Chapter 319: The Players Attack! (2/2)

In other words, even if one particular swampman proved extraordinarily lucky and managed to kill a church priest with considerable ability and take his place, he would still fail to replicate his victim, sacred arts, and certainly couldn’t touch the holy water that church used. Considering that combat aura and magic were products with inextricable relationship to belief (faith in either the God of War or Magic Violet was necessary), it was no different if the swampman chose to imitate a warrior or a mage—the only thing that changed is appearance, and abilities simply couldn’t be replicated.

Either way, it was difficult for them to kill a noble and take their place right beneath the noses of such bodyguards. That was why Strom decided to take a detour and have the swampmen replace some peasants, who would in turn get themselves employed as servants or gardeners who could get close to the nobles before killing and replacing them.

After all, there was no way the bodyguards would stay at the nobles’ side twenty-four seven.

However, that plan had now hit a snag halfway through it was just days after the swampmen were deployed, and now some unknown church was nosing around in Crookes.

Strom was going to be in trouble if he got caught.

“They’re not from the Temple of Justice, are they?” He asked uncomfortably at the thought.

If there was anyone whom he feared most because of his dirty deeds, it would be those believers from the Temple of Justice. Fearless against death all in the name of perpetuating righteousness, those nutjobs were so radical they once put together a group of around thirty people to infiltrate a royal castle just to stop a senseless war, even assassinating the tyrant in the name of justice.

One could tell from that alone how mad those nutjobs could be—anyone ending up on the Temple of Justice’s naughty list won’t be safe even if they hid at the ends of the earth.

Even the black-robed man appeared wary about the Temple of Justice as well. Nonetheless, he answered. “No, they don’t have the light of Justice. They wouldn’t be believers of Aslan, the Lion of Justice.”

Strom was certainly slightly relieved that it wasn’t the Temple of Justice.

“Well, did those people manage to find anything out yet?” He then asked. “How are they investigating the matter anyway?” “They… The moment they entered the city, they would knock on every door they reach and asked the people inside ‘Are you a swampman’.”

The mouth of the black-robed man twitched even as he struggled to maintain the mysterious air surrounding him, while Strom was absolutely confused.

How was that a covert investigation?

Sata?

Could those people be idiots?

Were the swampmen supposed to admit that they were swampmen? Sure, the swampmen were slightly less smart than your average human since Strom himself had checked them once he received them. That being said, impersonation was carved into their very bones and instincts, and it was actually very difficult to expose them.

The glitch where missing hair could expose a swampman that Strom missed the first time had been compensated for as well—now, the swampmen would scalp their victims and wear it over their heads after killing their victims. Hair identification no longer worked! Strom became relieved at the thought.

He expected to find a male lion on his doorstep, only to realize that it was a harmless groundhog… guess it was a false alarm.

“Don’t get too comfortable yet. There is no telling what arts they were using, but after each questioning it would only go either one or two ways: one, they leave while cursing, saying things like ‘yellow, still yellow’ or ‘no, we can’t get yellow’… but if the one they questioned is a swampman, they would start shouting ‘Red! It’s red!” and start cutting them down to pieces.”

The black-robed man’s words left Strom’s heart strung up once more. “As more swampman were exposed, magistrate Lloyd ordered the city watch support their search. A tenth of the swampmen I had given you are now dead-feel it through the trinket that controls them if you don’t believe me.”

Strom hence quickly drew out an object resembling an abacus, and he paled after some clicking and clacking.

The black-robed man’s information was actually outdated: he had actually lost contact a fifth of the swampmen.Strom certainly didn’t expect magistrate Lloyd to help those believers who came out of nowhere, although that made sense if he thought about it-before this, Lloyd had been left frustrated with the various murders that the swampmen committed which in turned called his authority and competence into question. Now that someone suddenly popped up to help solve the whole issue, there was no way he would have a brain fart… he naturally would work with them.

If this continues, every swampman other than the ones who had replaced nobles would be wiped out! Damn it! Were those idiots really that threatening?

Strom was now beside himself in panic.

It was like facing what was supposed to be a scared groundhog, only to have it suddenly cry out ‘Aaaaaaaaaaaa—!” and then burst into a Super Saiyan Groundhog as it rushed toward him.

How was Strom supposed to survive that?

“My lord, save me!” He immediately licked the black-robed man’s boots.

“We can provide you another product of our research, and that’s it.” The black-robed man replied mysteriously as if he did not hear Strom. “Only you can save yourself. Think of it as a trial…”

“After all, the Secret Eye Society wouldn’t keep trash even if we do raise bootlickers.”