Chapter 1127 - 213: Silent Fear (Part 2)

"Grandfather," Chris couldn't help asking, "are the contracts on these things really reliable? I mean… they look so much like real people. What if, in just two or three days, they suddenly develop rebellious thoughts…"

"Are you scared, Chris?" William's voice was very calm, even tinged with a faint smile. "Afraid of the things you created?"

Chris didn't deny it. He swallowed and nodded.

William laughed, and in that smile there was a kind of world‑weary insight:

"Good. Knowing fear means you haven't yet been completely blinded by greed."

"Remember this feeling, Chris."

"You must always hold awe toward any power that exceeds your understanding—whether that power is yours, or given to you by someone else."

He paused, his gaze returning to those silent "guests" in the hall, his voice sinking low:

"As for them… of course I've put the highest level of safeguards in place. If any one of them strays from its predetermined track, the bombs buried inside them will immediately turn these things to ash!"

"Most importantly, they have no 'souls', Chris."

"No matter how human they look, they're just machines executing commands."

"Like a precision clockwork—no matter how many thousands or tens of thousands of turns it makes, it will never suddenly think, 'I want to walk in a straight line.'"

He patted the back of his grandson's hand; from age, his palm was cold and withered:

"So don't worry, child. They're safe. At least… they're safe for as long as we need them to function."

Listening to his grandfather's words, Chris forced himself to nod, but the chill in his heart did not completely disperse.

Perhaps it was because… every time he met the gaze of those motionless new Poppets, he felt a terror rising from the depths of his being…

As if sitting there were a row of walking corpses.

He was looking at them.

And some of them seemed to be using the corners of their eyes… to watch him.

But Chris also knew he couldn't say any more.

His grandfather was clearly immensely proud of his plan and his creations; if Chris kept questioning him at a time like this, it would only make his grandfather fly into a rage;

If it got serious, his grandfather might even decide he was cowardly and weak, unfit for great responsibility, and start doubting whether he had the ability to take over the Stonefield Family.

Thinking of this, a shudder ran through Chris's heart. He hurriedly adjusted his breathing rhythm, making himself at least appear much calmer.

Only the vessels at his temples were still trembling ever so slightly.

"Come on, let's go see how Illari is progressing." William said, "Chris, you haven't yet witnessed a Wizard extracting memories, have you?"

Chris quickly turned the wheelchair and said, "No."

"Then you should watch closely." William chuckled. "It truly is a marvelous sight, one you never tire of no matter how many times you've seen it…"

William was just about to leave when he suddenly noticed the hesitant expression on the attendant standing by the door.

He turned his head and saw that in several of the private rooms, members of the Stonefield Family were lying sprawled on the floor.

To better confuse the guests, he had not taken special measures to isolate or protect the family members. Now, seeing a crowd of them collapsed in disarray, his gaze instantly turned cold:

"These useless trash… they can't even sense there's something wrong with the air they're breathing. Throw them into the underground dungeon to reflect for two days. Let them really think about what they actually are!"

"If they're smart, they'll obediently take their dividends in future. If they're not…"

He patted the back of Chris's hand with meaningful emphasis, leaving the sentence unfinished, but the implication was obvious.

Chris couldn't help the brief upward twitch of the corner of his mouth; then he lowered his head, hiding the excitement in his eyes.

The bodyguards who had been standing by outside the private rooms immediately went into action. They pushed the doors open and swiftly began hauling people out.

The first carried out was John's niece, Emily. She was lifted up limply, her high heels dragging across the carpet, making a faint rasping sound.

The second was his cousin Robert. He was heavier than expected, and the bodyguards had to adjust their grip.

The third was Aunt Martha. She was thin and tall, her slender neck drooping like an overburdened stem…

Vid was sprawled on the single sofa deep inside the private room, his head lolling to one side, breaths even and shallow, the very picture of deep unconsciousness.

Even with his eyes closed, he could clearly sense the bodyguards approaching.

—Act now?

Or keep up the pretense and let them carry him away?

Being thrown into the "dungeon" could be an opportunity, but if there were devices down there that restricted Magic, or if his act was exposed… the risk would be no less.

Just as the bodyguard's fingers were about to touch Vid's shoulder—and Vid's fingertips gave a faint twitch—

"Bang!!!"

A dull, heavy crash came from the direction of the side door to the venue: glass shattering, metal twisting, someone grunting, and even scattered gunshots!

The bodyguards in the private room jerked upright, hands instantly snapping to the weapons at their waists as they turned toward the doorway on high alert.

"Bang—boom!"

Another, even more violent impact!

Two black silhouettes—the bodyguards who had been guarding the side door—were flung sideways through the entrance, crashing hard onto the floor!

A tall, gloomy figure, radiating a smothering fury, strode into the hall over shattered glass and splintered wood.

It was Bloren.

The new leader of the Scourers was in a state that could only be described as ragged:

The black long coat that was usually immaculate was smeared with dust, bearing several torn patches; his hair was disheveled, his face frozen in bitter frost, his whole body burning with a rage like that of a man betrayed.