Chapter Fifty-Nine: Guidance

Qin Le opened the door to his room, where his personal guards and Wen Bi, the lead diplomat of the delegation, were already waiting outside.

Wen Bi stepped forward with a smile. “Major, did you sleep well last night?”

Except for Iron Fist and Falcon, the others all wore faint smiles on their faces.

Qin Le shook his head helplessly. “After sleeping on the sofa for several days, what do you think?”

Wen Bi looked a bit surprised at this, but the other elite soldiers didn’t seem at all taken aback. After all, during the Empire’s era, high-ranking officials often gifted officers women of exceptional beauty as rewards, true to the meaning of the word.

Usually, the sergeant majors would keep these women for a time before secretly sending them away. Some, however, would refuse to leave.

Wen Bi glanced at the pair of twin maids standing silently behind Qin Le and asked in surprise, “Major, there’s no need for restraint, really. This is all for the sake of the mission—nothing will come of it. Besides, it helps to soothe the king’s mood. If you refuse everything, it might cause trouble.”

“Better to err on the side of caution. We can just humor the king with a few words,” Qin Le replied, waving his hand dismissively. “Worst case, I’ll tell the king I’m taking these two maids back to the base with me as observation subjects.”

He couldn’t be sure what strange methods this world might have. Falling to temptation could lead to trouble.

Wen Bi, seeing his mind was made up, said nothing more. He handed Qin Le a folder. “This is intelligence compiled by the Language and Script Guidance Expert Group. The first part is for the Hunter’s Guild, the second for the nobility.”

Qin Le flipped through the folder quickly. The text was all written in the common tongue, and the content was mostly unchanged from what he expected. What stood out was that the intelligence and speculations, when considered alongside recent events, all seemed to point toward the Crown Prince.

Qin Le’s expression turned a bit odd. “I once heard that anyone who plays at psychological warfare is rotten to the core.”

At first glance, these two documents looked harmless, but in reality, they were like magical batons for directing events. If someone simply told you these things, you’d be suspicious, but if you deduced them yourself, you’d stubbornly believe them to be true.

Qin Le couldn’t help but marvel at the terrifying efficiency of a state machine operating at full force—devouring everyone from all sides, weaving an invisible net that drove everyone toward its desired goal.

By the time you realize you’re caught in the net, there’s no escape. The King of Dawn had fallen prey, and so would the Hunter’s Guild and the great nobles.

“We’re simply providing intelligence. What they choose to do with it is their own affair,” Wen Bi said with a slight smile.

...

In a side hall of the royal palace, Roy, president of the Hunter’s Guild, and Irene sat at a long table, quietly awaiting the sudden appearance of the Grand Duke from the Eastern Realm.

Both of them bore some injuries from the previous night’s unexpected attack. If not for the use of rare potions, they’d likely still be bedridden.

“He’s really taking his time. Maybe he was busy all night,” Irene leaned boredly against her chair, her long, powerful yet slender legs crossed on the table, utterly unconcerned with her princessly image.

Roy sighed. “Your Highness, please mind your appearance and your words.”

Ever since she left the kingdom after that incident years ago and became a monster hunter, this princess had thrown decorum to the wind.

“What’s there to hide? Isn’t this what you men like? Still, the old man is surprisingly skilled in this area—arranging twin sisters, most people couldn’t resist,” Irene said indifferently, then seemed to think of something, rubbing her chin in thought.

“Wait, it’s not just men. Women are similar, also wanting to possess more partners. Take my so-called sisters, for instance—they often attend those repulsive balls and keep male pets. Maybe that’s just greed and lust. But it’s probably a minority; most of the women I know are more inclined toward monogamy.”

“By the way, don’t they find it dirty? Especially those balls—I’ve heard even two men together…”

Roy’s look of helplessness deepened. This princess was uninhibited both in behavior and speech. Anyone with a bit of experience knew about the debauchery among the nobles, but it was a tacitly accepted fact. Let the lords have their fun, so long as it didn’t affect them.

“Your Highness, what are your plans next? Should we return to the Abyss directly?” Roy changed the subject.

Leaning back, Irene gazed at the ceiling. “The old man seems to be in good shape for now, so he won’t die anytime soon. Once those rats hiding in the shadows are dealt with, I’ll head back to the entrance to the Abyss. Only there can I satisfy my desires and face enough pressure.”

When they arrived today, they’d paid a courtesy visit to the King of Dawn and found his complexion remarkably healthy; during the half-hour meeting, he coughed only once.

If this had happened before, they’d have suspected sorcery. The king’s body was already ruined—forced into the rank of third-tier Grand Knight by sheer resources, his foundation was broken.

Death was imminent, and not even the Sword of Dawn could save him. Or rather, if not for the Sword of Dawn, the king’s wanton lifestyle in his youth would have killed him long ago.

Supernaturals were stronger than ordinary people, but hardly gods. With endless debauchery and harmful indulgences, death was inevitable.

Even his recent change of heart came too late. But now, the king’s illness seemed to miraculously improve, and it was impossible not to think of those mysterious black-haired people.

“President Roy, what is the Guild planning? How will you deal with those mysterious black-haired individuals?” Irene asked.

Roy smiled. “The Guild will carry on as usual. As long as it isn’t dirty work, we’ll take anyone’s commission. We’re just here to make money.”

At that moment, the large brown doors with ornate carvings swung open. A black-haired man in a fitted suit strode in, followed by two identical maids and several other black-haired people in green uniforms.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Qin Le said with a polite smile, walking to the table.

Roy quickly stood. “We arrived too early. It’s us who should apologize for disturbing your morning, Your Grace.”

After a round of empty pleasantries, both sides sat down, exchanging insincere smiles.

Irene could barely stifle her yawns—she was clearly not suited for this sort of occasion.

Qin Le had no intention of wasting time. He got straight to the point. “President Roy, I’m not one for beating around the bush. Let’s be frank. Fanatics like cultists, who exist only to destroy, are loathed by the Xuan Code.”

If the other side hadn’t insisted on meeting personally, Qin Le would have left this to the professionals, such as the delegation outside the palace. Unfortunately, the social structure of this world was nothing like the modern era, where national credibility could serve as a guarantee.

Most organizations in the new world were loose and lacked unified will. Kings and lords, lords among themselves, the Hunter’s Guild and its regional branches—all operated independently.

As a result, in political dealings, people trusted the personal credibility of those in power rather than collective credibility—even at the highest levels. In their eyes, Qin Le was the supreme representative of the Xuan Code. Even if he wasn’t, he held real authority.

His words carried weight and credibility.

Roy was momentarily taken aback, not expecting the Grand Duke of the Eastern Realm to be so direct, skipping all the usual formalities. His style was much like the rebellious princess beside him—utterly lacking the elegance and etiquette of the nobility.

Still, Roy was a man of the world and quickly composed himself. He smiled, “Cults are the eternal enemies of all orderly races. As a neutral organization that maintains order, the Hunter’s Guild has a duty to eradicate them.”

In an instant, both sides reached a consensus.

Previously, Roy had harbored doubts about the string of bizarre events in the city. But the attack last night was a brutal wake-up call. If not for the quick response of the advanced human and royal knights, who swiftly cleansed the slums of most ghouls, the Hunter’s Guild might have been wiped out—and Roy would no longer be president.

“Your Grace, can you now share information on the cultists?” Roy asked.

It had all begun when the knight order went mad searching the sewers, clashing with some unknown enemy. Clearly, the king and these mysterious black-haired people had already discovered the cultists, investigated, and even tracked them down.

“Of course,” Qin Le nodded. At that, Fishhead stepped forward and placed a dossier on the table, sliding it to Roy.

Roy picked up the strange green clipboard and leafed through the snowy white pages filled with common tongue script.

He ran his fingers over the flawless, silky paper, marveling at the exquisite craftsmanship required to produce something so beautiful.

After savoring the pure white sheets for a moment, Roy turned his attention to the contents.

Princess Orlina’s assassination attempt… black insects found in the hearts of all the killers…

Green Demon Catastrophe—the Green Demons summoning infernal fiends… After a second excavation of the Green Demon lair ruins, a chamber was found intact deep within, with no corpses, suggesting the Green Demon King may still live.

Xuan Code detected an unidentified enemy curse and urgently severed contact with the inner world…

A spate of unusual hangings in the capital’s slums, more than half on a single withered tree, which later turned out to be a corpse locust in disguise…

Black-market human meat trade in the sewers, with evidence pointing to involvement by palace officials.

Frequent discoveries of gnawed corpses in the sewers.

Three years ago, according to royal records, famine in the slums led to cannibalism. But investigation revealed that Princess Orlina’s relief efforts at the time provided for basic survival.

A year ago, a massacre in the eastern district…

Strange fires, headless corpses, underground torture chambers in noble estates…

Roy’s expression shifted from surprise to grave concern, then to a chill running down his spine.

Taken individually, these incidents might have been seen as little more than the kingdom’s dark underbelly—poverty, hunger, vendettas, the amusements of certain nobles. Disturbing but not unprecedented.

But strung together, they painted the perfect cover for a cult’s hidden plot.

And the Crown Prince’s behavior was clearly suspicious. Why, during yesterday’s attacks, were all the great nobles targeted except him? Why did all the royal children flee to the palace for safety, while he alone remained in his residence?

And the nobles—why did they always cover up or protect suspected cultist activity? What exactly were they up to?