Chapter 69: To the Storm

"I will lead the team personally."

As soon as these words were spoken, the matter was settled.

The second operation was about to begin.

Everyone except the Morridge family was prepared to participate.

Haska was already trembling slightly.

Sandro did not look at him, but instead looked at the others and said, "Gentlemen, you will not be fighting alone this time."

With that, he passed a letter to the others.

Ethan glanced at it as well. It turned out to be a letter from the Assembly of True Names, signed by the King of Win斯特.

In the letter, he stated that the contamination in Saint-Quentin had seriously threatened the safety of the Northern Territory, and since the kingdom had repeatedly failed to act, they, as holders of True Names, should step forward to resolve the issue.

He called upon everyone to accompany him to Saint-Quentin to clear the contamination, promising that anyone who participated would be rewarded with a Tier-3 alchemical artifact or something of equivalent value as a token of gratitude.

Judging by this letter, the King of Winscort truly possessed a certain regal aura.

"The King of Winscort, as far as I know, possesses the strength of at least a Tier-4 True Name holder. It won't be overly dangerous to operate alongside him."

Sandro continued immediately, "As for your absence while you are in Saint-Quentin, I can promise you that no one will be allowed to touch the interests of any of your families."

Finally, he announced the punishment for Haska's cowardice.

Haska's share of future business profits would be halved as compensation to the other four families.

Hearing this, Haska could finally hold back no longer. He said somewhat hysterically, "Is there truly no other way? What if they fail again this time?"

The conference room fell silent in an instant.

Everyone turned to look at him. Sandro lowered his eyelids slightly and said in a deep voice, "You had better pray that they return successfully, Haska, otherwise you will have to take the final path."

"What path?" Haska's voice turned hoarse. The suave and debonair demeanor he usually possessed was completely gone, leaving him looking utterly wretched.

"The very path you have in mind—you will lead the entire Morridge family in spreading the meme, plunging the entire northern kingdom into terror. Wouldn't all eyes turn here then?"

Sandro even let out a low chuckle.

Haska no longer dared to make a sound; his throat felt as dry and sticky as if it had been glued shut.

If they truly did that, the Morridge family would...

————————————————

"Young Master, you cannot go. The family cannot do without you. Let me go instead! I will risk my life to bring Young Master Vincent back!"

Upon hearing the outcome of the meeting, Vilon was the first to object.

To the Pauletta family, Ethan was the absolute heart and totem.

It was he who had raised the banner of the Pauletta family once more.

That banner must never fall.

"Vilon, you don't understand. I must go."

Ethan shook his head as he looked at him.

It was not merely because Vincent was still trapped there.

Today's meeting was no longer just a question of who would go and who would stay.

This was about choosing a side.

Clearly, after this ordeal, no matter what happened, the Morridge family was utterly doomed.

And if Ethan did not go, he would be marked as the next target.

For a triangle was the most stable structure.

The fourth corner would be lopped off.

To take a step back, even if he stubbornly sent Vilon and Anya, what if they too fell in Saint-Quentin?

Then he would find himself utterly alone.

This was also a gamble.

Yet, compared to when he stood outside the doors of the North Star, whether to step off the carriage or flee immediately, his heart no longer stirred with such tumultuous waves.

Besides, he was not entirely without a chance of winning.

Setting aside the King of Winscort, who sounded like a decent insurance policy, Ethan's true reliance and trump card was...

The 'Name of the True God'.

That afternoon, right as that member of the family who had escaped from Saint-Quentin was dying, Ethan had intercepted something hovering around him.

To outsiders, there had indeed been nothing there.

Yet, in his eyes, he had truly seen something.

At that moment, he had seen snowflake-like pitch-black matter rise from the family member's body, on the verge of dissipating into the air.

And that pitch-black matter was exuding an aura that caused the 'Name of the True God' to continuously vibrate and resonate.

It felt identical to the sensation he had experienced when stroking the family crest earlier.

Thus, he had thrust out his hand and grasped that patch of pitch-black snow.

Instantly, the snowflake melted into his palm, and was subsequently absorbed and devoured by the 'Name of the True God'.

The 'Name of the True God' grew denser as a result.

It had grown once more.

That was something akin to nourishment.

In other words, perhaps the contamination in Saint-Quentin, which was like a curse and poison to everyone else, would prove to be the finest nourishment for Ethan instead.

"Vilon, listen to me. Guard our home well and wait for my return. I will bring everything back."

Ethan patted Vilon heavily on the shoulder.

Vilon took a deep breath and slowly lowered his head.

——————————————————

"Just as you predicted, Ethan and the others are about to set out as well."

In the third-floor grand conference room of the Prohibition Bureau,

Marvin walked in briskly and looked at Ebelin, who was gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the sea.

The sky had already grown dark, and night was about to fall.

"What a pity."

Yet the first words out of Ebelin's mouth were an expression of regret.

"What a pity for what?"

"A pity that not a single true fool is among them. We even left a path open for them to take."

"Black mud always possesses the wisdom of black mud," Marvin remarked, before adding, "According to internal news I received, a special operations team departing from the capital will arrive in Winscort in three days to handle the Saint-Quentin incident. Would you like to go out and hide for a bit? I will do everything in my power to protect you and ensure you aren't transferred away."

"Do you know who is leading them?"

"Heisenberg."

"So it's him. I know him. I believe he won't make things difficult for me, because I acted for the kingdom's interests, while those who died were merely individuals who condoned crime—they deserved their fate."

Ebelin waved a hand dismissively, then asked,

"By the way, why is there no phonograph here?"

"A phonograph?"

"Yes, a phonograph. Don't you think a wonderful piece of music is called for at a time like this? Ludwig—do you like Ludwig? I am fond of his *Storm*. Da... da-da-dum!"

As Ebelin spoke, he suddenly began to hum, his momentum soaring to great heights, and the previously tranquil gaze behind his glasses grew feverish.

His hands gestured in the air, finally concluding with a motion as if drawing open a curtain.

It was as if the entirety of Winscort was a stage he had built, and the people within it were marching toward their ultimate fate under his choreography.

Ethan, Ethan, go on. Go to the place destined for you.

Will you still be able to escape this time?