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n?”It seems I haven’t come to the wrong place,” the middle-aged man glanced at Enforcer Number Two, “Aren’t you going to help your companion up?”

nEnforcer Number Two hesitated for a few seconds before hastily stepping aside and bending down to assist the dazed young man to his feet.

nThe middle-aged man stood in front of Carlotte.

n“My guest has gone missing. Was it your doing?”

nFacing the middle-aged man, who wore a smile on his face, Carlotte felt a sense of familiarity with that visage.

nHowever, this slight recognition wasn’t enough to sway Carlotte’s decision; he had no intention of letting the middle-aged man leave the tavern.

nSo what if he was a magus?

nAt most, he’d be a preparatory-level; the likelihood of a certified magus appearing here was as low as finding real barley beer in this place.

nAs long as he wasn’t a certified magus, Carlotte was confident he could handle the situation.

nBesides, he himself was a preparatory-level magus.

n“Won’t you introduce yourself?”

nInstead of answering Carlotte’s question, the middle-aged man countered with his own.

n“There’s no need to waste words on a dead man,” Carlotte’s voice was cold, his gaze slowly turning solemn.

nOne by one, men armed with blades entered from the yard behind the tavern.

nThe middle-aged man quickly counted them; including the tavern owner, there were thirteen in total.

nThe number wasn’t large, but he suspected there was more than one preparatory-level magus among them.

nTouching his chin, the middle-aged man continued, “Perhaps I should introduce myself first?”

nScared? Or still bluffing?

nCarlotte observed the middle-aged man’s demeanor and movements but could discern nothing.

nHe wasn’t one for intellectual battles; his preferred method of conflict resolution was swinging a war hammer and cracking skulls.

nThus, he tilted his chin upwards, curious to see what sort of story this man would spin.

nThe middle-aged man smiled, extending one hand to reveal his palm from which pale, bluish mana erupted, forming a swiftly spinning vortex that emitted a deep, whirring sound.

nWith his other hand, he swept across his face, and a semi-transparent mask fell into his hand.

n“Windwolf, Sorovo.”

n“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

n…

nA deathly silence fell over Blossom Pub.

nIf Red Eye was a name that could stop children’s cries in Breeze City, then Sorovo was the nightmare of thieves.

nSorovo and Red Eye were quite similar, except the former hailed from an executioner’s background while the latter came from minor nobility.

nYes, Red Eye was originally a noble.

nJust as no one knew why Red Eye became Red Eye, few understood how Sorovo became Sorovo.

nHowever, a well-known fact about both was the blood on their hands—their reputations were built upon mountains of corpses and rivers of blood.

nAccording to those who kept count, after Sorovo took over as the chief officer of the city guard, the number of bandits around Breeze City decreased by more than a third, most of whom died by his hand, amounting to hundreds of lives.

nFacing that smile, which seemed to belong only in nightmares, Carlotte suddenly found himself voiceless.

nFear gripped his throat.

n“Don’t be nervous. I don’t wish to resort to violence today, understand?”

nSorovo, still relatively young, smiled gently, appearing benign but with a deep-seated cruelty and bloodlust swirling in his eyes.

n“I’m here just to ask some questions today. You should know what I want to find out, right?”

n“A person who knows nothing is of no value.”

nThe last sentence was whispered by Sorovo, close to Carlotte’s ear, his warm breath causing Carlotte’s body to tremble.

nNo need for anyone else to act; with just Sorovo alone, two-thirds of the people here wouldn’t stand a chance to escape.

nSo, who would be among that lucky one-third?

nIn the blind spot of Sorovo’s gaze, eyes within the crowd exchanged silent communication.

nNo one dared to make the first move, for those who do often die the quickest.

nAlthough fear shackled their ankles, resigning themselves to fate was not something they were prepared to do.

n“So, let’s begin the questioning,” Sorovo stood up straight, his smile unchanged, “Where is Red Eye?”

n…

nLorinda, Splash Street, Silver Flower Inn.

nA tall man wearing a half mask pushed open the door and stepped into the lobby, walking up to the counter in a few strides.

n“Hello, are you here for a meal? Or lodging? A single room with three meals is only two silver coins per day…”

nThe innkeeper’s buoyant and cheerful voice lost its warmth under the tall man’s icy gaze, plummeting all the way down.

n“I’m looking for someone.”

nThe man’s voice was hoarse, sounding almost like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together, sending shivers down one’s spine.

n“Has this person been here?” The man placed a piece of paper on the counter.

nGlancing at it, the innkeeper immediately recalled the group that had checked in some time ago with a half-orc, regretting her decision to let them stay.

nIf only she had known, she wouldn’t have allowed it—orc-kind never brought good fortune! .

nCursing inwardly, the innkeeper’s face remained impassive as her gaze shifted back to the tall man.

n“What do you want with him? Who are you to him?”

nThe innkeeper received no verbal response; instead, a short dagger was placed on the counter.

nShe hadn’t caught the tall man’s movement, her field of vision only capturing a flash of silver light before the dagger was “thud” embedded in the countertop with a dull sound!

n“Tell me, which floor is he on?”

nThe tall man scrutinized the plump innkeeper, his gaze akin to assessing a piece of pork laid out on a chopping board.

n“My patience is thin, do not try to wear it out.”

nThe innkeeper’s plump body began to tremble, certainly not from the cold.

n“Third, the third floor. An inner room on the third floor! You’re not going to kill him, are you?”

nThe tall man smiled, “Of course, we’re old friends who’ve known each other for a long time.”

nAt the Silver Flower Inn, on the third floor, Greg, Ali, and Howard’s room.

nSome time had passed since nightfall, Greg had lit the fireplace.

nThe charcoal burned brightly in the hearth, casting warm light that danced in shadows across Jelia’s face.

n“This is today’s medicine, the last dose.” Vivia entered the room, carrying a bowl of soup that looked quite unappetizing.

nSitting on the bed, Greg lifted his gaze, his eyes twitching as he brought his hands together in supplication, “My dear lady! My dear lady, what on earth have you put in this medicine? After drinking it yesterday, I spent the entire half-day in the restroom! And now you bring it again, I fear I might have to spend tonight in there as well!”

nVivia set the medicine on the table, without sparing Greg a glance, and waved her hand dismissively, “Drink it or not, it’s up to you, but don’t blame me for any consequences later!”

nSaying this, Vivia stood behind Jelia, reaching out to touch Jelia’s cascading hair, “Jelia, shall I comb your hair for you?”

n“Mhm.” Jelia nodded.

nVivia smiled, pulling out a small wooden comb from her belongings and tapped Jelia’s hair with it.

n“Come, let’s go in front of the mirror.”

nJelia rose from her chair and obediently sat in front of the mirror, ready for Vivia to begin.

nSeeing Vivia ignoring him, Greg could only sigh, put down the book he was holding, get off the bed, and walk over to the table to pick up the bowl of medicine.

nAs soon as he lifted the bowl, a sour and astringent strange smell invaded his nostrils.

nHis eye twitched, and a troubled expression appeared on Greg’s face.

n“Vivia… do I really have to drink this?”

n“You’ve been unconscious for so long. Although your body was preserved by mana, you still fell into a weakened state, and many toxins and waste products from metabolism weren’t expelled from your body. The last dose of medicine was to clear those out all at once. It might have been a bit harsh, but the effect was good,” Vivia explained as she combed Jelia’s hair, speaking to the reflection in the mirror.

n“This dose is to repair any damage to the stomach and intestines that the last medicine might have caused. The taste might be strange, but it’s all mild herbs.”

n“So, it won’t cause diarrhea?” Greg asked cautiously.

n“The method isn’t as intense as before because it mostly contains mild herbs.”

nUnfortunately, Vivia didn’t give a direct answer.

n“If you don’t want to drink it, just leave it there. I’ll pour it out for the innkeeper’s dog downstairs later; its stomach hasn’t been well these past few days,” Vivia said with a cold laugh, her hands not stopping as she skillfully tied Jelia’s braids.

nTypically, Howard was the one who did this job, somehow managing to tie braids better than both Antalya and Vivia, despite being a man.

nBut today, since Antalya had sent Howard and Ali out early, and Jelia hadn’t woken up yet, he hadn’t been around to do her hair.

nGreg opened his mouth but found himself at a loss for words.

nAlthough Vivia was a pharmacist, she wasn’t actually a member of the adventure group.

nShe helped prepare medicines out of friendship, but she wasn’t obligated to ensure he took them.

nGreg believed that if he truly decided not to drink it, Vivia would indeed give the medicine to the dog, and the dog would surely recover from its ailment.

nHowever, getting Vivia to prepare medicine for him in the future would become a challenge.

nVisit .

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