Chapter 68: Fall

"This matter must be resolved."

When everyone had more or less finished reviewing the documents, Sandro laid down the law with what was practically a final verdict.

"Such a massive incident... surely the kingdom won't just stand by?" Hasker asked with a hint of hesitation. "Perhaps we should wait for the official authorities of the kingdom—"

"Hasker, have your brains been addled from spending too much time with women? Have you forgotten who provoked this whole mess in the first place? Even if the kingdom eventually resolves it, when will that be, and what about our business? Our business cannot afford to wait a single day!" George growled, on the verge of a furious rage.

He was genuinely panicked beyond measure.

After looking over the files, Ethan finally understood.

The so-called meme pollution occurred when ancient relics or true-name artifacts underwent mutations, spawning something lethal—effectively a curse, which they called a meme.

It could spread through a specific medium.

This time, the medium was liquid.

That explained why so many people who drank moonshine dropped dead suddenly, dying in wretched and miserable ways.

To resolve this crisis, one had to trace the source all the way to Saint-Quentin and annihilate it at the root to completely sever the spread of the meme.

"I don't care what your plans are, this must be resolved immediately. That is also the wish of the gentleman behind me," John Holt said, growing desperate as well.

Normally, he would never invoke the person backing him, but now he had no choice and had to use it as leverage.

"I will dispatch Kray to take a team to Saint-Quentin."

Sandro's meaning was crystal clear: and what about the rest of you?

George was the first to nod.

Ethan and Dani followed closely behind.

Only Hasker hesitated, but seeing everyone's eyes fixed on him, he was forced to nod as well.

"Get your candidates to me as soon as possible. We set out tonight."

With those words, Sandro turned and left.

George and Dani hurriedly rushed off to make preparations.

Only Hasker, still hesitating, shuffled over to Ethan's side.

"Ethan, you know I'm the only true-name bearer in our family, I..."

"Don't worry, Hasker. Just have your men follow mine when the time comes, everything will be fine." Ethan patted him on the shoulder.

Hasker heaved a sigh of relief, looking much like a drowning man grasping at his final straw. "Ethan, I knew you were my best friend."

Upon returning home, Ethan immediately summoned his core members for a meeting.

As soon as he finished speaking, Vincent stood up and said, "I'll take a team."

He then added, "As the second-ranked berserker under the God of War's true name, I should be the strongest person present here. Besides, I have experience dealing with meme pollution."

The second-ranked true name of the God of War—no wonder he had been able to handle Lewis so effortlessly before.

Ethan had actually been leaning toward Vincent as well, so he nodded and said, "Vincent, I'll assign a few extra men to go with you. Tell me if you need anything, but above all, ensure your own safety."

Afterward, Vincent began making his preparations.

By dusk, Ethan shared a meal with Vincent, and soon after, he prepared to set off.

Before leaving, Ethan softly instructed Vincent, "Hasker's men will be accompanying you. If the opportunity arises..."

Vincent understood Ethan's implication and gave a slight nod.

————————

Time flew by, and five days passed in the blink of an eye.

There had been no turning point whatsoever.

In the city of Winster, unfortunate souls could still be seen collapsing, wailing in agony on the streets from time to time, ultimately freezing into solid blocks of ice.

Protests and boycotts against moonshine had reached their absolute peak.

The moonshine business run by Ethan and the others had entered a profound glacial period.

During these days, Ethan had no heart for anything else. He stopped attending Winster University, stopped painting, and spent his time solely waiting for news while studying the city of Saint-Quentin on the side.

As time dragged on, the unease in his heart grew heavier and heavier.

Even with heavy snow blocking the roads, traveling from Winster to Saint-Quentin should take at most a single day.

Five days...

There had been no word for five days.

On this particular day.

Ethan was at home reading a book on the history of the northern region of the kingdom when Anya suddenly hurried inside from the outside.

"What is it?"

Though Anya usually wore a blank expression, Ethan could already sense something amiss from the aura she radiated.

"Someone has returned..."

"Where?"

Ethan stood up immediately.

"It's not Vincent." Anya instantly dealt another blow with an answer Ethan did not want to hear.

"Where?"

Ethan asked a second time.

"Just outside. I've had people administer first aid, but his condition is very bad."

With those words, Anya began walking toward the exit.

Ethan followed close behind.

In the parlor, a member of the Poleta family clad in a black windbreaker lay on the sofa, convulsing violently.

His entire body was enveloped in a layer of frost, giving the impression he was on the verge of freezing stiff at any moment.

The fireplace in the room had been stoked to its maximum heat, and he was covered with thick wool blankets and comforters, yet he continued to shiver uncontrollably.

Hot water was continuously being forced down his throat.

Ethan walked over. The man caught sight of Ethan, desperately rolling his bloodshot eyes, and managed to squeeze out: "My lord... we were subjected to an unknown attack... Lord Vincent and I were separated... I was so terrified... I'm... I'm sorry... Urgh!"

Mid-sentence, he suddenly began to vomit uncontrollably.

What he spat out was a massive quantity of foul-smelling, pitch-black fish scales.

At the exact moment of his retching, Ethan abruptly reached out his hand, as if trying to snatch something out of the air.

With a single motion, he caught it.

"Young master?" Anya instinctively stepped in front of him to shield him, watching him closely.

Ethan shook his head, gesturing that he was fine.

At that moment, the household telephone rang.

It was a call from Sandro.

Half an hour later.

On the third floor of the North Star Hotel, the meeting reconvened.

Surveying the assembled faces, Sandro, seated at the head of the table, spoke first: "It seems we weren't the only ones who had someone return."

"Did Kray make it back?" George couldn't help asking.

This was also the question burning in Ethan's mind.

"No, the one who returned was a young man." Sandro shook his head.

The situation was much the same for the other families; the ones who had returned were insignificant subordinates, while the key figures had not come back at all.

Except for the Murick family.

Not a single one of the men Hasker had sent had returned.

"So what do we do now?" John Holt's complexion looked worse than ever; he had barely gotten any proper sleep over the past few days.

And now, another piece of devastating news.

Clearly, the operation targeting Saint-Quentin had failed completely.

Was the moonshine empire truly finished?

"I'll go! I'll go myself!" George slammed his fist heavily against the table like a desperate gambler whose eyes had turned red from losing, glaring around at everyone.

His aggressive posture frightened Hasker so thoroughly that the words trembling on his lips were swallowed right back down.

Dani was the second to respond: "I'm going too. My younger brother is still out there, I have to bring him back."

Their gazes swept across the table. Hasker didn't dare meet their eyes and lowered his head.

Sandro spread his hands. "I will dispatch Emilio along with a larger force."

That left only Ethan.