The first to detect the anomaly was the magic monitoring array at the top of the White Tower.
The exact instant Novia's dragon breath struck Maurice right after the barrier shattered, the monitoring crystal burst with a blinding wave of ice-blue light. Almost every mage tower equipped with a monitoring array in Falan City captured this surge of extreme cold magicules at the same time.
The nearest Guild duty team immediately dispatched. The leader was a square-faced, middle-aged man with a badge engraved with the number nine on his chest.
He flew to the outskirts of the manor with several subordinates, completely stunned by the sight before them the moment they landed:
The ground was covered with the shattered remains of modified constructs frozen in various contorted poses. Five ice sculptures dressed as cultists lay scattered about, and on the steps lay a human-shaped ice sculpture frozen in a running posture. Even inhaling a single trace of the lingering extreme cold magicules in the air made them shudder involuntarily.
The second to arrive was the resident priest of the Church of the Goddess of Life in Falan City, who flew directly from the church with two accompanying nuns. Following them in quick succession were several elders from the Mages' Guild, the duty deacon of the Alchemists' Guild, and the deputy commander sent by the city guard.
Over a dozen people gathered around the ruins, whispering among themselves. None of them dared to rashly step inside. The ice sculpture of Maurice's double still held its desperate running posture, and nearly a third of the mansion behind it was covered in a thick layer of frost.
Two mages took the initiative to inspect the scene. They circled Maurice's ice sculpture and raised their hands to cast Analysis.
The interior of the ice sculpture was fully revealed—there were no organs, no bones, only a mass of slowly swirling, grayish-white mist.
One of them gathered mana and shattered the ice sculpture, sending fragments scattering across the ground. The moment the ice cracked open, the mist dissipated completely.
“There is no alchemical core.”
He stood up, brushed the ice chips from his hands, and shook his head at his colleagues behind him. “Just like the Guild's previous ambush, it's another double. The real Maurice Shadow is not here.”
These words cast a heavier gloom over the atmosphere.
Sorge, Lumu, and the others had also blended into the crowd of onlookers and arrived at the scene.
Sorge leaned on his staff behind a withered tree, while Lumu leaned against another trunk. Her gaze swept over the few people pointing at Novia's dragon horns, and then at the way Lu Mao was supporting Novia. Neither of them rushed forward.
The troll was pinned behind a bush by Agrix, with half an unfinished piece of bread still stuffed in his mouth.
In a situation like this, before everyone's stances became clear, stepping forward would only cause trouble for Lu Mao.
Mayfield hurriedly arrived with several High-Tier Guild mages, but before he could even speak, a tall, thin man in a gold-trimmed mage robe took the initiative to cause trouble.
The man, who looked to be in his early fifties, stepped out from the crowd, the hem of his robe embroidered with the cross emblem of the Mages' Guild.
He glanced at Novia, who was slumped in Lu Mao's arms with her dragon horns protruding from her silver hair. His brow furrowed deeply enough to crush a fly.
“A dragonkin? Since when does Lumdor allow demi-humans to roam freely near the city? How on earth are the city guards doing their jobs?”
Several mages wearing elder robes behind him nodded in agreement, and whispers began to break out among the onlookers. When they looked at Lu Mao and Novia, their faces were filled with wariness.
Mayfield and his high-level mages had only just arrived when they overheard the man's remarks.
He walked to the edge of the ruins, looking down at the remains of the modified constructs and the cultists' corpses, then at Novia being supported by Lu Mao. He raised his hand to signal everyone to be quiet.
“These two are my friends. Today, they have eradicated a massive hidden danger for Falan City. Maurice colluded with cultists to kidnap and harm a large number of demi-humans for illegal necromantic alchemy experiments. If not for their timely discovery and action, this stronghold would still be operating, and the consequences would be unimaginable.”
He looked at the tall, thin elder. “Both of them are heavily injured. If we drive them out of the city now, not only would we break our friends' hearts, but we would also fall right into the enemy's hands. Have any of you considered how many of Maurice's accomplices might still be lurking in the shadows?”
He raised his hand, pointing toward the iron cages deep within the mansion.
“As for those captured demi-humans, they also prove that there are severe loopholes in Falan City's law enforcement. There are individuals within the city guards who accepted bribes and sold demi-humans to wanted criminals. This matter must be thoroughly investigated to the very end.”
The faces of the city guard representatives present turned pale instantly.
Mayfield did not press them further, shifting his tone:
“These demi-humans are victims. Starting today, the Guild will be responsible for their food, lodging, and safety in Falan City. Once the tournament matters are settled, we will provide them with travel expenses based on their personal wishes and arrange for people to escort them out of the city.”
The tall, thin elder's lips twitched as if he wanted to say something more, but looking around, he ultimately kept his mouth shut, swept his sleeves, and retreated back into the crowd.
Mayfield walked up to Lu Mao and patted him on the shoulder.
“As expected of the people recommended by him. To have eliminated such a major threat to Falan City right after arriving, I must properly thank you on behalf of the people of Falan City.
“Leave this place to me. Go back to the guest house to rest and recover first. We can discuss the rest once you've had some sleep.”
...
At the same moment, in a secret underground chamber of another unremarkable manor on the outskirts of Falan City, a dim light screen flickered out along with the figure inside it.
Maurice—or rather, Augustus Morehurst—knelt on one knee in front of the light screen before slowly standing up.
After the incident ten years ago, he had been taken away by the forces of the evil god. Having undergone countless modifications through necromantic alchemy and erosion by the evil god's will, he had long since been reborn.
Maurice Shadow was an alias, but this face was real, as was his obsession with necromantic spells.
Except back then, it was for the revival of his family; now, it was purely an offering to the Lord God's Favored who had granted him new life.
There were several other people standing in the secret chamber.
A beautiful, middle-aged woman dressed in a luxurious gown snapped her fan open, speaking with a smile:
“Maurice, I heard your laboratory was taken down by a dragonkin?”
A scar-faced brute leaning against the wall sneered, a greatsword resting on his shoulder:
“Even your double got frozen into a popsicle. That double must have cost quite a lot of materials, didn't it?”
A small figure wrapped in a black robe in the corner did not speak, only letting out a continuous, hoarse chuckle.
Augustus gritted his teeth and did not argue. The Lord God's Favored had given him a new mission to make up for his failure.
The stronghold in Falan City had been exposed, and the Guild would definitely conduct a city-wide sweep. Staying here any longer was too risky.
Therefore, the Lord God's Favored had ordered him to set off immediately for the Famlok Royal Capital to infiltrate the Morehurst family—the family he had been away from for ten years.
Duke Severus was getting old, and the struggle for succession was about to reach a boiling point.
According to the intelligence gathered by the organization, his son, Elliot, along with his uncles and brothers, was currently recruiting outside forces everywhere.
As long as this mission succeeded, they could use the Morehurst family as a springboard to gradually corrode all of Famlok.
Augustus walked over to an old desk in the corner and pulled a stack of yellowed letters from a drawer.
They were letters he had written to a young Elliot years ago. They had never been sent, and every single one was signed "Father."
He stared at the handwriting for a moment, then reached out to press the entire stack of letters into the flame of an oil lamp.
“Elliot.”
Watching the paper slowly turn to ash, Augustus's tone was calm and detached:
“Let me see just how much you've grown over these ten years.”
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