Azure Scepter

Page 183

"Oh, my lord, what do you suggest we do? We really have no idea," the dwarf continued with a fawning smile. "I have some dry rations here, would you like to take them with you?"

The knight sneered, "I don't need food that only the lowly would eat—you say you don't know the man's whereabouts, then what about the blood-stained bandages on your table? I'll never forget that smell of blood, and I'll never mistake it..."

“This bandage was used by Lord Trier,” the dwarf replied. “Lord Trier was a respectable paladin; he certainly never went to the territory of Earl Bortard.”

"The young duke?" The knight chuckled in a low voice, as if he had heard a joke. "Do you think I'm a fool?"

“Uh, Duke?” The dwarf blinked in confusion. “My lord, is there some misunderstanding here? Lord Trier helped us defeat the undead horde, and every survivor in the town knows that. You can ask anyone and you’ll get the same answer. I wouldn’t lie to you about something so obvious, would I?”

The knight didn't answer. He glanced around and then asked in a deep voice, "Where are the guards?"

At that moment, the dwarf suddenly had a strong intuition that the other party wanted to make a move!

“This is the Earldom of Harlan, not the Earldom of Bortard. We are all under the protection of Earl Cohen. If you’re looking for trouble, you’ve come to the wrong place.” His friend finally couldn’t hold back any longer. He retorted sharply, his hand already gripping his long-handled warhammer.

The dwarf breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his friend take the initiative to play the bad cop.

His face flushed red, but he softened his tone and said, "My lord, although we don't know where the person you're tracking is, a wanted criminal with such distinctive features would definitely not dare to enter a town. You can try looking in the wild; the firelight from their campsites at night is quite conspicuous. If you need, you can also borrow a few hunting dogs. Old Bourne's hunting dogs are all excellent bloodhunters, and I can take you to Old Bourne anytime."

“Oh, by the way, you can also check out the Thunder Iron Watchtower at the back of town—I heard that something’s been going on there lately, maybe some refugees and wanderers have settled there, and that terrible wanted criminal might be living there.” The dwarf smiled kindly and spoke sincerely.

—That's pure nonsense. The dwarves know perfectly well that there's nothing in the Thunder Iron Watchtower except for the resurrected undead.

"Hmph." The knight snorted coldly, then nodded. "Very reasonable."

As soon as he said those words, the tense and oppressive atmosphere suddenly dissipated.

The dwarf and his friend immediately breathed a sigh of relief.

The knight turned around, walked back to the horse draped in a black cloak, and reached into the horse's saddlebag to retrieve something.

"What kind of reward is this?" the dwarf wondered expectantly. He stood on tiptoe and looked at the knight with longing eyes.

The next moment, the black-clad knight seemed to grasp something.

The dwarf peered further in—and there was a steel sword covered in dried blood in the other man's hand.

"I've said it before, my patience for deception is very limited." The Black Knight's voice was cold and dry, like a ghost wandering in the cold wind.

Before he could finish speaking, a chilling sword light, accompanied by a strong wind, swept towards him. The rich smell of blood, along with the sharp buzzing sound, made every pore of the dwarf's body seem to scream.

why? !

Caught off guard, the dwarf could only watch helplessly as the blade came hurtling toward his face!

Once the blow lands, you will be doomed!

"careful!"

The next moment, the dwarf felt a tremendous force coming from behind him, and he was thrown to the ground—at the last second, his friend pushed him away.

However, his friend's throat was slit, and blood splattered everywhere in an instant.

Warm blood splattered onto the dwarf's face, and he froze.

The Black Knight's blade didn't stop, and in an instant, the longsword slid down his friend's left shoulder to his right ribs. In less than half a breath, blood gushed out from the wound like a punctured balloon. But the gushing blood didn't fall to the ground; instead, it flowed into the sword like seawater blown away by a hurricane.

"Clap."

As his friend's severed body fell to the ground, the dwarf blinked. Only then did he realize that his friend's remains were shriveled up. All his muscles had dissolved, and his skin, completely dehydrated, drooped over the bones like old tree bark. The empty eye sockets met his gaze directly.

He's dead, he's dead...

The dwarf was enraged, his fury churning like flames in his chest. He sprang to his feet, grabbed his hammer, and pounced like a wild beast, smashing it down on his enemy's knee.

The next moment, he heard the enemy's contemptuous snort again.

"Humph."

It was incredibly fast and dazzlingly flashy. With a single sword strike, the dwarf's right hand, holding the hammer, was severed at the root. With another sword strike, the dwarf's left knee was instantly shattered. With yet another sword strike, his left hand also vanished. All of this happened in the blink of an eye.

In excruciating pain, the dwarf's vision went dark. In the last second before losing his balance, he desperately and resolutely opened his mouth to bite his enemy.

However, due to the incorrect way he exerted force, he slipped and fell directly into his own blood.

"Clap."

The boots stepped into a pool of blood, and the scalding blood splashed into the dwarf's eyes, turning the whole world crimson.

The dwarf gasped for breath in agony. The phantom pain from his severed limbs blurred his vision, while the massive bleeding chilled him to the bone, and the gurgling sound of blood further clouded his consciousness. He never imagined that death would come so suddenly and so quickly.

"You think you're so clever, you little dwarf?" The Black Knight's chilling voice came from above the dwarf's head. "You think your little lie can fool me?"

"Why?" the dwarf uttered through gritted teeth.

“More than a decade ago, there was a mad serial killer who slaughtered many of my compatriots. He killed all my closest relatives.” The Black Knight squatted on the ground and slapped the dwarf’s face with a bandage stained with Trier’s blood. “I will never forget the smell of his blood. Your lie may be logically consistent, but more than a decade ago, the person who had the good fortune to usurp the duke’s throne was not yet an adult, so your lie was exposed.”

"What the hell are you talking about? What does this have to do with that guy covered in pus?"

"That man covered in pus killed one of my kin. His modus operandi is exactly the same as that serial killer's. He is that murderer." The Black Knight sneered. "You say you've never seen him? That's utterly absurd. You will pay for it. You will all pay."

Suddenly, a scream came from not far away, followed by the sound of a heavy object falling to the ground.

The dwarf looked up and saw his friend's fiancée, Jeroen, who seemed stunned and dropped the stewed mutton she was holding.

"No...no...this isn't real..." she murmured to herself, staring at her friend's corpse.

Further away, several soldiers from the garrison finally reacted. The sergeant sounded the alarm, and the others rushed over to rescue the people.

"Hmph, we still have to kill them all." The Black Knight sneered again, slowly standing up.

"Run!" the dwarf shouted with his last ounce of strength. "Jelowen, run!"

However, the warning came too late. The rider in black turned around and suddenly charged at his friend's fiancée, Jeroen.

The dwarf was furious, but he was completely helpless. He couldn't even make a sound; his roar turned into a weak whimper due to the massive bleeding.

Anger, regret, confusion—a complex mix of emotions fermented under the influence of helplessness, ultimately turning into a boiling resentment.

In that moment of utter despair, the dwarf suddenly vaguely remembered the rumors about Trier being a saint, so he used his last bit of strength to bite down on the blood-stained bandage that had fallen to the ground.

The next moment, Trier's will was projected.

Chapter 347 Ambition, Invitation to Conspiracy

When Trier's consciousness projected over Beaver Town, the first thing he saw was a dwarf lying in a pool of blood, with a bandage clenched in the dwarf's mouth.

His gaze shifted slightly, and he immediately saw the mummified corpse next to the dwarf, cleanly cleaved in two, and the black-robed vampire on the street, wielding a longsword and exuding murderous intent. Facing several town guards, the vampire did not retreat but advanced, dragging its sword as it slowly met them, the cold blade reflecting its stern and resolute face.

"Is this vampire going to massacre the town?" Trier exclaimed in shock.

Although the Southern Duchy is currently in a state of disarray, a massacre in broad daylight is still far too outrageous, to the point that even Trier finds it hard to believe.

Of all the prayers concerning the safety of life, this is the first one caused by malicious killing, especially since it involves the massacre of the town!

It's absolutely crazy.

The next moment, Trier directly unleashed the divine power he had accumulated.

Time seemed to stand still—

The bandage in the dwarf's mouth instantly burst into flames, scattering intense sparks everywhere.

Almost simultaneously, the vampire in the distance suddenly froze, and the blood flowing from the demonic sword in his hand suddenly surged and then splashed backward. In less than half a breath, the blood turned into a surging wave of blood, flowing back into the blacksmith's shop as if time had reversed.

At the same time, the mummified corpse, which had been split in two, was reassembled on Mars. Blood flowed into the mummified corpse along the sword wound, and the shriveled skin swelled up instantly. The dissolved muscles also recombined under the influence of divine power.

The next moment, the pool of blood beneath the dwarf returned to his body like sewage absorbed by a sponge, while his severed limbs stuck back to the wounds like iron blocks attracted by a magnet.

In the warm, golden light, the dwarf's hazy consciousness gradually returned. He suddenly opened his eyes and met his friend's gaze, who had come back from the dead.

"What did you do?" his friend asked in surprise.

The dwarf quickly gathered the embers of the bandage: "It's a bandage! I bit into the bandage! Trier really is a saint!"

At that moment, the black-robed vampire was about to raise his sword to kill the peasant woman blocking his way, but he had already sensed the strange flow of blood, so he turned around in surprise to look at the blacksmith shop.

Trier did not intend to kill the vampire himself. He slightly focused his will, reached out and grabbed the spear on the wall of the blacksmith's shop, and the spear was immediately bound by divine power.

Trier stared at the vampire, then with a flick of his wrist, threw it.

In an instant, dazzling golden holy light suddenly tore through the crimson blood mist. With a thunderous roar, the spear, like a burning meteor, swayed with a golden tail flame and slammed straight into the vampire's chest.

Driven by the terrifying kinetic energy of divine power, the vampire was flung away at almost teleportation speed. The ear-piercing sonic boom echoed throughout the entire street, and the next instant, it was pinned to the entrance of the small church on the north side of Beaver Town.

"Boom!" The spear shaft shattered layer by layer, and radial cracks spread along the wall from the spear tip. Dust fell in a flurry from between the vines and ivy on the wall.

Perhaps by coincidence, the tomb of the legendary paladin lies beneath this small chapel.

The vampire was pinned in mid-air, his legs trembling uncontrollably. He reached out to cover his wound, but blood slowly flowed down the black wool of his cloak. After a moment, he became completely still.

The next instant, in Trier's vision, a golden ball of light slowly emerged from the vampire's corpse and then flew into the sky.

"I've gained experience points." Trier glanced at the experience points and was then surprised to find that this vampire was actually a high-level professional.

Now, even without using his life-or-death power, he can easily kill high-level professionals with his normal combat strength alone.

"Why would a high-ranking vampire want to massacre this town?" Trillen was immediately puzzled.

The next moment, he cast a divination spell and learned the cause and effect of the matter.

“It’s Count Bortard again.” Trier put down his scepter, his consciousness returning to Eraf’s basement.

He sat in the chair and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

"We need to find a way to completely get rid of this cancer."

The fully healed dwarf, his friend who had come back from the dead, a dozen or so members of the garrison, and even more armed townspeople, all cautiously approached the small church in the north of the town. Then everyone saw the blood flowing meandering on the ground, and at the end of the blood, a vampire nailed to the wall.

People looked at each other in bewilderment. After a long while, the dwarf stepped forward, smashed the vampire's head hard with his hammer, then turned around and shouted, "Dead!"

Upon hearing this, the friend who had miraculously returned from the dead immediately embraced his fiancée, and both of them burst into tears.

"What on earth happened?" a guard couldn't help but ask. "Have the Silent Whisperers come back again?"

The dwarf put down his hammer and said solemnly, "I don't know either. I only know that this monster was dealt with by the divine punishment of Saint Trier."

"Divine punishment?!" The guard was dumbfounded. He instinctively wanted to retort, but when he thought of the exaggerated speed of the spear just now, he wisely shut his mouth.

“It’s nailed to the church wall; it must be some kind of revelation,” said the moneylender who had retired from the Wirth infantry. “I’m willing to provide a golden dragon to build a new icon, and Lord Trier will surely become the patron saint of our town.”

“But there are no priests in the town anymore,” someone countered.

“There will be a new pastor.” The moneylender’s eyes gleamed, and he couldn’t hide the smile on his face, as if he could already see some bright future.

Perhaps, he could become a pastor!

The others, however, were unaware of the lender's inner thoughts; they simply perceived him as grinning foolishly at the corpse.

Time passed day by day, but a leisurely life is always short-lived.

Three days later at noon, a banshee hired without pay by the mind flayer lich brought a letter to Trier.

—A reply has arrived from the vampire industrialist of the City That Never Sleeps, who stands behind Count Bortard.

As is customary in the City That Never Sleeps, Trier gave the burial banshee a bronze stag as payment. Although the reward was meager, the banshee flew around the room with great joy.

Ignoring the bizarre harbinger of death, Trier tore open the scarlet lacquer on the envelope and began reading the letter.

The vampire businessman's attitude toward his proposal will directly determine Count Bortard's fate.

"To the savior of the Southern Duchy, the destroyer of Loseville, the protector of all half-humans, the benevolent and noble Lord Trier."

"Please forgive my bluntness, but my long life of battling with gold coins has made me lose the ability to use those convoluted and inefficient compliments, so I can only say some simple and straightforward words. I hope you will understand."

“I fully agree to all your requests. I have also completed the negotiations with the dwarves of Shining Peak. The first batch of diamonds will arrive by sea no later than the last week of this month. I originally planned to use a portal, but the Kingdom of Orko is indeed short of the necessary mage workforce, so this plan has to be abandoned.”

“I heard about the horrific atrocities that occurred in Beaver Town a few days ago, and I am deeply sorry for it. However, according to my investigation, it was purely the personal act of that investigator. Nevertheless, I am still willing to provide the victims with the necessary compensation, which will arrive along with the gold coins.”

Trier nodded slightly, and at the same time sighed.

—It seems we can't kill Count Bortard after all. The time traveler couldn't help but feel a little regretful.

He picked up the letter and continued reading.

"In addition, your vassal, Count Bortard, is mentally unstable and is gradually losing control. Even I cannot fully control his actions, which has greatly jeopardized our common interests. But please rest assured, I guarantee that I will replace him with a reliable agent."

"However, I also have a rather untimely personal request: Your vassal is one of my few lovers, but as he gradually goes mad, his power is also increasing day by day. Now even I have no confidence in capturing him alive. So, could you please condescend to capture this mad beast alive and hand him over to me?"

“I have a fairly complete plan. Every year at the beginning of the second month, your vassal will hold a hunting competition (please don’t misunderstand, it’s just the most ordinary prey, definitely not some kind of killing contest). Before the hunting competition, he will hold a banquet, and that will be our opportunity—I will put pressure on him to invite you, and I will also take the opportunity to sneak in. When the hunting competition begins, we can work together to kidnap him. If you are interested, we can discuss the specific details later.”

? !

Trier blinked incredulously—an invitation to a kidnapping conspiracy?! What kind of unexpected twist was this?

"Finally, I sincerely invite you to visit the goblin breeding operation. I believe that after your visit, you will agree that goblin breeding is a new direction for social development. As a half-human, I also look forward to your guidance. Sincerely, Your humble and needy believer, Somerther Pale Elegy."

I have bad news and need to take leave.