Chapter 470 260: It Must Be for Mr. Frederick

Westminster Bank really was a professional, multinational theft ring. This thought strengthened Baron's impression of the bank. He still found it strange, though. If even S Level specialists had access to guides like this, why did he, an SS specialist, get nothing but points?

Kasha looked at Baron. "You're the lead specialist on this mission. Strictly speaking, Jack and I are just your assistants. Every decision is up to you."

Kasha paused, then added, "I almost forgot. You have the [Illusory Cocoon]. You can use it to pass through this Barrier and leave..."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's get out of here with a full haul!" Jack said, his voice full of excitement.

But then he saw Baron shake his head. "I'm sorry, but I have to refuse your suggestion."

Baron said, "From the very beginning, I came here to finish something... I need to put an end to all of this."

"But L, you could die," Jack said. "If you want revenge, you have the [Illusory Cocoon] now. I could sneak you into the Hestia Family's bathroom and we could just kidnap that Elder Pence guy while he's on the toilet, right?"

He made a gutting motion. "When it comes to interrogation techniques, I'm not a bit inferior to those guys from the Demon Hunter Association."

Baron shook his head. "This is my business. I don't want to drag you two into it."

He unfurled the [Illusory Cocoon], and an illusory staircase appeared.

"This staircase leads to Westminster Cathedral. Specialist Kasha, I need you to go there and report what's happened here."

Kasha nodded. "Be careful, then."

With that, she stepped onto the staircase and vanished.

He then looked at Jack. "Jack..."

But Jack cut in, "Damn, Brother L, you really are a madman."

He sighed and put on his helmet. "Forget it. You don't seem like the type for sentimental speeches, so I'll say it for you. This time, if you make it out alive..."

He thumped his chest and said, "You're splitting your pay with me."

'Can I get you a juice box instead?'

Though it was his habit to snark, Baron was still a little touched. He said, "Whatever you want. But honestly, you wouldn't be much help staying here."

"In that case, I'll just go," Jack said.

In truth, the drums of retreat were already playing a full symphony in his head. But when he turned, he found the staircase from the Illusory Cocoon had vanished.

He turned back and stared silently at Baron, who said helplessly, "The Illusory Cocoon only lasts for so long..."

Jack said, "So what do I do now?"

Baron thought for a moment. "What do you think you can do?"

Jack was useless in a fight; his only advantage was his skill at containing other people's Taboo Items.

"Gather intelligence?" Jack suggested. "And maybe stir up public opinion while I'm at it."

He was still wearing the Armor of the Griffin Knight Order, so he would blend right into the crowd.

Baron considered it. "Do what you want. I have things to do, so let's part ways here for now. Here are five sheets of paper... You can use them like Magic. Just inject them with Spiritual Power. At close range, they're powerful enough to seriously injure a Black Iron Tier Demon Hunter or kill a Wizard."

Jack took the papers and retorted, "At close range, I could get the same effect on a Wizard with a broomstick."

"Then these papers can create the close-range opportunity for you."

As Baron was leaving, he suddenly turned back. "By the way, it seems the messages you were supposed to deliver to the various Law Enforcement Organizations and Old Blood Clans were all intercepted by the Dragon Eater Association. I suspect the contacts you met with might have been undercover agents for them."

Jack's face paled in horror. "Are you saying my pigeons are all Dragon Devourer Cultists?!"

Baron: "..."

Sometimes he wasn't silent by choice, but simply because he was rendered utterly speechless.

.........

In the auction hall, the guests had been tied to their chairs in batches. Their mouths were sealed with tape, and only muffled whimpers could be heard.

The whimpers rose and fell, merging into a sound that momentarily conjured a vision of an Industrial Age steamship chugging along the Thames River.

Knights patrolled among the guests but dared not harm or disrespect them. These were all prominent, named figures of the Inner Side, and the Knights didn't dare treat them the way they treated the commoners of the Old Race and the Bloodless.

It wasn't that they were afraid; after all, the Knights were still Law Enforcers. But who would dare to be the one to step out of line?

Thus, the only ones in the entire hall upon whom the Knights could flaunt their authority were the Attendants from the Old Race and the Bloodless who worked at the auction.

This led to a very realistic scene playing out in the auction hall:

If the one affected by [Blood Control] was a gentleman or lady of high status, the Knights would gently coax them, pull them away as they threw their tantrums, and carefully settle them into their seats before securing them with ropes and tape.

If the one affected by [Blood Control] was an Attendant, the Knights would simply knock them unconscious. Then, they would have a Demon Hunter from the Demon Hunter Association handcuff them on charges of [Theft of Important Property]—because, logically speaking, an Attendant had no right to drink the auction hall's red wine, which, as everyone knew, was generally very expensive.

What's that? A guest offered it to you? In that case, you violated the Inner Side's labor law, specifically the article on [Slacking Off During Work Hours], which also requires payment of a hefty fine. This was a new technique the Demon Hunter Association had taught the Knights.

According to the Demon Hunter who taught them this method, it was this very move that had allowed the London City Demon Hunter Association's revenue to crush that of all other European branches for years.

Of course, the Knights doing this were almost all from the Hestia Family's Griffin Knight Order. A few members of the Lion Eye Knight Order were tempted, thinking of seizing the opportunity to cash in, but they were stopped by Freya, the Legitimate Daughter of the Lancelot Family, just as they began to act.

She gave a few Knights from the Lion Eye Knight Order a scathing tongue-lashing, then declared that for a Law Enforcer to lower themselves by extorting property from the Old Race, or even the Bloodless, was a disgrace to the title of "Law Enforcer." It was no secret in the Inner Side that Freya was a firm believer in the chivalry of noble bloodlines.

...

Freya listened to the truths being spilled by the men and women around her, a side effect of the chaos. The sheer depravity of their words was a true eye-opener. Her lovely brows knitted together, and she said coldly:

"They're all a bunch of degenerates, even lower than the Bloodless."

"Aren't the so-called Old Blood Nobility all like this...?" Freya turned her head and saw that the speaker was Barbara, her fiancé's sister.

Barbara said, "The Blood Control is about to wear off. Jill is leading the Griffin Knight Order in pursuit of the member of the Blood Race who escaped through the window. They say it was the [Angel] that was being auctioned on stage earlier. This phenomenon is likely because that member of the Blood Race has lost control of their blood. It won't be long before the blood loses its potency."

Freya's gaze fell on the faintly glowing recording Magic Card in Barbara's hand. "Miss Barbara, what are you...?" she asked, curious.

Barbara smiled faintly. The smile made her appear even more radiant, like a vibrant rose:

"I'm very interested in the true feelings these ladies and gentlemen are sharing. I think some of this might come in handy for overturning a certain court verdict in the near future."

Freya understood. "This is for Mr. Frederick, isn't it?"

Barbara's husband, Frederick, was still locked up in prison.

Barbara smiled without a word.

Just then, a lady let out an ill-timed shriek, one so high-pitched it could have shattered a champagne flute. The noisy men and women suddenly came to their senses. They stared at each other, faces flushing red as they seemed to realize what they had just done. A dead silence fell over them.

A few of the men beat their chests in remorse, while many of the ladies covered their faces with handkerchiefs or feathered fans, sobbing softly.

They all probably understood that their images in each other's eyes had been utterly shattered.