Actually, there’s another detail in Ned’s case, which is the reason Ethan could ultimately help him exonerate himself.
This detail was also corroborated after Solomon’s people thoroughly searched Sandro’s castle.
The detail is—
Sandro was the real man in the black robe.
The black robes found in Principal Loren Rose’s office were all planted by Sandro.
Ned said, "...You know Loren’s public identity is the King of Winster. According to the original plan, he was supposed to disappear and kill Sandro so that our new mber Ethan could rise to power. But Sandro didn’t die, and he vanished, and even Solomon’s investigation turned towards ..."
"Based on this, I suspect Sandro killed Loren and then misled everything towards ..."
After hearing Ned’s words, the puzzle of the events starting from Saint Kuanti was nearly complete.
After the Saint Kuanti event, Loren prepared to leave Winster to prevent their organization from being exposed.
Before leaving, he was entrusted by Ned to kill Sandro first.
Unexpectedly, he underestimated Sandro’s strength and was counter-killed by Sandro.
Sandro then frad Loren with the identity of the black-robed man, thereby leading Solomon to focus on Ned.
Because if the black-robed man was Loren, the only remaining possible King of Winster would be the master of the Judicial Hall, Ned.
And coincidentally, Ned wasn’t clean.
If it weren’t for Ethan being an unstable factor that broke the whole situation.
Then the final result of this matter would be Ned getting caught, and Sandro completely extricating himself from this ss, and he also managed to unify Winster’s underworld.
And it hardly attracted much attention.
Everything seed to go with the flow.
But, in truth, it was all his calculated plan.
Even afterward, Ethan couldn’t help but want to applaud Sandro.
Truly, a man who could stand firm in Winster’s underworld for decades, his ga was magnificent, impeccable.
With Solomon taking away things from the castle, Ethan and others were released.
Because apart from evidence proving that Ethan and others fought a bloody battle with Sandro’s n in the castle, there was no evidence linking them to the King of the Beihai.
Solomon truly was a person who reasoned and followed rules, not interested in gang fights.
He only cared about the Kingdom’s safety.
Watching Solomon’s people leave the shore, Ethan also walked out from the castle, squinting as he glanced at the sowhat glaring sun, then adjusted his already tattered clothes and started walking towards the shore.
At the shore, apart from those henchn of various leaders, there were more reporters present.
From yesterday, they had heard news of a major event at Sandro’s castle, but couldn’t get inside.
Now the castle drawbridge was lowered, and soone walked out, naturally, they sward in like bloodthirsty sharks.
Especially since the person walking out was not unfamiliar to them at all.
It was none other than the art genius who had been missing for several days, Ethan Polleta.
And those familiar with the underworld of Winster knew even more the significance of Ethan walking out of Sandro’s castle.
The Black Mud King had changed hands.
————
That noon, various extra news bulletins were flying everywhere.
Mostly written based on Ethan’s first-hand interview material.
Naturally, Ethan wouldn’t respond with non-official statents; he provided the purest official answer.
Banquet, murder, counterattack.
Everyone actually knew deep down, looking at the reports, the knowledgeable ones understood what dark truths lay beneath those honorable words.
Of course, so tabloids were unrestrained, directly writing about Ethan ascending to the underground king’s throne.
No matter how the winds changed in the black mud, ordinary life continued to move forward smoothly.
At most, during leisure, people would talk about these seemingly close yet distant stories.
And in a corner where no one paid attention, the Prohibition Bureau was conducting a small-scale morial service.
Mourning the death of Prohibition Agent Albertine Court.
That day, Albertine drove alone to Sandro’s castle, although Marvin sent people after him, they were a step too late, and when they arrived, Albertine had already been shot in the head.
Originally, the murder of a Prohibition agent should have been thoroughly investigated, especially since it was a public murder, excessively arrogant.
They were sowhat aware of who the killer was.
However, this matter still ended without resolution, or rather it was thoroughly blocked, known only to a limited circle.
The reason lay in what they found on the scene.
Those things were enough to prove Albertine’s secret collusion with the Sun God Sect, involving nurous illegal transactions.
This was enough to touch their own interests.
So Marvin covered up the matter, and Albertine’s death was finally concluded as a car accident.
But the hatred towards the Bolita family would only rise, not fade.
Especially now, the underground of Winster was already dominated by the na Bolita.
"Chief, I think we need reinforcents."
Standing before Albertine’s grave, Marvin’s subordinate said to him.
Indeed, given the current situation, it was difficult to cause any harm to Ethan with just them.
Marvin, originally considering Sandro as the biggest rival, now also resigned himself.
"I’ve already requested a new order from headquarters, hoping they will send us enough capable comrades."
What Marvin didn’t know was that indeed there was aid coming to Winster, but in a way he did not want.
On the sa afternoon.
The leader of the Evans Clan, George, who survived the castle battle by luck, ended his life in a way he did not want.
He drowned in his ho’s swimming pool.
Before he died, the Evans family’s servant seed to hear him shouting, initially begging with tears, and later shouting at the top of his lungs, as if yelling sothing like my principal clan has already sent people from the Royal Capital, they’ll be here soon, if you kill , you’ll be done for!
But no one spared him. He still died.
As of this, the original five great families of Winster utterly vanished.
Those surnas that were glorious or exceptionally splendid in Winster’s history either completely perished, left for distant lands, or resigned to diocrity.
The fragile balance maintained for over a hundred years ceased to exist.
Now, Winster had only one voice.
Bolita.
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