Chapter 1280: The Mysterious Elder

Ian watched the backs of the law enforcement team leaving, lost in thought. The public security management here seems to be quite strict, and very efficient. This made him more cautious about his plan to “visit” the Ministry of Magic tonight. After all, judging from the quality of these law enforcers, the strength of the African Ministry of Magic is probably not to be underestimated.

Of course, for Ian, these people’s strength isn’t considered strong, but sufficient caution is still necessary—after all, a true master always maintains the heart of an apprentice.

Ian now loves to use this phrase to brand himself.

It serves as a warning.

And perhaps it’s a kind of Versailles.

After the law enforcers quickly escorted the two troublemaking clumsy wizards away, the market was like a lake disturbed by a small stone; the ripples soon calmed, and it resumed its previous bustling hubbub. The crowd dispersed with discussions, many wearing schadenfreude or indifferent expressions.

Such events are obviously not rare on regular days.

“Makulu and Cafu had it rough this time, they won’t come out without shedding some skin.” A wizard in a snake skin cloak said quietly to his companion, his eyes glimmering with schadenfreude, “Those people from the Ministry of Magic love ‘interrogation tax’—don’t pay enough gold coins, don’t expect to come out alive.”

“It’s not just gold coins,” another person sneered, “I heard last month someone caused trouble and was directly stripped of thirty percent of their lifespan, becoming a walking corpse, now still sweeping floors in ‘Silence Tower’.”

“Serves them right, messing with ‘Red Eye’ Baluka and still thinking of escaping unharmed?”

“Isn’t that the case? That Baluka also smuggles rocket launchers, yet he’s doing well in the Ministry of Magic?”

“Anyway, I think at least this number!” A wizard held up five fingers, shaking them.

“I think it’s more than that, recently the new law enforcement captain apparently is unyielding, with a solid background, these two ran right into trouble.”

“Hmph, can anything be tougher than Minister Ghani’s nephew? As long as the money is right, isn’t it…”

“Shh! Keep it down, don’t cause trouble!”

Listening to the discussions around him, Ian understood.

It seems the corruption issue in the African Ministry of Magic is indeed as Baboua hinted and as he imagined, a widespread phenomenon. Law enforcers aren’t there to maintain order, but to “tax”; interrogations aren’t to find out the truth but to extort interests; the so-called “law” is nothing more than a tool for the powerful to exploit the weak.

Top and bottom, from base-level enforcers to high-ranking officials, fear they can’t escape this trend. This also explains why Baboua, a mere intelligence dealer, could muster the confidence to get a regulated Door Key to the Ministry’s interior—as long as the price is right, there’s likely nothing these officials wouldn’t dare sell.

“No wonder…” Ian shook his head slightly, but this had little relation to him. His goal is to find Newt and leave safely, not to get involved in the local political disputes.

Ian smirked, without a hint of anger or indignation. He had long seen through the essence of this world.

The Magic Realm was never some “noble ivory tower,” but a jungle society clad in robes. Europe has Death Eaters, Africa has warlord wizards, their essence is no different.

“It has nothing to do with me,” he murmured to himself, turning to continue wandering.

He wandered aimlessly again.

He passed by a “Soul Pawnshop,” seeing people exchanging memory fragments for gold coins; passed by “Spell Auction House,” hearing the host auctioning “Dark Arts that keep someone awake for three days”; he even saw a couple at a “Voodoo Doll Customization Shop” porch, laughing as they selected a “curse package to ruin their rival.”

The magic on this land is bare and real, without any cover. Ian wasn’t much interested in this, he just bought a few magical trinkets that seemed exotic.

Planning to send them to the Weasley Brothers as research materials. Watching the watch’s hands nearing two in the afternoon, he turned towards the “Secret Meat Broth” restaurant.

From a distance, he saw the waitress who had received gold coins standing at the restaurant door, craning her neck, glancing left and right with a face of anxiety and expectation.

As soon as she saw Ian’s figure, the waitress immediately rushed over with a smiling face like seeing a savior.

“Honored sir! You’re finally here! I’ve got everything ready, just waiting for you!” The waitress rubbed her hands, her tone extremely accommodating.

“Hmm, lead the way.” Ian nodded.

The waitress hurriedly led the way in front, guiding Ian through the bustling main street, into increasingly secluded alleys. Eventually, they stopped in front of a shop that looked unassuming, even somewhat dilapidated. The shop had no sign, the windows were nailed shut with boards, as if abandoned for a long time.

“Sir, please follow me.” The waitress pushed open the ajar wooden door, revealing an empty, dust-covered small room. Yet, the fireplace inside unexpectedly burned with emerald-green flames.

The waitress took out a handful of shimmering powder from her pocket and spoke to Ian: “Sir, please stand in front of the fireplace, this is Flue Powder.”

Ian was somewhat surprised, not expecting to use the Flue Network for meeting the boss. He obliged and stood in front of the fireplace, the waitress sprinkled Flue Powder into the fire, the flames instantly jumped higher, turning into a sparkling green.

“Please clearly state the destination: ‘Hill of Serenity, House of Oak’,” the waitress reminded him.

“Hill of Serenity, House of Oak.”

Ian clearly repeated the words.

“Whoosh—!”

A surge of emerald-green flames shot up, almost filling the entire fireplace.