Mr. Smith frowned.
He knew the 'chanism Master' Kid.
In fact, he was quite familiar.
During that war, he had dealt with the opponent more than once—a unique state of both cooperation and opposition, and the opponent's talent was very unique.
But it wasn't difficult to deal with.
Of course, that was for both him and 'Him'.
As for him now?
He really wanted to kill the opponent, but the chance was less than thirty percent.
Because of the opponent's unique talent.
Unless it's overwhelming strength.
Otherwise, if pulled into a positional battle by the opponent, the continuous flow of 'constructed bodies' is enough to make anyone's scalp tingle.
Mr. Smith was no exception.
Thus, Mr. Smith imdiately lowered his voice and said—
"I'm not sure I can kill him.
Furthermore, I can't find him."
Facing 'Death', Mr. Smith did not look for more excuses.
Because he knew very well, such excuses were completely useless to Death.
Finding such excuses would only bring humiliation.
It was better to be straightforward.
Kiri imdiately drew imaginary patterns on the floor.
My people will lure him out.
Then, you deliver the fatal blow.
See you at the Lion Palace in the evening.
"If that's the case, I can give it a try!"
Mr. Smith said so.
And that was enough.
With the contract's existence, the other party would not lie.
Instantly, Arthur ordered Kiri to temporarily leave and conceal himself, awaiting orders.
And at this ti, Arthur just returned to his and Marinda's room—
About 20 square ters.
With a basic bed, cabinet, chairs, and table, as well as a separate washroom.
And in the opened Wicker Box, there were so clothes ant for decoration that suited the season and their identity.
In these small details, whether Arthur or Marinda, they were extrely careful.
"How's it going, my dear?"
Marinda opened the door and upon seeing Arthur, imdiately let out a sigh of relief and asked with lingering trepidation.
"It's nothing.
Just so minor incident.
The inn we're staying in is very safe."
Arthur answered.
Then he entered the room, closed the door, and locked it, before whispering in an extrely low voice: "There's been a riot at Kilg Harbor."
"Ah!"
Marinda gasped sharply, but imdiately covered her mouth with her hand.
"It's alright, it's alright, I'm here!"
Arthur imdiately embraced Marinda softly, comforting her.
Marinda didn't shy away but embraced Arthur back warmly, writing on Arthur's back with her fingers—
'Settled?'
Arthur was not surprised at all.
He wasn't surprised that Marinda could guess his intentions.
Marinda's wisdom was acknowledged by Arthur.
And the appearance of the 'Storm Inn' was too obvious.
He was not soone who pursued enjoynt.
Thus his visit to the 'Storm Inn' naturally had other purposes.
Instantly, Arthur also wrote with his fingers.
'Half settled.'
The fingertips traced across the back, the sensation of heat quickly spread, followed by a tingly sensation, Marinda biting her lip controlling her body not to tense, nor tremble, she promptly wrote.
'Half?'
'Yes, half.
Because so things were delayed.
But it can be made up soon.'
Arthur sensed Marinda's anomaly.
Marinda controlled the tension and trembling, but her breathing was erratic.
This was imdiately discovered by Arthur.
And then...
Arthur wrote a little more.
When he noticed Marinda's breathing getting faster, Arthur finally wrote out the answer.
'In the evening.
I need a little help from you.'
"Alright."
Marinda didn't refuse.
Firstly, she trusts Arthur not to let her suffer.
Secondly, at the mont, she just wants to quickly end this conversation.
Otherwise, she would embarrass herself.
Arthur was smart enough.
Having already gained an advantage, naturally, he wanted to show his innocence—in this situation, overstepping would be reckless.
Arthur understood Marinda's intelligence.
Perhaps she wouldn't realize at the mont.
But once calm, she would certainly understand it was intentional.
At that mont, he would be in trouble.
Thus, he had to stop while ahead.
Breathing steadily.
Just as Arthur predicted, Marinda quickly regained her composure and realized Arthur had done it on purpose.
She imdiately glared fiercely at Arthur.
It was completely subconscious, this lady thinking about how to retaliate.
However, when Arthur took her hand, this thought froze.
Arthur wrote in her palm—
'Do you have any long-range secret techniques?'
'I'm not the main offensive?'
Marinda collected her thoughts and quickly retorted.
'Of course not.
It's just in case.
Because my partner might hold back.
Or...
He might be unable to exert himself.
At that ti, I hope you can act from a distance to restrain the target.'
Arthur explained.
He had considerable confidence in Mr. Smith.
Perhaps, the opponent was no longer 'Him'.
But the one who used to be 'Him' must have considerable ability.
Especially in terms of trump cards!
Most people cannot have as many trump cards as a Demigod!
Having the experience of multiple encounters with Demigods, particularly Miha and Yiluo's performance, Arthur understood deeply.
Mr. Smith certainly wouldn't be that extre.
But with Mrs. Smith, Mr. Smith's extres will far surpass Miha and Yiluo—the existence of love is synonymous with miracles.
Moreover, it is the interpretation of disaster.
Arthur even believed that if Mrs. Smith encountered an accident, Mr. Smith would fall to the extent of 'My wife is dead, right or wrong I care not.'
Similarly, if Mr. Smith faced an accident, Mrs. Smith would certainly be willing to drag everyone down to death.
Believing in this sentint, Arthur silently applauded.
He, Arthur, wasn't a bad person.
Nor was he a scher.
He was just a Spirit dium.
A Little dium coordinating and borrowing various forces to fulfill his small wish.
As a Little dium, what bad intentions could he have?
"Linda, you should rest for a while.
You didn't sleep all night."
Arthur comforted Marinda.
Just like a true married couple.
And in the room, Mrs. Smith, who heard all this, finally felt relieved.
'Everything is just a coincidence.'
Thinking this, Mrs. Smith thought even further.
Using a spring altar, she almost witnessed the battle at 'St. Joan of Arc Girls' College', everything else was immaterial.
But that 'Blood Descendant'!
How should she contact the opponent?
It is known, reasonably avoiding her husband is not easy.
Just then, Mr. Smith returned.
With a serious expression.
Mrs. Smith imdiately asked—
"What's wrong?"
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