Chapter 97: Cutting the Grass

  “The heretic incident started by the Necromancer Guild in Aery has almost dealt a devastating blow to the local economy, and the imperial court is already paying great attention. Moreover, various nations have also expressed interest in the matter of the alliance you proposed…”

  “Enough…” Bishop Ronis waved his hand with extreme fatigue, stopping the High Priest from continuing his report. If the church hadn't inexplicably summoned the other two High Priests away at the last minute, he truly disliked having this subordinate handle these matters. He asked in a old and listless voice, “How is that wanted poster coming along?”

  High Priest Cuthbert took out a portrait, on which was clearly drawn the likeness of a young man, with a line of small text below it: This man was formerly a cleric of the Magic Academy. Investigation has confirmed he colluded with the Necromancer Guild; he is extremely dangerous. Bounty: 5,000 gold coins. This was different from the elves' wanted notices; it was not just through civilian organizations like the Adventurers' Guild and thief guilds, but using the power of the state and the church to hunt him across the entire continent.

  Five thousand gold coins. In the past ten years, the bounty for the largest and most dangerous thief gang on the continent was only a tenth of this man's. Once this wanted poster was circulated, every bounty hunter, thief organization, and mercenary group member would nail this slip of paper to their bedposts, memorize the shape of every single hair on his body, and use every means to find out what his personality was like, what his quirks were, his past experiences, his favorite foods, his walking habits, even his preferred posture for farting, and so on. And as long as the slightest rumor about him leaked out somewhere, the swarming, multifarious followers would absolutely number in the tens of thousands. Even the extent to which the former number one beauty in the world and the number one romantic scholar were admired and missed would be completely worthless compared to this person.

  Bishop Ronis's dim and scattered gaze glanced at the portrait of this person who was destined to be etched in countless hearts. He shook his head, let out a long sigh, and said, “You haven't forgotten the most important point, have you? It must be noted: under no circumstances can his life be harmed, he must be taken alive.”

  “Yes. I will prepare it immediately, and then notify the others to distribute it.” High Priest Cuthbert put away the portrait. His ugly face was full of excitement, and Bishop Ronis could even feel that his emotions were indeed a bit excessive. “Your Excellency the Bishop, you cultivated him so much, trusted him so much, who would have thought he would actually collude with the Necromancer Guild…”

  “Alright, you may withdraw. I am very tired.” Bishop Ronis waved his hand impatiently. “You will announce this matter to the others.”

  The matter had finally reached the step he least wanted to take. Although this matter had not been made public yet, it was only a matter of time. Once this wanted poster was issued, all his painstaking efforts and hopes would have gone down the drain. Bishop Ronis closed his eyes; he had never felt so old in his life.

  The High Priest did not withdraw from the small study, but stood in his place.

  “What is it? Is there something else?” The Bishop slightly opened his eyes.

  “There is also… Inham and Duke Mrak are requesting an audience with you.”

  “Inham? Why is he with the Duke? Let them in.” Bishop Ronis frowned. Although the Marquis was his friend, it was a very private relationship, and they rarely met in such a formal setting. And today, he came with Duke Mrak, which was even stranger. He suddenly sensed something unusual about the High Priest, looked at him, and asked, “What's wrong? Your heartbeat and breathing are chaotic. What are you nervous about?”

  “No… it's just… I was thinking of how you always cultivated that cleric with such dedication, who would have thought he would betray your efforts like this.” The High Priest lowered his head, and his rigid face twitched unnaturally. It seemed the excitement from just now had not yet subsided.

  Bishop Ronis let out a long sigh, shook his head, and said nothing. This subordinate had always been quite opinionated about his unconventional promotion of newcomers, probably out of jealousy. This was also someone who valued power and personal gain too highly.

  High Priest Cuthbert went out and led Inham and Duke Mrak in together, then the High Priest stood behind Bishop Ronis, while the Duke and the Marquis paid a formal salute to the Bishop together: “God be with you, Your Excellency the Bishop.”

  Bishop Ronis nodded slightly and asked, “There is another set of footsteps outside that came with you. Who is it?”

  “It is just one of my attendants. It is fine to let him wait outside.” The Duke answered very respectfully.

  Bishop Ronis asked, “What business do you two have with me?”

  Duke Mrak stepped forward first, lowered his head, and said, “I have already heard about that cleric colluding with the Necromancer Guild. So I came to report the situation to you. One evening a few days ago. I saw him jump out of my daughter's window and escape into the streets, where he disappeared. I went to ask my daughter, and although she said nothing, I could still tell that they must have… Alas, I have failed to discipline my daughter properly, to actually let my daughter be with someone like this…”

  “I don't believe you came here specifically to say such nonsense.” Bishop Ronis waved his hand. He was still just as listless, but the originally scattered and weak flame in his eyes suddenly flickered. He was in a very bad mood now, and very tired, with no interest or energy to engage in the formulaic, performative perfunctory exchanges common in official circles with the Duke.

  The Duke smiled, as if finally revealing a cunning expression that matched his temperament and intentions, and said, “What I mean is, if Your Excellency the Bishop truly wants to capture him, you might as well use my daughter as bait. As long as the news is spread through appropriate channels, letting him know of my daughter's critical situation, he will surely appear at the place and time we expect…” His expression returned to the sincerity from the beginning. “I only wish to share some of your worries, Your Excellency…”

  The flame in Bishop Ronis's eyes condensed again, its focus landing on the Duke's amiable face.

  This was indeed a very simple and effective method, and it also suited the Duke's unscrupulous way of handling things. But from a certain perspective, it was almost an inevitable trap. Bishop Ronis's heart stirred.

  But the Bishop's attention shifted immediately. He vaguely felt that even this seemingly sinister plan was not the Duke's real purpose for coming here; he had no need to curry favor with him or join forces with him.

  Bishop Ronis's gaze did not move from the Duke's face. There should be something unexpected beneath that fat, sincere face… But now, mentally and physically exhausted, he no longer had the energy to think deeper. Bishop Ronis's gaze involuntarily scattered again. He paid no more attention to the Duke, but looked at Inham and asked, “What is your business?”

  “I have already heard the news of his escape.” The Marquis said in a low voice. “I am very surprised.”

  “I am equally surprised.” Bishop Ronis sighed again. He had sighed many times today. I am truly old, he thought.

  “I also heard that he didn't even see you, and just left directly. Is that so?”

  Bishop Ronis nodded with a listless posture unique to an old man.

  “Did he not leave any message or verbal note for you?”

  Bishop Ronis shook his head.

  “Oh.” The Marquis nodded. He looked very strange today, without his usual liveliness and energy. He hesitated for a moment, then also sighed, a sigh full of helplessness and powerlessness. “Actually, I came today because there is something I must say to you.”

  “We can talk about it slowly later. I am very tired.”

  “No. It must be said now, and it must be said here.” The Marquis's expression actually showed a seriousness and gravity that seemed completely incompatible with his personality.

  Bishop Ronis waved his hand at the Duke and the High Priest: “You both withdraw for now.”

  The Marquis, however, resolutely waved his hand and said, “No need. This is a very important matter. They must be here as well.”

  Bishop Ronis frowned. Today, everyone seemed a bit strange. He was really very tired, very annoyed, and yet these things were getting more and more baffling, one after another.

  “You know, I actually have very few friends.” The Marquis stepped forward, his expression and voice both lonely. He lowered his voice, and suddenly used air magic to prevent his voice from carrying, so only the two of them could hear their conversation.

  “If a person's identity is very special, whether high or low, good or bad, it is difficult for them to make true friends.” The Marquis continued. He raised his head and sighed, then lowered his head to look at Ronis, the sorrow in his eyes deepening.

  Bishop Ronis couldn't help but nod slightly and let out a long sigh. This was true. He was probably the person who understood this best. Although this didn't seem like the right place or time for such a topic, Bishop Ronis believed that the Marquis must have had some special reason. He could feel an unusual emotion in his friend's eyes.

  The Marquis walked up to Bishop Ronis, reached out, and grasped his withered, thin hands. “And you are one of my friends.” The loneliness and helplessness in his eyes deepened, even turning to grief. His hand was ice-cold, his grip tight, his words sincere. “Ever since she died, you have been very good to me and have trusted me very much for these twenty years. I have also truly regarded you as a good friend.”

  Bishop Ronis felt Cuthbert's breathing behind him suddenly become heavy, and his heartbeat quickened. He was probably angry at this very impolite act from someone he had always looked down upon.

  Duke Mrak in front of them, however, still wore that same sincere and honest expression.

  The Bishop vaguely felt that something was wrong, but he couldn't say exactly what.

  “But now I must tell you something. I know you will be very shocked when you hear it.” The Marquis lowered his head, leaning close to Bishop Ronis's ear. Although their conversation was inaudible to others, he still used this posture, as if it were a truly secret and very embarrassing matter. His voice was still as sincere. “Do you remember that vampire from last time? I was the one who released it… I am actually a Necromancer. Today I am here to help them kill you.”

  The light in Bishop Ronis's eyes suddenly flared up, condensing, almost turning into two real flames that illuminated the old friend before him. Shock, anger, unwillingness, grief—these expressions instantly crowded onto his gaunt face.

  He was so shocked and angry not only because of this confession that completely exceeded his imagination, but also because of the killing intent and the sliver of coldness that appeared behind him.

  There was no pain, only a cool, tingling, and numb sensation that instantly entered his body from the skin on his back, its tip almost reaching his heart. This seemingly not-too-intense sensation was madly devouring the vitality of the surrounding tissues, and even the magical power within his body showed signs of solidifying. This was not just poison, but also a vicious poison with a strong curse.

  This blade could only be the work of High Priest Cuthbert, who was standing behind him.

  It was a despicable stab, and also a very clumsy one.

  The High Priest was by no means a good killer. From the very beginning, his breathing and heartbeat were completely abnormal, and the killing intent that burst out before he struck was also clearly perceptible. Even a person who was not particularly skilled should have been able to detect it in advance and dodge it.

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  But Bishop Ronis failed to notice. Because he was truly very tired, his mind and spirit were already exhausted. Even if he had noticed this subordinate's abnormality, he had not investigated it further. Moreover, the words spoken from the Marquis's mouth were too shocking, leaving him with no time to react to the killing intent that appeared behind him. Thus, this fatal sneak attack succeeded smoothly.

  But a successful sneak attack did not mean the assassination was also successful.

  White magic instantly surged torrentially within Bishop Ronis's body towards the wound on his back. Without any need to recite prayers, the lights of two high-level healing spells, “Rebirth in Flames” and “Exorcise & Banish,” immediately flashed on his body, and the curse and injury were immediately suppressed. In terms of the mastery of light and white magic alone, perhaps even the Pope on the continent could not necessarily surpass Bishop Ronis. No matter how severe the wound or how powerful the curse, as long as it was not instantly fatal, it could be suppressed under the full force of his white magic.

  The face of High Priest Cuthbert behind him had already changed. He had been nervous all along, and when he saw the light of the healing magic, he became even more frightened. He knew better than anyone what level of magical prowess was represented by instantly casting these two high-level healing spells. Only then did he discover that this old man's magical power had long ago exceeded their expectations and imagination.

  He drew the assassination dagger and this time stabbed fiercely towards Bishop Ronis's head and neck. An ugly face, twisted by ferocity and tension, no longer looked human.

  Unfortunately, this blade only struck a suddenly appearing, blue-white electric light shield behind Bishop Ronis. With a crackle, the High Priest's whole body was knocked back.

  From the moment Cuthbert made his move, the Duke had stood there without moving, his face still wearing that sincere expression. Only when the High Priest was knocked back did the corner of his eye twitch.

  Although he had long known that Bishop Ronis would not be easy to deal with, he never imagined he would be this difficult to handle.

  The poison on that dagger was enough to kill an elephant. But this old, withered man at the end of his life not only endured it but could also instantly cast magic to knock down his attacker in an instant.

  But even so, the Duke still did not move; he could not move yet. He was the final link in the entire plan. If he could not succeed, the entire plan would fail. He had to wait for the absolute final moment. Now was the time when the poisonous curse on the dagger and Bishop Ronis's white magic were in a stalemate.

  Just at this moment, perceptible only to Bishop Ronis, another magical fluctuation was silently transmitted from the hand holding his at this very opportune moment.

  The Marquis's face was still as sorrowful and stagnant. His grip was tight, and Bishop Ronis could not pull his hand away even with force.

  The transmitted magical fluctuation was not sharp, nor was it turbulent. It was just like thick, foul-smelling mud, continuously pouring into his body, staining the tissues along its path, turning them black, and then using that highly corrosive aura to pull at the body's magical fluctuations and resonance. The two healing spells he had just cast on himself immediately collapsed like mud under the soak of this foul water.

  “Fleshrot,” this was a dual erosion of Necromancy and dark magic. If his body hadn't been surging with sacred white magic, his tissues would have turned into a lump of rotten flesh that even rats and flies would have no interest in the moment they came into contact with this fluctuation.

  “You…” Bishop Ronis's voice was already hoarse. Magical power surged out of his body, and white electric sparks began to erupt around his body, immediately condensing into five pure white spheres of light.

  “Spirits of lightning, wrath of thunder, I in my name…” Bishop Ronis finally roared out the hoarse incantation. He had given up healing, gathering all his magic to launch an attack. The five spheres of Thunderblast Bomb floated and arranged themselves in a pentagram formation in the void above his head. The electric light in the middle began to take on a milky-white, holy radiance, gradually evolving into a magic circle. This was his final strike, cast at the cost of all his magic and life. As long as he completed his incantation, these three would absolutely not be able to escape unscathed.

  Titan's Divine Wrath. This was a Forbidden Spell formed from the fusion of light and air magic.

  This was almost a spell that existed only in theory. A mage capable of cultivating both air and light magic to the highest level was rare in a hundred years. Most importantly, the power of this spell was simply uncontrollable; its unimaginable destructive force would pulverize everything, including the caster, within a radius of several miles.

  But Bishop Ronis was using this spell now. He was not afraid of harming innocents, nor was he afraid that the entire Magic Academy would be shattered in this massive explosion. That would be better than having the Magic Academy, or even the entire empire, fall into the hands of these three assassins.

  He already understood that this was a long-planned assassination, and the depth and viciousness of its significance were probably something even the two assassins themselves would not understand. He had to use this method of mutual destruction to inform Sandro…

  Just at this moment, Duke Mrak moved. The moment he moved, that kind and sincere expression vanished completely, replaced by an extremely stern killing intent. It turned out that his fat face, which seemed to天生 carry a kind expression, could also appear so majestic and sharp when it turned completely cold and severe.

  He was very clear what a full-force strike from a top-tier archmage at the moment of death meant. He had to wait, wait for Bishop Ronis to make his move, wait for the Bishop's magic to near its end, when he could no longer change his technique, and then strike, allowing his own attack to be fatal while also interrupting the magic.

  He stepped forward, drew his sword, and stabbed—all in one fluid motion. His chubby body now displayed the swift speed and coordination of a cheetah. From the moment he moved to the next, he was already before Bishop Ronis, the thin sword in his hand accurately stabbing into the Bishop's Adam's apple.

  The sound of the incantation immediately choked off. The last few syllables remained in his throat, unable to break through the obstruction of the sword blade and rush out. The thin sword pierced through from the bottom up, emerging from the nape of the Bishop's neck, so accurately that it pierced his throat without even touching a bone.

  This was an injury from which no magic or healing could recover, or in other words, a fatal wound.

  Perhaps he really was right to leave. Bishop Ronis only had time to have this vague thought. His body slumped and fell softly onto the table. One of the most powerful mages on the continent, the most prestigious Bishop of the church, the spiritual pillar of the Ainfast Empire, this old man who still held onto the great hope of light, died just like that.

  The assassination was a success.

  But there was no trace of relaxation or joy on Duke Mrak's face. The expression of the High Priest beside him, whose face was already pale, began to twist, and his face turned even greener. They were both looking at the five white spheres surrounded by electric light floating in the air.

  The magic circle had disappeared. Titan's Divine Wrath could no longer be activated. The thunder magic array in the air had reverted to ordinary Thunderblast Bombs, their power now worlds apart from that of a Forbidden Spell.

  But even so, these five were still the most powerful high-level spells in air magic. Just one of them alone was enough to blast this small room to pieces. They might be able to rely on their own abilities to escape, or to survive the explosion, but everything that had happened here would also be impossible to hide in the blast.

  Duke Mrak and the High Priest couldn't help but stop breathing. The five Thunderblast Bombs were just floating lightly in the air; a slight air current could cause them to collide with each other, or drift out and hit a wall or other object. The Duke's narrow eyes now held none of their usual gentleness; a sharp, knife-like glare viciously stabbed at the High Priest's face, which was now the same color as the floor. He himself was not a mage and did not know how to resolve the current situation.

  Only then did the High Priest sober from his terror. He first circled his arms, aiming at the five Thunderblast Bombs in the air, and chanted an incantation under his breath. Only then did he look at Duke Mrak and say, “My mastery of air magic isn't that high; I can only stabilize the magic like this… I'll have to rely on you to find a way.”

  “Come and help. You don't want to die either, do you?” Duke Mrak said to the Marquis. Although he wasn't very clear about the Marquis's level of magic, and wasn't even sure if this prodigal son who had only spent some time at the Magic Academy even remembered how to use magic now, nor did he trust this helper who had been coerced at the last minute, there was no one else he could count on now.

  But the Marquis didn't move, as if he hadn't heard. It wasn't just that he hadn't heard; it seemed he hadn't seen the five small things floating above his head that could turn him into meat paste. His expression was full of melancholy, loneliness, and apology, and he still held the hand of Bishop Ronis, whom he had ambushed and killed, looking at the Bishop's eyes, which could not close completely.

  Duke Mrak glared fiercely at this good-for-nothing prodigal son. There was no time for this now. Cuthbert would not be able to maintain the air in a static state for long, and hoping for these small things to dissipate on their own was impossible. He could only act himself.

  The Duke composed himself, took a deep breath. He stood firm, slowly extended his hand, and slowly brought the thin sword that had just killed Bishop Ronis to the side of one of the spheres of light. Only when the tip of the sword was almost touching the edge of the sphere of light did his hand and shoulder suddenly exert force.

  The thin sword and his wrist moved at a speed barely visible to the naked eye, looking like just a tremor. The sphere of light began to brighten, then scattered into countless tiny white points of light that dissipated into the air.

  The Duke let out a long breath. This method, thought of on the spot, was indeed effective. But a layer of fine sweat had also soaked his forehead.

  Not just from nervousness, but also from exhaustion. In that seemingly half-blink of an eye, he had relied solely on the strength of his wrist to strike out dozens of times, and he had also imbued the sword with sword qi, only then managing to completely destroy the entire structure of the magic before the violent magical power brewing within the thunder sphere could react. His technique, speed, and sword qi were all brought to the fullest, without the slightest deviation. Such a precise, minute, and swift strike consumed no less energy and spirit than a great battle.

  The Duke composed himself, stood firm again, slowly extended his sword, and after another swift series of strikes, the second Thunderblast Bomb was once again completely decomposed into simple, scattered magical elements. Sweat was now pouring down the Duke's face.

  When the third Thunderblast Bomb turned into points of light again, it also let out a small crackle. Under the shock of this fluctuation, the other two thunder spheres moved and almost collided. The Duke retreated a few steps, a flush passed over his face, and then it all faded to pallor.

  The Duke's back was already soaked. The third sword just now had already been a bit beyond his ability; his sword qi and sword speed had shown flaws. Most critically, the magical impact of the electricity from the decomposing thunder sphere had almost knocked him away. His right shoulder and even half of his body were now numb.

  Cuthbert's ugly face had turned the color of dried pig's liver. Maintaining such a static air environment was a bit of a strain for his level of cultivation, and everyone could see he couldn't hold on for much longer.

  There were still two floating in the air. The spheres of light were not large, their pure white color and the surrounding electric light making them look rather beautiful, emitting a faint sizzling sound. But the way the Duke looked at them was like looking at two terrifying ancient behemoths.

  The Duke closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Sweat trickled down his fat face, gathering at his chin and dripping down drop by drop. He suddenly exhaled and made a sound, striking out with his sword again. The fourth Thunderblast Bomb was finally decomposed again. But it was also followed by a muffled sound.

  The sound was not loud, far from enough to alert the people in the great cathedral outside. Even though the Duke was very tired, this sword, which concentrated almost all his spirit and energy, still managed to sever almost all the magical fluctuations in the thunder sphere, shattering them, with only about a thousandth of the magical power reacting and causing a small explosion.

  The power of this explosion wasn't even as much as a large firecracker, absolutely incapable of harming anyone, but in the current situation, it was absolutely fatal. The last Thunderblast Bomb floating unsteadily in the air, although it did not explode directly, was shaken by this explosion and flew towards the nearby wall.

  Cuthbert's ugly face darkened, and he slumped to the ground. Protecting this deadly little thing from instantly turning into a massive explosion from the shock had already consumed all of his mental strength, which he had been strenuously supporting.

  The Duke's face was no better. The last sword had been his limit; it was absolutely impossible to strike another one in a short time. And without sufficient sword qi, speed, and technique, to strike again at a magical sphere filled with destructive explosive power was like taking a burning torch to poke a stick of dynamite.

  The Thunderblast Bomb was not flying fast; one could see it very clearly. For the first time, a look of despair appeared in the Duke's eyes. He, who never believed in any religion and had just killed the Bishop with his own hands, even began to pray to the heavens for a miracle to happen.

  But a miracle happened to occur. Just as the white sphere of light was about to touch the wall, it suddenly stopped, then made a turn, flew out from the small window above, and in the blink of an eye, shot into the sky and disappeared from sight.

  The Duke stared blankly for a good while, then turned his head to look at the creator of this miracle. It was the Marquis, who had been standing there motionless all along.

  The Marquis lowered the hand he had raised to cast the air magic. Looking at the Duke's astonished gaze, he said lightly, “It's nothing. This isn't any profound magic. These little tricks are just about the only thing I can still handle.” His expression was still gloomy. He sighed as he looked at Bishop Ronis's body on the floor, his eyes full of sorrow and grief. “You should do what you have to do.”

  The Duke's narrow eyes narrowed, not hiding his guarded expression at all, scanning back and forth across the Marquis's handsome and refined face, which perfectly matched his identity as a prodigal son and artist, but he found nothing noteworthy. He turned his head to look at the High Priest, who was struggling to get up from the floor, and asked with a frown, “Are you alright?”

  “I'm fine.” Cuthbert took a few breaths, shook his head, and gave the Marquis, this degenerate he had always looked down on, a somewhat surprised look. But he wasn't very shocked either. This truly wasn't any profound great magic, just a more exquisite mastery of air magic. Perhaps this degenerate just liked to use these little tricks to fool people.

  The Duke nodded, finding some reassurance in the High Priest's expression. He raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his face, let out a long sigh of satisfaction, and then the corners of his mouth curled into his signature smile. His expression completely returned to his usual kind and friendly state, and he said to Cuthbert as casually as a merchant who had just completed a satisfactory deal and was now waiting to wrap things up, “Then let's continue.”

  Cuthbert laboriously moved Bishop Ronis's body to a corner, pulled a tea table in front of it, and then walked out.

  Not long after, when the High Priest came back in, he was leading a person. It was the person whose footsteps Bishop Ronis had heard standing outside the door earlier. He was a young man in his twenties, quite thin and tall, with a figure and appearance five or six points similar to Ethan's, and he was also wearing a set of cleric's robes, with a hat on his head that covered half of his face. He looked around with a bit of restraint and curiosity, but immediately lowered his head and dared not move under the gaze of High Priest Cuthbert.

  He was originally just a street punk from a small town outside the capital. A few days ago, he was inexplicably captured by a few people, and then these people, who looked like nobles and officials, said they would arrange a task for him, and there would be a great reward for completing it. He never thought that today he would be dressed like this and brought to the capital's Magic Academy.

  The High Priest took out a small leather pouch from his robe and threw it to the young man, saying, “Pour this on yourself.” The young man opened the pouch, and it turned out to be a small bag of blood. He followed the High Priest's instructions and poured the blood on himself and his face.

  “Alright. Now you turn and run out of here, out of the Magic Academy. Do you still remember the route we arranged for you?” High Priest Cuthbert glared with a very imposing look. “Hmm? Do you remember?”

  “I remember…” The young man nodded in terror.

  “Don't be afraid. We are just playing a game.” The Duke's kind voice always made people feel calm, and besides, he had taken out a gold coin from his hand, which immediately made the young man shake off his fear and fill him with the will to obey. “Listen, if you get there faster than the time we expect, I will reward you with another gold coin.”

  “Yes.” The young man's powerful reply indicated he would immediately create the fastest footsteps of his life.

  “Go on.” The Duke waved his hand grandly, and the young man immediately showed the expected drive and ran out with his legs.

  There were already many people in the great cathedral outside; this had all been arranged by Cuthbert. When the young man rushed out with full force, he definitely bumped into people, because faint screams came from inside. “Isn't that the cleric?” “Are you injured, Your Excellency? So much blood…” “Please be careful, Your Excellency the cleric…”

  Finally, even a smile began to appear on Cuthbert's rigid face. As for the young man running with such gusto, with the motivation of the gold coin, his footsteps were definitely not something the people who chased after him later could catch up to. As long as he followed the route that had been set for him in advance, he would soon disappear into the streets of the capital. And then, before long, he would disappear from this world forever. Because his purpose had been fulfilled, and things whose purpose is fulfilled must disappear.

  The blue light of teleportation magic suddenly lit up in the room. The Marquis beside him had somehow unfurled a teleportation scroll. After the light faded, he was gone.

  “What is that idiot doing? Where did he get a teleportation scroll?” Cuthbert stared fiercely at the air where the Marquis had disappeared and said.

  “He's no idiot.” The Duke smiled with ease. “He's very smart. He knows his usefulness is over. So he fled quickly.”

  “We must find a way to silence this guy, right, Your Grace the Du…” The High Priest had only spoken halfway when he suddenly felt himself flying. His lips were still moving, but no sound could come out.

  Flying in mid-air, he also rolled a few times, taking in everything in the room. Bishop Ronis's body was still over there, and the Duke was wiping the blood from his sword while backing away, because he needed to avoid the splattering blood. In front of the Duke, a headless corpse's neck was shooting blood high into the air, and the body was slumping down. Its figure and clothing looked very familiar.

  Thud. He fell to the floor, looking up at the Duke crookedly, and vaguely heard the Duke say softly, “Yeah. I know.”

  The Duke turned around and carefully erased every footprint he had made in the room, eliminating every trace of his presence. Everything at the Magic Academy had been very well arranged by the High Priest. He and the Marquis had both come here secretly. Everyone else only knew that Cuthbert and that cleric had come to the Bishop's study, and then saw the cleric, covered in blood, run out.

  After quickly tidying up, he unfurled a teleportation scroll, and the next moment, the travel-worn Duke appeared in the Magic Academy's teleportation magic circle.

  “Hello, Your Grace the Duke.” The two mages guarding the magic circle nodded and smiled at the Duke. “On business outside again? You've been quite busy these past few days.”

  “Yes.” The never-arrogant Duke nodded kindly. “There are urgent matters in other places and the capital that need handling. I've used quite a few teleportation scrolls these past few days.”

  A sudden commotion came from the direction of the great cathedral. “What's going on?” The two mages and the Duke walked out together. They saw many people surging in and out of the great cathedral. The commotion was spreading at a rapid pace.

  “The Bishop and the High Priest have been killed.” A priest ran over, his face panicked, stumbling all the way.

  “What?” The two mages were both shocked. The Duke's face was even more utterly horrified.