Mischael's family had d their old furniture to the orphanage under the Church of the Goddess of Harvest. In his words, being reminded of people by objects was always terribly sad, so replacing them was a reluctant necessity.
Malin had no objections to this — after all, such a possibility existed. Of course, he also checked the furniture with an ultraviolet flashlight, confirming there were no bloodstains left — which factored into Malin's considerations — the Mischael family mansion was definitely not the primary crime scene. His wife must have been murdered after meeting someone and then leaving home again.
What Malin most wanted to know now was whether Mr. Mischael had any connection with the cultists.
If there was a connection, then that would be truly terrifying. For a noble in Carterburg's aristocratic district to be involved with an evil god, a door inviting wolves into the house could open at any time, which was indeed very thrilling.
If there was no connection, then how did the cultists capture his wife?
It's well known that the cultists' blood sacrifices never discriminated against anyone based on gender or age; beauty and strength were their eternal pursuits when throwing a party. If he remembered correctly, Mr. Mischael should have been of level eight in the hierarchy. In those bastards' eyes, he would have been more enticing than his wife, and they could have used his wife to lure him out — this was not Malin's paranoia, as one of the thirty brave families was wiped out in this manner.
In the eyes of evil, the offspring of a hero were far more valuable than a beautiful woman.
So, all of this said by Malin was based on Mr. Mischael loving his wife even more than himself.
This was also the reason Malin had been suspicious of Mr. Mischael — you could love yourself more than your wife; fear of death was a natural human emotion. But you should not be so calm about it, nor should you be reserved on this issue. If the evil god knew this was his wife, they would certainly act this way, as even if they couldn't capture him, they could tarnish his reputation afterward.
Of course, there could be situations Malin wasn't aware of, but he felt that he ought to give an account to the lady.
And to himself an answer.
Inside the hall of the Church of the Goddess of Harvest, Hoffman.
"Is that child still obsessed with detective games?" The old man, seated in a wheelchair, inhaled the fragrance from the garden, scattered drinks at his feet for the pigeons to fight over, and then spoke.
Colin stood beside him, smiling and nodding: "Yes, although I think his searching will probably not yield any valuable information, what he is doing is really like his foster father, Lord Gaiate. In the Thanan way of speaking, birds of a feather flock together."
"We too are no different, Colin, and that's why I wouldn't call him before me to scold him." The old man placed the drink pouch on his lap, seemingly with regret or perhaps reminiscing about something: "Take good care of him. The child should have the freedom to explore the world as long as it doesn't impact others' lives; this is my bottom line."
"No problem, Teacher," Colin nodded.
At this moment, a Proxy briskly walked in: "Lord Hoffman, Sir Colin."
"What is it?" Colin took over the conversation.
"We have confirmed the traces of Chaos."
"Then what are we waiting for? Colin, lead the team, eliminate them all, the blood of the goddess's followers must not be shed in vain." Having said that, Lord Hoffman scattered a handful of bird feed.
Although the information had been confirmed, Malin had not withdrawn from the proclamation.
Firstly, the relationship between Faye and Maya had become very good, the two girls often played together, which convinced Malin of one thing — the girl was a serious cat fanatic.
Secondly, Malin wanted to confirm whom the gentleman was usually associated with, to see if he could find new clues through other means.
Thirdly, since finding out that Malin was the most dedicated person involved, his daily two reward points had become six; with a month of work, Malin could get himself a better revolver.
So today, Malin was still pushing the cart, with the girls giggling and following behind him, cheerfully walking towards the noble district.
"Are you really not a monster?"
A guy named Logan had also come to participate in the proclamation task that day. He didn't get along with Faye and fancied another girl in the team named Miriam, a local, very cute, and most importantly, a pure human girl.
Indeed, Southerners preferred purebred humans, and as a Northerner, Faye's relationship with Logan wasn't much better.
Malin glanced at his luggage and huffed with a poor look, then laughed: "I'm a half-blood."
"I know, but isn't this too unfair? There are still people sitting on it."
"It's not heavy." In Malin's view, the cart only had two little girls, few dozen pounds, which wasn't much for a well-fed Malin.
Logan rolled his eyes exaggeratedly: "I really can't stand you, Malin."
"Thanks," Malin said with a smile: "Actually, you're not bad either."
"No comparison to you," said Logan, switching his luggage to the other hand and then looking back at his girl.
Malin turned as well, seeing Miriam giving Logan an encouraging gesture.
Young man, keep up that act, even if teary-eyed, you've got to pull it off.
With this mindset, Malin heard an explosion coming from a distance.
He stopped in his tracks; it wasn't just Malin — everyone in the team noticed the explosion.
"What's going on?" Logan looked towards the direction of the sound — that was the Western District.
Colin frowned as the explosion from the second floor and the flames spurting from the windows did not surprise the young man—he had seen worse, so it really didn't matter.
After all, these agents of Chaos were bound to die.
With that thought, Colin noticed a commotion coming from another side.
"What's happening?" he asked his subordinates.
A man turned werewolf took advantage of the crossfire on the first floor to blow up a spell formation on the second floor and successfully escaped through the window, breaking out of the encirclement.
The good news was that the Punisher had already begun pursuit, and he wouldn't get far.
As the master of the manor, Mr. Mischael stood at the door of his wife's room, looking at the brand-new furniture, his face full of pain.
"Why..." he muttered, his nails digging deep into his palms, then he pounded heavily on the door.
"Why, Camilla?" he choked as he approached the bed, looking at the photograph of his wife on the small cabinet.
Then he sat on the bed, looked at the shoes that had lost their owner, at the pet dog whimpering in the corner, at the wind chimes on the ceiling. Finally, the young head of the household approached the small dog, carefully lifted it, carefully cradled it, carefully gripped its neck... and twisted it, breaking it.
The male head of the Mischael family looked up, his once handsome face full of distortion and hatred.
"Why did you betray me."
He dropped the lifeless body of the pet dog on the floor, smashed open the door, and ripped apart his beloved wife's portrait on the wall.
Then he looked up again, this time towards the Western District.
"Such uselessness... even against such trash, still useless!"
The next second, Mr. Mischael turned to ash within his own manor.
The following second, Mr. Mischael appeared on top of a three-story building. Below, a werewolf was running frantically, trying to escape.
Malin could feel danger approaching, just like last time with The Cutter.
The only difference probably lay in the speed—the Cutter had been slow, whereas this time, the danger was like a runaway carriage.
"There might be danger. Should we take cover?" Malin said solemnly.
His expression immediately made Maya bristle. The Cat Girl quickly grasped the seriousness in Malin's words.
"Maybe something exploded, it couldn't be that dangerous, right?" Logan had just said that when everyone at the end of the avenue saw a wolf running on two legs.
Malin almost slapped himself awake before realizing, this was a werewolf.
This time, there was no need for Malin to issue a warning. The girls scattered swiftly. Maya leaped out of the vehicle, dragging Faye while running toward Malin, as Logan dropped his luggage and ran towards the bewildered Miriam.
Their movements all slowed as Malin expressionlessly sensed the sudden surge of danger and saw a dark figure leaping down from the rooftop—ever since it appeared, Malin's every cell sent frantic warnings to their master, just like last time.
As everyone was falling down, Malin noticed the dark figure looking at him.
Putting on an act, Malin with an extremely dramatic inner self rolled back his eyes and fell backward—surely this person had employed some sort of hypnotic or mind-controlling spell formation, and if they realized he was immune to these spell formations, it would be an unbearable ordeal. So, for his own safety, it was better to pretend.
"Move aside!" That must have been the werewolf's howl.
And the dark figure gave no response. Neither of them had come together for love and peace, so in the next second, the dark figure and the werewolf collided with a massive impact.
From their performance, the direct combat power was an absolute overbearing force—in the situation where both were Transcendents, Malin's own strength was simply inconsequential.
Meanwhile, the even more motionless Malin noticed a photograph fluttering close to him, landing with a slap on Logan's face.
The photograph featured a very young woman, quite beautiful, someone Malin had seen a few days earlier.
Mrs. Camilla, we meet again.
Since you're here, does that mean that the strong man, who just tore apart the werewolf with his bare hands, is your dearly intimate Mr. Mischael?
Truly... a chilling revelation.