Pudder, who hadn't slept for the whole night, closed his eyes for a while at dawn.
His swollen chest and dry eyes told the chief officer that it was time for a good rest since he wasn't young anymore.
But …
Looking at the documents on his desk, Pudder quickly pulled himself together.
It was only at times like this that Pudder envied those extraordinary individuals. Their stamina and energy far surpassed a common man's, it was something Pudder yearned for but couldn't get.
However, right away, the chief officer cursed those Extraordinaires who acted recklessly again.
The battle at the outskirts of the city yesterday, although it didn't affect the civilians, a hundred meters of roads and electric cables were completely destroyed. Repairing them would be no small task. Once he thought about how he had to submit a detailed report to the city hall, Pudder's temples started to swell.
However, the worst was yet to come.
Last night, more than a dozen cases of arson happened consecutively.
No casualties but many buildings were damaged.
"What a bunch of bastards!
Can't they learn from that bastard?
He might be cold but he knows what he wants to do and never acts recklessly! "
Looking at the report in his hand, Pudder couldn't help but think of Kieran.
Pudder's impression of Kieran was extremely complicated.
Even though Pudder was still loyal to his duty, the debt of saving his life was still a debt of gratitude, he couldn't forget it.
Or in other words, how could a person who forgot the debt of saving his life be loyal to his duty?
The middle-aged chief officer pulled his already loosened collar and pondered with a serious expression.
He thought he had to repay Kieran's debt of gratitude.
Otherwise, it would affect his future work.
He knew his job was destined to cause conflict between him and Kieran.
It wasn't good or bad.
It was just a difference of ideals.
"What should I do?"
Pudder muttered to himself.
Then, knocks came from the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Come in."
Pudder said.
"Coffee, hot dog and salad.
Less sugar for the coffee and no dressing for the salad. "
Michael pushed the door open and showed the bag of food to Pudder.
"Thanks, McCall."
You can rest today, report tomorrow on time. "
The middle-aged sergeant said with a smile.
The reason why the young assistant was given a day off was not because he had brought breakfast, but because he had not rested for three consecutive days.
As for him?
At the very least, he had been knocked unconscious by that fellow and slept for quite a long time.
"Yes."
The young assistant nodded and turned to leave.
The moment he turned around to open the door, the young assistant showed a helpless expression. Instinctively, he turned around to the middle-aged chief officer who was back to work. He wanted to say something, but before the words left his mouth, the young assistant gave up.
Picking up his coat, the young assistant said goodbye to the people who were still working overtime and quickly left the police station.
However, he didn't go home.
Instead, he walked to a 24-hour fast food restaurant not far from his house.
"Iced Coke, fish and chips."
After ordering from the waiter, the young assistant walked to the table in the corner.
There was no one there, but when the waiter brought the food over, someone sat behind the young assistant.
"You're late!"
The newcomer said in a low voice.
"I've tried my best to get there!"
The young assistant replied coldly.
At first, he liked his job very much. He thought it was cool to do this, and he could earn a high salary. However, as time passed, the longer he stayed with the middle-aged sheriff, the more difficult it was for him to adapt to his current identity. Especially when he handed over some secret information to the person who came to him, a sense of guilt would emerge.
He really wanted to quit.
But he couldn't get rid of the life before his eyes.
"According to the deal, this is what you want."
The young assistant passed the detailed information of the arson case to the man behind him. He didn't turn around, instead, he passed the information through the gap of the chair.
The man behind him also passed a paper bag to the young assistant.
The young assistant hesitated for a while before taking the bag.
He knew what was inside.
However, he wasn't as excited as before. Quite the opposite, all he felt was a burning sensation in his hand.
"Some things are better left to think about.
You know what will happen if you break the deal, "the man behind him said casually.
The person behind him said in a seemingly unintentional manner. Without waiting for the young assistant to say anything, he stood up and left the fast food restaurant.
The young assistant sat in the fast food restaurant for a while before he stood up.
He didn't call the waiter, he packed the food himself.
When he walked out of the fast food restaurant and felt the blinding sunlight, the young assistant smiled helplessly.
Yes!
Once he violated the initial agreement, he knew very well what would happen to him.
But …
The torment in his heart was worse than death.
…
Cymilaide quickly returned to his hotel room with the paper bag.
"Fools are contagious.
Hope you don't do anything you'll regret. "
Cymilaide muttered to himself after he threw the paper bag on the table.
He had seen too many young men like this.
A little seduction would turn them into a so-called secret agent.
But most of them would regret it.
Similarly, nine out of ten people who regretted it would not have a good ending.
There were professionals in the Senate who dealt with these regretful people.
Not him.
He wouldn't take on such a job.
It was too dangerous!
He was a man who wanted to retire peacefully!
Therefore, Cymilaide was very against the upcoming plan, but he couldn't reject it.
"What a f * cking life!"
Cymilaide cursed under his breath before he opened the paper bag and went through the information he had just gotten. The more he read, the more shocked he became.
Soon enough, Cymilaide's forehead was covered in a layer of sweat.
Unlike a bystander, as one of the participants, Cymilaide knew all the places.
Every single one of them was the temporary hideout for those who ambushed him.
"So he will take revenge?"
His questioning tone carried a strong sense of palpitation.
Cymilaide was certain the fire was the handiwork of that person.
The worst thing was, Cymilaide's next mission was to pay that person a visit.
"This is bad!"
Cymilaide leaned back in his chair, muttering softly.
…
17th Randletine Street.
After a scrumptious and enjoyable breakfast, Kieran walked into his study room.
The Old Book, who was drawing and scribbling, stood up with a smile when he saw Kieran.
"You must have some good news."
Kieran said with a smile.
"I didn't let you down, my lord.
According to the records in these secret books, I've gotten some general information about Lady Mordin.
First, she shouldn't be a craftsman who was imprisoned during the papal era, but the saintess of Armiad Religious Sect during the papal era.
On top of that, this saintess is very different from the rest. She isn't just a saintess, she should be a powerful warlock, a Demon Hunter.
She can wield fire, is skilled with a greatsword, has a raven, and is familiar with potionology, mystical knowledge, and sculpting.
No doubt, in terms of sculpting, she has reached a level that no one in history can surpass. "
The Old Book said slowly.
"Warlock?"
Kieran raised a brow.
Based on the mystical knowledge that he grasped, a warlock usually relied on the power of their bloodline to unleash extraordinary power, and the source of their bloodline was the root of their power.
Those bloodlines might be from the elves of nature.
They might also be from the dragons that soared in the sky.
Or the devils from the bottomless abyss.
Almost out of instinct, when Kieran heard the word 'warlock', he thought of the words that appeared on the pedestal of [Hell Breath].
Dad, save me!
It's dark here, I'm scared — Mordin!
"What kind of warlock bloodline is she?"
Kieran asked.
"Devil!"
The Old Book gave the answer with a weird look.
"Devil …"
Kieran frowned.
"My lord, maybe it's just a coincidence, I didn't find anything about you in all the books, neither did I find anything in my deductions."
The Old Book tried to comfort Kieran.
Coincidence?
Unfortunately, he never believed in coincidences.
Kieran went into deep thought for a while before asking, "What else did you find?"
"There's one more important discovery!
"That Madam Mordin seemed to be involved in something big. Then, she wholeheartedly focused on the carving technique and fused it with her own power!"
But I don't know what kind of big event it was.
The information is still too little! "
The Old Book said in a regretful tone as he stood in front of hundreds of thick books.
Kieran didn't blame the Old Book for his lack of knowledge.
He knew even though there were hundreds of books, what he really needed was a single line or even half a line of words from each book.
If it wasn't for the Old Book, it would have been impossible to get all the information without spending a huge amount of manpower, resources, and time.
Of course, the Old Book wasn't omnipotent.
After all, there were some things that couldn't be recorded.
Or more precisely, the books and scrolls that recorded the information couldn't be found anymore.
Time was the scariest weapon!
Nothing could last forever in time!
Decay and withering were the rules of time!
Therefore, he had to find another way.
"Ferris?"
Kieran called out to the door.
"My lord, what are your orders?"
The Freezer replied meticulously as he walked in.
"Do you know how to sculpt?"
Kieran asked.
"Sculpt?
A little but not proficient. "
The Freezer replied after being stunned for a while.
"A little is enough!"
Kieran smiled.
…
After visiting all the famous pastries and specialty eateries in Alkender City, Cymilaide brought a big pile of food to 17th Randletine Street.
Ding Dong!
"Good day, I am Cymilaide, here to visit Hon. 2567."
Cymilaide politely rang the doorbell and introduced himself to the intercom. At the same time, he raised the food in his hand so that the camera could capture it clearly.
"Hold on."
The cold voice from the communicator answered.
Two seconds later, the door opened.
Ferris was sizing up Cymilaide, his eyes lingering on the food in Cymilaide's hand for a while before he moved aside.
"Come in."
Ferris said.
"Thank you."
Cymilaide lowered his head and bowed.
Cymilaide then followed Ferris into the study room.
As a matter of fact, 17th Randletine Street before him had been through the blueprints more than 30 times, so he couldn't be more familiar with the place, including the secret room.
Of course, it also included the people who lived in the place.
Ferris, Odork, Emma Eddie, and the new addition, Goran.
Cymilaide had already gotten his hands on the information of these people.
He also had his own guesses about Ferris and Odork's true identity.
As for Goran?
He knew them like the back of his hand.
However, Cymilaide dared not show any of his thoughts at this particular moment.
The identity of these people wasn't important to him or the House of Commons.
What was important was the person that these people followed.
Several councilmen of the House of Commons had started to pay attention to that person and gave him the order to 'investigate'.
Truth be told, Cymilaide really wanted to hang the person who gave the order up and beat him up.
Was the Glutton Emperor that easy to investigate?
A slight misstep and he would die in the line of duty!
Even if everything went smoothly, he had to spend two months of his salary just to meet the Glutton Emperor!
Cymilaide's heart was filled with despair when he thought about his empty wallet.
Although he could claim it, the complicated process would take at least another two months. During this period of time, he would have to live frugally.
Somehow, when he thought about living frugally, his heart skipped a beat.
The food that he thought was ordinary a moment ago suddenly tasted delicious.
Gulping hard, Cymilaide warned himself in his heart that the food was a tribute to keep him safe, he mustn't touch it, he mustn't touch it.
The door to the study room wasn't closed.
Cymilaide saw Kieran sitting behind the desk at the entrance of the study room.
However, at the next moment, his eyes uncontrollably landed on the desk in front of Kieran.
This desk was very spacious, but at this moment, the surface of the desk was filled with things.
Two sharp unsheathed longswords, a dagger in a leather sheath, and a pair of leather armor that looked like it had been through the ages.
Cymilaide's gaze was very vicious.
A single glance was enough to tell the swords and daggers were items with special powers, and the leather armor was one of the treasures.
He once saw a similar leather armor in a certain councilman's collection room.
Rumor had it that the councilman spent a fortune on the leather armor and used some underhanded methods to get it.
Now?
A similar leather armor was casually thrown on the office table. The owner of the armor was concentrating on the strange sculpture in his hand.
A sculpture?
Cymilaide was stunned for a moment before reacting to the situation.
The House of Commons investigator immediately covered his eyes and knelt down with a thud.
"I know the rules!
I know everything!
I didn't see anything!
I don't know anything! "
As he spoke, Cymilaide crawled out.
"Come back."
Kieran said calmly.
"Okay."
Cymilaide turned around and crawled back.
"Do you recognize this sculpture?"
Kieran asked.
"Y-Yes, it should be the sculpture of the legendary Master Mordin."
Cymilaide stuttered.
"Of course I know it's Mordin's work.
What I'm asking is, do you know it belongs to Mordin's work? "
Asked Kieran as he placed the sculpture on the desk.
Cymilaide looked up shakily and carefully removed his hands from his eyes. He took a glance at Kieran and after he didn't notice anything unusual, he turned to the sculpture.
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