Chapter 97

September 4th, morning.

The monastery was under full lockdown, prohibiting any believers from entering. Six temple guards, clad in heavy armor, stood at the entrance of the monastery, their heavy long swords, ready for slashing, gleaming in the sunlight, exuding a chilling aura from afar. Despite the bloodstains on the ground being thoroughly cleaned, the dark red hue remained, and the atmosphere under the sunlight was grim, as if the monastery had severed all ties with the outside world, becoming an isolated island.

Under such strict lockdown, Sally still managed to contact her subordinates. After her conversation with Bishop Benjamin, many things could no longer be kept secret, so the duke's daughter decided not to hide anything from the bishop. She immediately sent people to look for Rody and hoped to meet him as soon as possible to resolve the crisis.

Sally believed that revealing the information to Bishop Benjamin without Rody's consent was a matter of varying importance. She trusted that Rody, after weighing the pros and cons, would understand her intentions. She eagerly anticipated their reunion and had already thought about how to explain everything to him.

By noon, Martin, the subordinate Sally had assigned to find Rody, had arrived in the Cambay district and was about to push open the door of the "Pig's Head Bar."

Martin was dressed as a commoner, blending in so well that he could easily be lost in a crowd. After searching for a while, he finally found the inconspicuous entrance. Just as he was about to push the door, it was suddenly opened from the inside, causing him to stumble and collide with someone's chest, then bounce back with a thud.

"Ouch!"

He cried out, and when he opened his eyes, he realized the person in front of him was incredibly tall, with a fearsome face that he had to look up to see.

"Watch where you're going."

The over two-meter-tall bald man glanced at him, showing no intention of starting a fight. He left a brief warning and walked past Martin. The few hooded figures following him didn't even spare Martin a glance, quickly disappearing around the corner.

This incident left Martin in a bad mood. He spat and entered the bar, asking the owner, Hook, who was wiping glasses at the bar, "Hey, boss, do we have a bard here who tells good stories?"

"Want to hear a story? Go to the city square in the afternoon. He'll be here in the evening, telling a couple of stories, but don't be late, or you won't find a seat."

Hook placed the glass aside without looking up, clearly used to such questions.

"He... isn't here now?"

"City square, he always goes there."

"Alright, thanks, buddy."

Martin tossed two copper coins, which Hook caught deftly, waved a dirty rag, and said, "Come back for a drink sometime," before returning to his work.

As Martin prepared to go to the city square, he walked to the wooden door, reached out to grab the handle, and the door was suddenly pushed open. He couldn't dodge in time and was hit squarely in the face, falling flat on the ground.

"Hey—uh? Someone?"

"I told you to watch out."

"Sorry, Miss Akasha."

A muffled voice reached Martin, making him feel inexplicably angry—what was wrong with him today? He kept having accidents entering and leaving the bar.

"Sorry! Really sorry!"

The middle-aged man, dressed as a merchant, saw Martin lying on his back and immediately approached, speaking with a foreign accent, to help him up and apologize profusely. When Martin stood up, he noticed a graceful woman standing behind the man, and his eyes lit up.

She was dressed in a gray linen robe, similar to those worn by women on the street, but her figure was so perfect that even this simple attire exuded an indescribable charm. The only flaw was the gray scarf covering her face, but her large, dark eyes suggested she was a beauty.

It was unusual for such a beautiful woman to be here.

However, Martin wasn't interested in investigating the background of the beauty today. Seeing that there were three or four more people behind her, he knew his collision was in vain and could only wave and leave, holding his nose. The woman, called "Akasha," had someone compensate him with a few copper coins, which improved his mood considerably.

"Still, it's the women who take care of people. But who are these people..."

Martin mused, but after circling the city square several times, he still couldn't find Rody. He eventually gave up, found a corner, and waited.

He didn't know that Rody, whom he was looking for, was currently circling the perimeter of the Moria estate outside Holier City, looking frustrated.

"Is Francis planning to be a turtle for the rest of his life?"

Rody ran through the forest outside the estate, holding a short bow and muttering curses. His steps were swift, almost a blur in the forest, and the guards patrolling outside the estate couldn't detect his presence.

The Moria estate was where Francis was currently hiding. After the failed assassination, he had increased the security, even setting up hound patrols around the perimeter, making the estate impenetrable. This level of defense made Rody, who had come to find an opportunity for assassination, extremely frustrated.

After the previous assassination attempt, Rody was even angrier than Sally. If he hadn't happened to be there that day, Sally would have surely died, and all his efforts would have been in vain.

This made the usually petty Rody furious.

He had infiltrated the duke's mansion to give Duke Angmar a bottle of antidote the previous night and left the city the next day to come to the Moria estate to kill Francis. However, the security here was vastly different from the duke's mansion, and he had to give up.

"Assassination is tough with low level and poor equipment..."

Rody looked at the short bow in his hand and muttered to himself. Although this bow was more powerful than the horn bow he used before, it wasn't enough against the high-level enemies here. Making a bow wasn't easy, and the best solution was to buy a high-level bow and arrows to compensate for the disadvantage. The problem was that there were few reliable shops, and the only suitable place was the "Rose Cross" armory, which required "Respect" reputation to purchase from.

Thinking about this, Rody felt he needed to boost his "Rose Cross" reputation. But remembering the scene where he shot the assassin in front of the abbot, he could only sigh, "There's no way around it..."

"Cut the grass at the root; if it disrupts the big picture, it's a different story."

Rody had no emotional thinking. The only thing his tech-savvy mind liked to calculate was the return on his investment in Sally and Lucifer. As for his feelings for Sally...

When he saw Sally being slashed, he was indeed afraid. But since the incident was over, he had no interest in dwelling on it and continued to think rationally about his current plan.

Romantic entanglements? "Doomed to a life of solitude," Rody never considered it. Guessing what women were thinking was more uncomfortable than thinking about how to kill Francis.

Thinking about his plans for the next few days, Rody found a suitable tree and climbed up. Since returning to the city was too late, he decided to spend the night there.

"Damn, if you're so tough, just suffocate yourself inside!"

Cursing, Rody leaned against the tree trunk and closed his eyes to rest.

******

At the same time, a few hundred meters away, the atmosphere inside the Moria estate was extremely tense.

The servants and maids walked cautiously, especially when passing Francis's room. From morning until now, Francis had "accidentally" crushed three teacups, though his expression remained calm, no one could miss the anger in his heart.

When several subordinates appeared at Francis's door, their expressions were as grim as those of condemned prisoners.

"Tell me, what have you done?"

These calm words sounded no different from "Tell me what you had for lunch," but the three subordinates' foreheads were drenched in cold sweat, their clothes sticking to their bodies, standing like statues, unable to speak.

"Didn't you tell me it was foolproof? Didn't you tell me it was a sure thing? What do you have to say now?"

"Master, we... we didn't expect—"

One of them tried to explain but was silenced by Francis's gaze.

"There are many things you didn't expect. What didn't you expect? That there would be an archer who could shoot ten holes in your heads?"

At this point, Francis's calm seemed to break. The flames gathering in his clenched fists turned a scorching yellow...

"Archer... archer... I had you investigate for months, and you told me he was in Nolan Village! Damn it, damn it, damn it... and when you acted, this bastard appeared out of nowhere. Was it a coincidence?!"

His unbridled anger was like a flame, making the three subordinates wilt as if they had been trampled by a boar. Their layered clothes were drenched in sweat, and the fear they felt was a silent torment.

"Don't tell me there's a traitor among you! How else could he know everything!"

Standing up, Francis delivered the last word with a fierce kick to the chest of the first man, who didn't even try to dodge. He was kicked out with a loud thud, his body flying through the air for half a second before landing, his face as white as paper, unable to breathe.