Most of the bookshelves had collapsed, and books were scattered across the floor. A few had been skewered by branches, their pages mangled with greyish-green wood.
Franz flipped through the books one by one. He stopped at the fifth, leaning in to examine the greyish-green powder staining the pages. He scraped a bit off with his nail and brought it to his nose.
He frowned.
“It has a sweet scent,” he muttered. “Doesn't smell like a normal plant.”
Lu Yuan inspected the remains of the desk and cabinets.
Ledgers, family letters, mineral trade records, and irrelevant social correspondence.
The wax seal on the letters bore an eagle-patterned design, the family crest.
He opened a few; they were all standard commercial letters.
Nothing unusual.
On the mantelpiece sat a small, locked iron box.
Lu Yuan pulled out a copper needle and spent a few seconds picking the lock.
Inside was a stack of receipts.
There were multiple large financial transactions from the past three months, with varying amounts. Every recipient used an alias; not a single real name was present.
There was also an empty leather wallet.
Lu Yuan flipped through it. There were indentations on the lining where cards or stiff slips of paper had once been kept, but they were gone.
‘Someone cleaned this out ahead of time.’
They searched for about twenty minutes.
Aside from the plant fiber fragments in the basement and these receipts in the study, there was no direct evidence pointing to the Grey Covenant.
Nor was there anything that could explain the source of the woodenized mutation.
Hoguer looked over the recovered items, his expression cold.
“It’s too clean. Either he cleared it himself, or someone did it for him.”
“Interrogate the nephew,” Lu Yuan said, frowning. “The one who kept the books.”
Hoguer nodded.
“Let’s go.”
In the first-floor hall.
Six people were lined up and held down.
Two housekeepers knelt on the left.
A man and a woman. The man was in his fifties, his aged face tense. The woman was in her forties, her shoulders hunched as she trembled uncontrollably.
Several disarmed private soldiers squatted on the right.
They were all young, their faces pale and their hands bound behind their backs.
On the far right sat a single individual.
He was pinned to a chair alone.
Erik.
In his early twenties, thin, with short brown hair.
He was Baron von Linde’s distant nephew and the accountant who managed the Baron’s finances.
He wasn't shaking, but all color had drained from his face.
Hoguer crouched down.
He looked him in the eye.
His voice carried a subtle, crushing pressure.
“Your uncle betrayed the Empire and made a deal with the eerie. He turned into a tree, so I cut off his head, and then the tree died.”
A cold light flashed in Hoguer’s eyes as he paused.
“You have one chance.”
“Only one.”
Erik’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“I’ll talk.”
His voice was so raspy it was barely audible.
“I’ll tell you everything...”
Hoguer didn't rush him.
Seeing Hoguer’s unhurried manner, Erik gritted his teeth and began to confess.
First was the Grey Covenant connection.
The Baron’s link with the Grey Covenant was clear: smuggling ore to evade taxes, providing warehouse locations, and handling some of the financial circulation.
Erik managed the books, so he was aware of every transaction with the Grey Covenant.
The amounts, the dates, and the aliases of the contacts.
He listed seven aliases and three warehouses, along with the start and end dates.
Hoguer took notes as he listened.
This was solid evidence of Grey Covenant collaboration.
Warehouses, funds, and contacts—it was enough to piece together a complete chain of interests.
“There’s more.”
Erik swallowed hard.
“Six months ago, someone approached my uncle. I don't know who they were.”
His gaze drifted slightly.
“I never saw them. My uncle wouldn't let me get involved. Every time that person came, he made me leave the room.”
“But I know where the money went.”
“At the beginning of every month, a fixed sum of 30 gold shields would be deposited from an untraceable account. After my uncle withdrew the cash, he would go out personally. When he returned, he’d have a black wooden box.”
He gestured with his hands.
“About the size of a palm, made of wood, with a wax seal.”
Hoguer stopped writing.
“What was inside?”
“I sneaked a look once.”
Erik’s voice dropped even lower.
“A small bottle of thick, dark green liquid.”
He wrinkled his nose.
“I smelled a sweet scent.”
“I don't know what it was, where it came from, or what it was for.”
He lowered his head.
“I only know that my uncle started acting strange after that.”
Silence followed for two seconds.
“There was one more thing.”
Erik began to speak faster.
“My uncle said it once when he was drunk.”
“‘Once that tree wakes up, every rat in Bronze City will have to kneel before me.’”
Hoguer finished writing the last word.
“That tree,” he repeated.
He didn't ask which tree, nor did he ask what “wakes up” meant.
He closed his notebook and stood up.
“The accounts you handled, the people you dealt with—you’ve confessed everything?”
Erik nodded.
“Who was involved in transporting the funds?” Hoguer asked quietly.
“The butler, Ludwig.” Erik tilted his head toward the male butler kneeling on the left. “He handled the Baron’s daily schedule and had contact with the people from the Grey Covenant. And Joen.”
His gaze moved to a private soldier on the far right—a burly man in his mid-twenties with a square face and an old scar on his neck.
“He was responsible for guarding the cargo in Warehouse No. 3. He knows what was packed in there.”
Hoguer’s gaze lingered on the male butler and the soldier named Joen for a moment each.
“What about the others?”
“The others didn't know,” Erik said.
“Anna only handled internal household affairs, and the other two soldiers were just gate guards.”
“I’ve said everything I need to say. I just want a quick death...”
Hoguer didn't act immediately.
He walked over to the male butler.
He crouched down.
“Ludwig. You handled daily affairs. How many times did you see the Grey Covenant people come to see the Baron?”
The butler’s lips trembled, clearly realizing there was no escape.
“Th... three times.”
“When?”
“The first was four months ago. The other two were at the start of the month.”
“What did they look like?”
“I couldn't see their faces. They wore hats and were very short.”
Hoguer looked at the soldier named Joen.
“What was stored in Warehouse No. 3?”
Joen’s face was ashen.
“Wooden boxes. Sealed,” he whispered. “We weren't allowed to open them. But when we moved them, I could feel liquid sloshing inside.”
“Glazed Water?”
Joen lowered his head further.
“I don't know what it’s called. I just moved them. I... I also want a quick death...”
Hoguer ignored him and stood up.
Verification was complete.
Erik’s confession and the testimonies of these two men corroborated each other.
He stuffed his notebook into his pocket.
Then, he grabbed Erik by the collar and hauled him out of the chair.
Erik didn't have time to react, but knowing he was likely about to die, his survival instinct made him struggle.
Hoguer ignored Erik’s thrashing and dragged him up to the second floor.
At the doorway of the study.
The withered remains were still huddled in the center of the room.
“That is your uncle.”
Hoguer lifted Erik with one hand, forcing him to face the withered tree that was barely recognizable.
“I will give you a quick death.”
With that, Hoguer shoved Erik directly onto it.
The few remaining withered branches were sharp enough.
In an instant, they skewered Erik’s body.
Erik’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
His eyes went wide, and his whole body spasmed. After a series of whimpers escaped his throat, the light in his eyes vanished.
Hoguer let go with a blank expression and straightened his back.
He walked back downstairs.
The butler, Ludwig, was dragged to the second-floor corridor. The old man didn't make a sound until the end; his eyes remained open as he fell, staring at the ceiling.
Joen, however, struggled desperately.
The veins on the burly man’s neck bulged. He was gagged, letting out muffled whimpers.
Conrad pinned his shoulders from behind. Hoguer’s blade was swift.
The bodies were dragged into the study.
Three people.
All of them were direct participants identified by Erik and confirmed through cross-verification.
Hoguer bent down, wiped his blade clean with a scrap of cloth near the remains, and sheathed it.
The female butler huddled in the corner, too terrified to speak.
The faces of the young private soldiers were pale; one of them had a wet patch on his trouser leg.
Conrad glanced at Hoguer.
“What about these few?”
Hoguer swept his gaze over the female butler and the two soldiers.
“They weren't direct participants. Gag them, bind them, and take them back to the branch. Let Kraus decide their fate.”
Conrad nodded and untied a rope from his waist, his movements efficient.
The entire process took less than ten minutes.
The evidence at the scene was rearranged.
All the bodies were concentrated in the study and the second-floor corridor.
The scene was staged to show that the Baron had mutated and gone out of control late at night, and the personnel in the mansion were killed by the runaway wooden structures.
The obituary template Kraus had prepared beforehand was no longer needed.
An assassination had turned into an execution. The procedure changed accordingly.
Tomorrow morning, the notice published by the Bronze Newspaper wouldn't be a report of an “unfortunate accident,” but a public bulletin from the Nightwatchers—
Baron von Linde violated imperial regulations by privately contacting a mutation source, leading to his own loss of control. During the incident, several people in the mansion were killed. Nightwatchers on patrol discovered the anomaly and handled it according to the law, killing the mutant.
The wording didn't need embellishment; the facts themselves were the best cover.
No one would question the details regarding a mutant.
After the cleanup was finished.
The four of them met in the first-floor hall.
Hoguer leaned against the wall, Franz stood by the door, and Conrad squatted on the floor wiping blood from his hands. The wounded Nightwatcher had been moved to the next room, his shoulder wound having received a basic dressing.
Hoguer looked at Lu Yuan.
“What about the basement?”
Kraus had put Lu Yuan on this operation tonight for this very moment.
Lu Yuan reported his findings in the basement point by point.
Glazed Water residue, four or five wooden boxes, and dry greyish-green powder on the inner walls—consistent with the composition found at the previous Grey Covenant hideout. Unfortunately, the items had already been moved.
At this, Hoguer nodded.
As expected.
“There’s more.”
Lu Yuan pulled the thumb-sized wooden fragment from his pocket.
“Found this in a hidden compartment behind the wine rack. It’s also tissue from some kind of plant, and it’s already dead.”
Hoguer took it, turned it over in his fingers, and handed it to Franz.
Franz held it under a wall lamp for a few seconds and sniffed it.
“Smells the same as that tree upstairs.” He frowned slightly.
Lu Yuan continued.
“There’s a lingering aura in the hidden compartment. It’s a bit strange; I can't confirm who it belongs to.”
“Someone deliberately tried to mask it, but since the cellar is a sealed space, it didn't dissipate completely.”
Hoguer didn't respond immediately.
Franz returned the fragment to Hoguer and leaned back against the doorframe, a cigarette dangling unlit from his mouth.
“So the Grey Covenant lead is solid,” Hoguer said slowly. “The warehouses, the funds, the contacts... the things the nephew confessed combined with the Glazed Water residue in the basement are enough.”
“But the mutation on the Baron wasn't the Grey Covenant’s doing.”
He glanced at the plant fiber fragment in his hand.
“According to imperial files, the Grey Covenant doesn't possess this kind of ability.”
Conrad looked up. “Then how many boats was the Baron playing?”
No one answered.
“We’ll report back to Kraus,” Hoguer said, putting the fragment and receipts into his inner pocket. “We’ll let him make the judgment.”
He scanned the room.
“Franz, stay here and wait for the follow-up team to take over.”
Franz nodded, the cigarette bobbing at the corner of his mouth; he had no objections.
The study was sealed, the entire mansion was designated a restricted zone, and samples of the Baron’s remains and the wooden powder on the floor were collected and stored.
Conrad walked at the front.
Lu Yuan and Hoguer followed behind.
Just as they stepped out of the mansion’s main gate.
Hoguer looked at Lu Yuan and said one thing.
“Your pathway is truly something else.”
Lu Yuan remained silent for a moment and did not answer.
The two of them walked past a gas lamp side by side. Conrad stopped ahead, gesturing for the two of them to hurry up.
Rate on N.U.
