Our Family Has Fallen

Andor said this with a laugh, but his slightly narrowed eyes held a greedy gleam; his attention was clearly elsewhere.

”What does that mean?” the Rich Merchant could no longer restrain himself and asked.

”An interesting little mouse.” Andor snapped back to reality, his eerie smile softening. ”Don’t worry. Every action leaves a trace. I will certainly help you find him.”

The Rich Merchant breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing this, but the next second Andor made another request.

”I need to go back and prepare some things. Tonight, I want all of you to leave this house. By tomorrow morning, I will give you an answer,” he said, scanning the room. He smiled at the maid and added, ”Just leave her behind to help.”

The Rich Merchant, though puzzled, nodded in agreement.

The maid had not expected to be the one left behind. Was she going to spend the night alone with Mr. Andor? She needed to perform well, for if she caught his eye, that would be...

Thinking of this, a sweet smile couldn’t help but spread across her face.

As night fell, many more personnel were deployed to the residential area, effectively sealing it off. Anyone trying to enter or leave had to verify their identity. This measure irked even those who hadn’t been robbed, breeding resentment.

Outside one of the houses, an oddly shaped carriage stopped at the front door.

A few people alighted from it: the police chief, an old policeman, and the Bald Sorcerer and his apprentice.

”I went to great lengths to borrow this house, so I hope the Master can find the culprit!” the police chief couldn’t help but urge.

This was the property of a victim. The Wizard had requested to be at the scene. The police chief had visited the Rich Merchant and pleaded for a long time to borrow it for one night, all to identify the culprit.

But the Bald Sorcerer didn’t care about that, barging in with his apprentice.

Seeing this, the police chief had no choice but to follow quickly; he couldn’t afford to offend anyone now.

What a plight.

The police outside also noticed the goings-on but had no intention of intervening. They knew their place, understanding that sometimes knowing too much could be troublesome, so they just focused on their own duties.

Once inside the house, the Bald Sorcerer looked around and couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. It’s hard to get anything done without a corpse.

He didn’t feel much about the environment inside the house and, not needing to deduce anything, simply sat down at the table in the hall.

”Catherine.”

With a call, his assistant cleared the vases and teacups from the table and took out strange items from a package to place on the tabletop.

Before one could scrutinize them, the Wizard’s voice pulled the police chief’s attention.

”Are you asking where those treasures are now, or do you want to find the Thief?”

”Can’t we ask both?”

”That’s two questions, each with a separate price.”

”Find the person.” The police chief and the old policeman exchanged glances and replied with little hesitation.

If the money is found but not the Thief, I’ll still take the blame. But if we find the person, I have a hundred ways to make him talk. Then we’ll naturally find out where the money is.

”How does the Master plan to find him?” The Bald Sorcerer fiddled with the items on the table. His perplexing actions made the police chief grow suspicious.

”I have my own methods. It would be much simpler if someone had died,” the Bald Sorcerer said disdainfully, his words revealing his disregard for life.

A skull was laid out on the table, marked with strange paint and incomprehensible patterns and lines, all set upon the cleared tabletop.

The Wizard placed his hand on top of the skull, chanting under his breath, while his other hand was doing something unseen under the table.

Divination, prophecy, retrospection—these Arts, which attempt to peer into the past and future, are not powers humans can control. They can only be performed with the help of special artifacts or by borrowing power from higher beings.

Even then, only someone highly skilled would dare try, as the backlash is not something an ordinary person could bear.

Yet, this was not what the Wizard cared about; the skull in his hand was no ordinary object.

In life, it had belonged to a powerful Wizard. However, this Bald Sorcerer had been more skillful, killed him, and directly refined his corpse—also a Spiritual Material—into several pieces of Extraordinary Equipment.

This skull could enhance his own inspiration, make communication with Spiritual Essence easier, and also protect his own Spiritual Essence.

A Transcendent’s strength mostly came from their equipment. He wouldn’t sell such a treasure, even for a million Gold Coins.

Using equipment to perform an Art should go smoothly. Shouldn’t finding the location of a petty Thief be a walk in the park? But why do I feel something is amiss?

Moved by the cautious instinct of a Transcendent, the Bald Sorcerer raised his hand and stopped the ritual.

”How goes it, Master?” The police chief stepped forward to ask anxiously, only to see the Wizard wave his hand.

Seeing the Bald Sorcerer’s tightly furrowed brow, the police chief also grew restless. He feared a problem but dared not speak, just grumbling inwardly.

The Wizard paid no mind to the police chief’s reaction. Outsiders wouldn’t understand, anyway. Just now, when I performed the Clairvoyance Art to probe, it felt like something was obscuring it. Could it be a fellow practitioner? But then I reconsidered. No, that wasn’t right. If it were a fellow Transcendent, especially one who knew how to hide themselves, they wouldn’t commit a crime for such a paltry sum. Any Transcendent with even a little power wouldn’t lack money. They don’t operate within the same system; Gold Coins hold little value in the eyes of a Transcendent because truly precious things aren’t measured in Gold Coins. The only things of true value are Spiritual Crystals and Spiritual Materials.