Chapter 150 - A Mediated Invitation (1/2)

As the sun set, the afterglow dyed the entire city blood-red.

The beggar army began to clean the streets of corpses. They didn’t mind the dirtiness or weariness, and they moved all the bodies outside the city.

And they also had people spread the news in the city that they hoped the families of the deceased would come to claim the bodies, and if no one claimed them, they would bury them all and erect a nameless monument.

Although the news spread, a large number of soldiers were buried by nightfall, and not many people came to claim the bodies.

This was quite normal. Now that the city of Delpon was changing its ruling banner, everyone understood that the mayor’s family was considered finished, and it was up to the Golden Sons to decide whether they should live or die.

In this situation of uncertainty, who dared to rashly meet with the Golden Sons, who took hold of authority—what if this was a trap?

The bright moonlight shone on the castle.

John Senior’s two severed body parts were being pieced together, and several dieners were carefully mending them.

The mayor’s wife sat with a spiritless look and watched the silver moon in the sky, thoughtful.

Her youngest daughter, on the other hand, was sobbing off to the side, her voice low and suppressed, not daring to make any noise.

After all, there were a dozen or so beggar soldiers watching over them.

In addition, Jett the priest was there pretending to sleep.

John Junior looked at his father’s corpse, and then at the full moon in the sky. The clear, cold moonlight emanated an inexplicable chill, and he couldn’t help but clasp his hands to his chest and tighten his body.

Until now, he was still a little confused, and even felt as if he was in a dream.

In less than a day, he had become a prisoner, and in his eyes, his incomparably powerful father had also died.

It didn’t feel real at all.

He truly wished it was a nightmare.

It was almost dawn, and the mayor’s wife was sitting in her chair, seemingly showing signs of falling asleep. Her husband’s corpse was being st.i.tched up just a short distance away, yet she was able to sleep, which was a skill in itself.

The youngest daughter had stopped crying, as if she had cried enough, and her voice had become hoa.r.s.e.

John Junior got up, walked over to Jett who was pretending to sleep, and said, “It’s about time we got an answer as to how we’re going to be dealt with.”

After he said this, he discovered that his voice was quite hoa.r.s.e.

Jett opened his eyes and said indifferently, “There’s no need to rush. As long as you guys don’t cause any trouble, you won’t die—wait until Roland and the others finish discussing.”

Roland, at this time, was deriving magic models in the Magic Tower.

He had already gotten a feel for the Spell Puppet used for scouting.

First of all, mobility had to be ensured, then the size had to be small—the smaller something was, the more suitable it was for scouting purposes and the less likely it was to be discovered. Then, there was perception distance: without good vision, it was not possible to talk about scouting purposes.

Then, there was the environment and terrain adaptability.

It had to be able to climb mountains and go into water at least, and as for flying… Roland couldn’t even figure out the principles of magic flight at the moment, so it was skipped for now.

Then according to these requirements, Roland created the puppet, but when Roland watched the fist-sized, one-eyed magic “spider” crawl around the lab at an extremely high speed, he felt that something was wrong.

Watching and thinking for a while, he realized that it was still too conspicuous.

A fist-sized spider that was also light yellow—this thing was indeed conspicuous.

How could the presence of this thing be reduced… Making it smaller was the most effective way, but the problem was that Roland’s model had already minimized the size of this Spell Puppet—it couldn’t get any smaller.