"I will personally lead the team."
As soon as these words were spoken,
the decision was final.
The second operation was about to be launched.
Apart from the Murich family, everyone else was ready to participate.
Haska was already trembling slightly.
Sandro, however, did not look at him but at the others, saying, "Everyone, this ti you won’t be fighting alone."
As he spoke, he passed a letter to the others.
Ethan glanced at it too, and it turned out to be a letter from the Gathering of True-Naers, signed by the King of Winster.
In the letter, he stated that the pollution in Saint Kuanti had severely threatened the safety of the Northern Lands, and with the Kingdom being slow to act, it was ti for all true-na bearers to stand up and resolve the issue.
He urged everyone to join him in going to Saint Kuanti to eliminate the pollution. Those who participated would be rewarded later with a third-level alchemized creation or sothing of equivalent value as gratitude.
From this letter, the King of Winster indeed carried a regal aura.
The King of Winster, as far as I know, possesses at least the strength of a fourth-level true-na bearer. Following him won’t be too dangerous."
Sandro continued, saying, "As for you all traveling to Saint Kuanti, I can promise that no one will infringe on any of your families’ interests."
Finally, he ntioned the punishnt for Haska’s reluctance to fight.
In subsequent business deals, Haska would have to reduce his share by half as compensation to the other four families.
Hearing this, Haska couldn’t help it anymore. With a bit of hysteria, he said, "Isn’t there any other way? What if they fail again this ti?"
The conference room fell silent instantly.
Everyone stared at him, Sandro’s eyelids lowering slightly as he said in a deep voice, "You better pray they return successfully, or else you’ll have to take the final path, Haska."
"What path?" Haska’s voice was hoarse, devoid of his usual charming deanor, looking extrely distressed.
"The path you have in mind, leading the entire Murich family to spread s, letting the entire northern part of the Kingdom fall into fear—wouldn’t that draw everyone’s attention?"
Sandro even let out a low chuckle.
Haska dared not make a sound, his throat so dry it felt stuck.
If they really went through with that, the Murich family would...
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"Young master, you can’t go, the family can’t do without you. Let go. I will bring back Young Master Vincent with my life!"
Upon hearing the eting’s outco, Virel was the first to protest.
For the Bolita family, Ethan was the absolute heart and emblem.
It was he who had raised the Bolita family’s banner once more.
This banner must not fall.
"Virel, you don’t understand, I have to go."
Ethan, however, shook his head at him.
It’s not just because Vincent was still trapped there.
Today’s eting was no longer about who goes and who doesn’t.
This was about taking a stand.
Clearly, after this matter, no matter what, the Murich family would be completely finished.
And if Ethan didn’t go, he would be marked as the next one.
Because a triangle is the most stable structure.
The fourth corner would be cut off.
Even taking a step back, even if he insisted on sending Virel and Anya, what if they too beca trapped in Saint Kuanti?
He would be left all alone.
This was also a gamble.
But compared to standing at the gate of the Beihai Star back then, his heart was no longer in turmoil as to whether to get off the car or leave imdiately.
And, he wasn’t without a chance of success.
Apart from the so-called insurance of the King of Winster, Ethan’s real insurance and reliance was...
’True God’s Na.’
This afternoon, when a family mber escaped from Saint Kuanti, Ethan caught sothing around him before he died.
To outsiders, it seed like there was nothing.
But in his eyes, he indeed saw sothing.
He saw snowflake-like black substance rising from the family mber’s body, about to dissipate into the air.
And that black substance was emitting a resonance that constantly vibrated and echoed with ’True God’s Na.’
Just like when he caressed the family crest back then.
So he reached out and grabbed that piece of black snowflake.
Instantaneously, the snowflake lted in his palm, then was absorbed and devoured by ’True God’s Na.’
’True God’s Na’ thereby grew more substantial.
It had grown again.
That was so kind of nutrient-like substance.
In other words, perhaps, what was like a curse and poison to others in Saint Kuanti might be the best supplent for Ethan.
"Virel, listen to , guard the house, shrink everything, wait for my return, I will bring back everything."
Ethan patted Virel’s shoulder heavily.
Virel took a deep breath and slowly lowered his head.
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"As you predicted, Ethan and his group will set off too."
In the Prohibition Bureau’s large conference room on the third floor.
Marvin walked in briskly, looking at Albertine, who was gazing at the sea through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The sky had already darkened, the night was about to fall.
"What a pity."
Yet the first words Albertine said were of pity.
"Pity for what?"
"Pity none of them are real fools, clearly we had left them a road to walk."
"Black mud always has its own wisdom," Marvin said, then added, "I’ve gotten insider news of a special operations group departing from the Royal Capital, arriving in Winster in three days to handle the Saint Kuanti incident. Do you want to go into hiding for a while? I will do my utmost to protect you, ensuring you won’t be reassigned."
"Do you know who the leader is?"
"Heisenberg."
"So it’s him, I know him. I think he won’t make things difficult for , because I act for the Kingdom’s benefit, and those who died were rely indulging in cri. They deserve to die."
Albertine waved his hand, then asked,
"By the way, why don’t we set up a phonograph here?"
"A phonograph?"
"Yes, a phonograph. Don’t you think this mont calls for a wonderful lody? Ludwig, do you like Ludwig? I love his ’To the Tempest,’ dunn... dunn dunn dunn!"
As Albertine spoke, he suddenly began to hum, with an imnsely high spirit, his eyes beneath his glasses, usually calm, had beco fervent.
His hands moved, finally making a motion of drawing curtains.
As if the entire Winster was his stage, and the people within were walking towards their destined end under his orchestration.
Go forth, go forth, sinners, to your destined places of demise.
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