with this speculation.

Though George was still angry, his expression softened slightly.

He frowned and asked, "Your hatred for the Gittilers, is it because of the soul-scattering curse?"

Heine shook his head.

"The soul-scattering curse is just a superficial cause; I believe there are deeper reasons. Do you remember why I participated in the hunt?"

George was taken aback: "Donald?"

"Yes, at the time, he asked me how to explain the coincidence at the Bone Burial Ground that night. I couldn't answer then, but now I've encountered a similar coincidence.

"I was targeted by the Gittilers because of the soul-scattering curse and also because Mr. Donald had no choice but to participate in this hunt.

"Most people saw that he hired a mysterious helper. In fact, I've met her, more than once."

Heine then recounted his two encounters with Jianglu, including the incident with the Tree Herder at the Haunted Farm.

"… I'm quite certain that she showed shock upon seeing me, then left immediately, followed by your assassination attempt which pointed the finger at me—Isn't that too coincidental?

"Of course, Mr. Donald can explain it away, and I don't have direct evidence against him, but I can't understand why our hatred has escalated to such a point,"

After a brief pause, Heine presented the opinion he'd been building up to.

"I think, I must have done something that threatened him.

"After careful consideration, it boils down to two things.

"I killed Hunter Jettile, disrupting his orchestrated evil ritual, preventing him from slandering Principal Gale and overturning the righteousness of the Holy Light Judgment.

"The second thing is my encounter at the Haunted Farm; it seems I unwittingly stumbled upon some secretive ritual, just a farm belonging to a family of necromancers, and yet guarded by Elves and a Tree Herder…

"And then, the Gittilers targeted me during this hunt.

"If all these events are connected, could a bold conclusion be drawn—that the Gittilers have turned to the Holy Light?"

Upon this remark, the four individuals present were shocked!

Especially the two Skeleton heads in the bag.

"Wow, his speculation is getting dangerously close to the right answer… Brother Yang, do you think he guessed or figured it out?"

"I lean towards him grasping at the last straw. If you were a commoner being targeted by a lord's aide, could you sleep without dealing with the adversary?"

"Makes sense, the timing of his entry is just… too perfect."

Heine's reasoning continued:

"Indeed, I can't explain the coincidence at the Bone Burial Ground that night, but what's most coincidental is why right after Hunter took action, the Holy Light Judgment followed immediately…

"If it was to endow the Holy Light with a sense of justice, then everything would make sense.

"If all my guesses are true, and Mr. Donald is aware of it all, then his hatred toward me is justified."

George tapped softly on the armrest of his chair, without expressing an opinion.

His thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Donald had more than once suggested to the old Viscount that they invite the agents of Eternal Dawn to cleanse this place of evil filth, but his father had always declined, citing "it's not good to disrupt the balance."

Wumu Town, to be precise, the Makala Mountain region.

In the past, it was a battleground for warring nations.

Now, it served as a balance point between four factions, the only "neutral battleground."

Amid his scattered thoughts, George remembered four days before:

That beam of great power illuminating the night sky, like a slap across his face.

The Holy Light truly was domineering.

George suddenly asked, "Arthur, when the old master was alive, did Mr. Donald often bring a middle-aged man to see him?"

"Yes, he was a master of horticulture, often taking care of the lord's plants."

"Hah, a master of horticulture? How interesting."