Chapter 337: 113. New Undercurrents
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 337: 113. New Undercurrents
"The pigeon has returned."
Robin looked up, watching the white pigeon descend from the sky.
He set down the wine glass he had been holding with his wing, elegantly wiped the corners of his beak with a handkerchief, and smiled at White Tiger across the long table.
"It seems it brings good news."
"Heh, is there any other possibility?"
White Tiger swirled his red wine glass leisurely, radiating absolute confidence.
"True enough."
Suspecting nothing, Robin took the letter brought by the white pigeon. As he broke the seal, he remarked, "Speaking of which, I recently acquired a batch of new wine. I wonder if His Excellency the Speaker would be interested?"
"Oh? A wine even you would boast about?"
"It’s a new style of spirit called 'Champagne.' It’s becoming quite popular among the youth lately."
"If it has caught your eye, what makes it so special?"
"Supposedly, the moment the bottle is opened, a massive amount of foam erupts. It’s quite a spectacle, and the flavor of the wine itself is excellent."
"Intriguing. It sounds like a wine perfectly suited for a celebration."
"Exactly. I’m even planning to send a few bottles to that old lion, Campbell. I’ll have him open them at his son’s funeral. Just thinking about that scene is exhilarating..."
"Haha! A fine idea. Exhilarating indeed."
White Tiger laughed heartily. "I’ll certainly be there to witness—hm? What’s wrong?"
White Tiger suddenly frowned, looking at Robin with confusion.
Across the long table, Robin’s high-flown talk came to a screeching halt. He stared at the contents of the letter, his mind no longer able to conjure images of humiliating the Campbell family. The human-like expression of joy on his face dissipated bit by bit.
Instead, his body began to tremble uncontrollably. Even the substitute puppet, constructed of mana, became blurred and unstable under the weight of his shaken composure.
"This... how is this possible?"
Robin muttered like a madman. He thought he must have misread it, or perhaps something was wrong with the substitute puppet. He rubbed his eyes and read the letter again and again.
But no matter how many times he looked, the information remained unchanged.
Yet it was so... unbelievable.
"What exactly happened?" White Tiger asked, perplexed. "Did those people leave a mess behind? Did they let someone grab a handle on us? Well, even if they left some evidence, it might be a nuisance, but as long as Muen Campbell is—"
"...No. It was clean. Extremely clean."
Robin interrupted White Tiger. "So clean that it seems no one even noticed that Muen Campbell was being brutally hunted in the forest."
"What do you mean by that?"
White Tiger’s frown deepened.
"It means..."
Robin looked up, speaking each word with heavy emphasis.
"Muen Campbell... is still alive."
Clink.
The expensive crystal goblet was instantly crushed. White Tiger’s eyes turned bloodshot in a flash. He glared at Robin, his voice a low roar as he demanded, "What did you say? Say that again!"
"I said... Muen Campbell is alive."
Robin repeated it, his voice so cold it nearly froze the air.
White Tiger suddenly calmed down. He cast a chilling gaze at the letter in Robin’s hand and asked, "What about the others?"
"I don't know," Robin replied. "According to the report, Earl Eller’s men found Muen Campbell and the young girl accompanying him at the edge of the forest. They are currently escorting them to the Holy City. There is no sign of the others. It is highly likely..."
"Are you telling me a fairy tale?"
White Tiger erupted in fury again. With a deafening crash, the expensive antique Phoebe zhennan table before them was reduced to a pile of useless splinters under his palm.
"That was a Sublimation-Tier Mage, two Fourth-Tier Martial Artists, and a Cleric who was invincible below the Fifth-Tier! Together, those men could have besieged and killed a true Fifth-Tier expert! Don't tell me they all lost to Muen Campbell—lost to a mere Second-Tier Martial Artist!"
"Of course I know it’s impossible! We analyzed every possibility together not long ago!"
Robin waved the letter, roaring with equal loss of composure. "The one telling fairy tales isn't me, it’s this report! Do you think I haven't considered that it might be wrong?"
"Impossible! The intelligence cannot be wrong. No matter how stupid my subordinates are, they wouldn't have the guts to tell a lie that would be exposed so instantly."
"Then..."
"What does the rest of the letter say?"
"The rest?"
Robin blinked. Only then did he realize that the stationery, usually used for brief reports, actually consisted of more than one page. The initial shock had been so great that he hadn't even noticed.
Robin’s eyes quickly scanned the second page of intelligence, and then...
He became even more shocked.
"Calamity..."
"What?"
"The report says... the Calamity that occupies the Forest of Death... that dragon... has awakened."
"..."
A deathly silence fell over the room. These two powerful figures, standing at the pinnacle of the Empire's authority, stared at each other, momentarily speechless.
No matter how brilliant or far-reaching their plans were, they were trivial compared to the awakening of a Calamity—an event that would send shockwaves across the entire continent.
After a long silence, White Tiger regained his senses and asked, "Are these two events related?"
"Whether they are related is something only that Campbell kid likely knows. But guessing from the perspective of logic..."
Robin closed his eyes, leaving the sentence unfinished.
But White Tiger already knew what he meant.
Based on their previous analysis, it was fundamentally impossible for Muen Campbell to survive that meticulously planned assassination on his own.
Unless he truly became a believer of some Evil God... No, even then, it wasn't guaranteed. To trade for enough power from an Evil God, one had to pay a sufficient price. Even as a Duke’s son, how could the price Muen Campbell could pay in such an isolated situation compare to a Priest who possessed several types of Divine Grace?
A certain-kill trap that should not have failed from any angle had resulted in this. The only possibility was...
"Is the Heavens... also on Campbell's side? What a lucky brat."
White Tiger’s face was as dark as stagnant water.
"It seems we have no choice but to proceed with that plan."
"What?"
Robin’s face paled with alarm. "That’s too risky!"
"Risk doesn't matter anymore. I said it before, didn't I? If we couldn't kill Muen Campbell, we would have to use that plan."
"But..."
Robin’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, his voice raspy. "You’ll drag us all into hell!"
"We already have one foot in the grave, don't we?"
White Tiger stared into Robin’s eyes and said grimly, "If we don't do this, the one having Champagne opened at their funeral won't be Muen Campbell—it will be us."
"..."
Robin lowered his head, seemingly lost in thought.
After a long time, a reply like a sigh echoed over the wreckage of the wooden table.
"I hope we don't truly end up in hell, Lord Speaker."
"Rest assured. A filthy place like hell is reserved for low-borns like the Campbells. I shall lead you all toward true prosperity."
The corners of White Tiger’s mouth curled into a cold arc. He raised his hand, clenched his fist, and shouted with fanaticism:
"Everything for—Glory's Blood!"
*
"What?"
Muen was suddenly startled awake by a call.
Turning his head, he heard Earl Eller’s voice from outside the window:
"Young Master Campbell, we have arrived. The Holy City is ahead."