When the foxkin mentioned that artifact the Brotherhood had lost for God knows how many years, everyone’s eyes couldn’t help but light up.
An artifact that had been missing for years, one the Assassin's Court had sought for countless springs and autumns...
...appearing in the hands of a few seemingly unremarkable “young brats”?
It sounded almost impossible.
However, compared to the alternative of “the party crossing the Wailing Corridor with only the strength of a Low-tier Transcendent”...
This guess, by contrast, seemed exceptionally “reliable.”
Silence fell over the hall once more. The light and shadows from the torches danced across everyone’s faces.
Someone, in a low voice, muttered a comment:
“How does that story... go again?”
“The first Hero’s artifact, the Sword of the Goddess of Light...”
“Isn't it said he found it in a trash heap in his hometown?”
“Then the Goddess inside the sword guided him through a series of battles until he finally defeated the Demon God...”
Though it was merely a fairy tale for children,
the probability of “finding an artifact” seemed not to be entirely zero.
And this tiny probability
was currently and uncontrollably soaring
in the hearts of every person present.
After all, no one was truly willing to admit
that a few strangers they viewed as “rookies”
had actually relied on their own strength to easily conquer the Wailing Corridor—the place they considered a natural chasm of eternal terror.
Unlike the others who were preoccupied with maintaining their self-esteem,
the foxkin’s narrow eyes shimmered with undisguised excitement and a sharp glint.
Morpheus, sitting opposite him, also had his mind working rapidly,
his fingers unconsciously tapping on the table.
“Lord Morpheus.”
The foxkin spoke, his voice lowered further.
“I heard from my subordinates' report...”
“Among those three humans, one claims to be Roger’s nephew.”
“He came to Avalon to seek a place for his companions... to settle?”
Morpheus’s blood-red eyes flickered slightly as he nodded.
“You’re thinking of...”
The foxkin immediately nodded, the cunning in his eyes deepening.
“Making good use of this connection.”
“Let them feel Avalon's ‘warmth’ and ‘acceptance.’”
“Especially that half-demon elf who is a descendant of a Demon King.”
“And then...”
He dragged out his words.
“Find a way to locate the true owner of that artifact.”
In a corner of the hall, a human warrior who had remained silent couldn't help but speak up:
“Are we talking about killing them for the treasure?”
“But that goes against our principles for founding Avalon...”
“What do you mean, killing for treasure!”
The foxkin interrupted him testily.
“I mean using a soft approach!”
His tail swayed.
“Doesn’t he want his companion to join Avalon?”
“Then let her join.”
“Let her take root here and grow to love this place.”
He glanced around at everyone and smiled slyly.
“And then...”
“Trick him into believing Avalon is facing a catastrophic disaster,”
“and that it will be destroyed before long.”
The foxkin’s voice was soft yet clear:
“Out of concern for his companion's future,”
“let that person who holds the artifact willingly...”
“‘lend’ that potentially existing artifact to us.”
“A good idea.”
A hint of decisiveness flashed in Morpheus’s blood-red eyes.
“We’ll do exactly as you say.”
He stood up, appearing ready to issue orders immediately.
“Wait.”
The foxkin quickly stopped him.
“Too many people cannot know about this.”
“The more who know, the easier it is to blow our cover.”
The foxkin’s eyes shifted as he lowered his voice:
“Besides, dealing with that half-demon elf is actually quite simple.”
“We only need to... lift the restrictions on her.”
“And let the residents of Avalon ‘automatically’ accept her.”
Hearing this, Morpheus hesitated slightly:
“But the fact that she is a descendant of a Demon King has already been publicly revealed by me.”
He shook his head.
“It’s not that Avalon's residents aren't repulsed by demons.”
“They only accept the demons from Lord Gusion’s clan.”
“As for other demons...”
His tone darkened.
“The prejudice is still very deep.”
“Especially in recent years, they’ve heard too much—”
“Too many rumors about other demons wanting to kill Lord Gusion, seize the Demon King Pillar, and inherit the position of Demon King.”
“So...”
Morpheus did not finish,
but his meaning was already clear.
To mobilize the residents of Avalon, they first had to resolve the issue of her identity as a Demon King's descendant.
This was indeed a difficult problem.
But it was not enough to stump a foxkin known for his cunning.
The foxkin gave a slight chuckle, his tail swaying gently.
“I heard that Demon King's descendant... has white hair.”
He spoke slowly, a light shimmering in his eyes.
“Among the tribes of the Seventy-Two Pillar Demon Kings, white hair is extremely rare.”
He paused and looked at Morpheus.
“And as it happens, our Lord Gusion...”
“is also a white-haired Demon King.”
The foxkin didn't finish the sentence,
but everyone present immediately understood his meaning.
“Remember,” the foxkin said, putting away his smile and looking serious.
“Sincerity is the ultimate killing move.”
“Once there are lies involved, not only will it be easy to expose us, it will also make things troublesome.”
He looked around at everyone present.
“Only the few of us can know the plan.”
“The actions must also be guided by us from the shadows.”
“You absolutely cannot let your subordinates see anything is amiss.”
“What we need to do is create an atmosphere.”
“Let the residents discover it for ‘themselves’ and then believe it for ‘themselves.’”
Everyone nodded one after another in understanding.
They did not know
that at this very moment, right above the roof of the hall,
a certain little mage wearing the Shroud of the Gloomy Night was listening intently,
hearing their entire plan crystal clear.
...
The meeting had assembled quickly and dispersed just as fast.
Morpheus gave a few final instructions before everyone rose to leave.
The beastkin half-demon with goat horns on his head, carrying a battle-axe, was the first to push open the door and exit.
Several human warriors in leather armor followed closely behind, talking in low voices.
The foxkin stretched, his tail swinging leisurely as he strolled out.
Aenor the gnome, clutching his bronze mirror, kept his head down and vanished in a flash.
The hall quickly became empty.
Lin Gui did not stay long either.
He silently followed the last few people who left.
Blending into the night, he departed the City Lord's Manor.
Sitting sideways on his oak staff, he floated through Avalon’s night sky.
The night wind was slightly cool, brushing against his face.
He had originally intended just to scout the path and gather some information.
Who would have thought he would get such a “harvest”?
Sitting on the staff, Lin Gui's eyes held complex emotions.
It was hard to tell if he felt depressed or something else.
He just hadn't expected it.
Before he had even made a move, things seemed to be heading in a favorable direction.
And the reason was so... bizarre.
This wasn't the first time he had heard about the “lost concealment artifact of the Brotherhood.”
Back when they were heading for the Wall of Sighs, Fortress Lord Balin had thought he possessed that artifact.
Later, when he met Roger, Roger had the same suspicion.
And even now.
These people in Avalon were actually calculating how to “accept” them because of that same misunderstanding.
Lin Gui just hadn't expected
that this misunderstanding—which had happened again and again...
...could actually resolve his biggest current problem in Avalon in such an inconceivable way.
Could this... be considered meeting halfway?
He just hoped that tomorrow, Theia wouldn't be scared into a stress reaction.
Rate on N.U.
