Just as Ethan stepped out of the teleportation array, a Spirit Bone Guard dozing against a bone pillar nearby raised its head.
“Lord Ethan,” the Spirit Bone Guard spoke. “Dean Blood Fury is looking for you. He ordered you to go see him as soon as possible.”
Ethan nodded, retrieved a magic stone from his ring, and tossed it over.
The Spirit Bone Guard snatched it with its bony hand, stuffing the magic stone into a gap in its ribs. The flickering of its soul fire visibly quickened. “Thank you, Lord.”
Just then, the sound of rushing air echoed from not far away.
The sound was deep, as if something massive were tearing through the air.
Ethan turned his head and saw an entirely pitch-black platform descending from the distant sky.
The edges of the platform were carved with dense runic patterns, and dark red energy flames surged from its base, heating the surrounding air into visible thermal waves.
The platform descended at extreme speed onto an open stone clearing not far from the teleportation area. The moment it touched down, the stone slab ground shuddered, sending a shockwave rippling outward that kicked up a ring of grayish-white stone dust.
Carved onto the platform were two blood-red, man-sized characters: Deathmatch.
The Life-and-Death Stage had barely landed before a crowd gathered around it, pointing and whispering at the stage.
A few apprentices standing close by were discussing something in hushed tones. Though their voices were low, the excitement on their faces was impossible to hide.
Ethan withdrew his gaze.
“Oh, quite lively.”
He merely made a casual remark, then turned around and walked down the teleportation platform.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Come in.”
Ethan pushed the door open.
The concentration of energy particles in the office was significantly higher than outside, with faint, dark red motes of light slowly drifting through the air.
Blood Fury sat behind a stone desk with several documents spread before him, his right hand holding a quill and his left hand propping himself up on the desk.
The expression on his square face was no different from usual; his thick brows were tightly knit, and his crimson eyes stared at the documents as if reviewing some critical military affair.
“Dean, I'm here,” Ethan said.
Just as Ethan finished speaking, his nostrils twitched slightly.
There was a smell of blood on Blood Fury.
The scorched scent of blood burned by energy, mixed with a certain indescribable metallic sweetness, was suppressed by the dense energy particles in the office, yet a trace of it still leaked through.
“Hmm? Dean, are you injured?”
Blood Fury's hand holding the quill paused.
The expression on his square face stiffened for a visible instant.
His thick brows twitched, the corner of his mouth spasmed, and his crimson eyes darted around as if searching for the right words.
Then, he cleared his throat.
“Cough, cough, it's nothing.”
Ethan's eyebrows shot up. He took a step forward, scanning Blood Fury from head to toe. “Really? You don't look like you're fine.”
Blood Fury set down his quill, leaned back against his chair, and crossed his arms. The action looked casual, but Ethan noticed that he was half a beat slow when leaning back. His shoulder rubbed against the chair back before finding a suitable angle, as if he were avoiding putting pressure on a certain spot.
“Cough, I said it's nothing, so it's nothing.” Blood Fury waved his hand, which immediately fell back onto the armrest. “Alright, let's get down to business.”
“Please, go ahead.”
“Didn't you send a message reporting that you were attacked in your family domain?” Blood Fury leaned forward slightly. “We found the one who leaked the information.”
Ethan's gaze instantly sharpened.
The casualness and concern in his eyes vanished, replaced by a bone-chilling sharpness.
His pupils contracted slightly, and the surrounding air seemed to drop a few degrees.
“Who?”
Even though Blood Fury was a powerhouse among Second-Tier Wizards, he was still startled by this gaze.
He had seen Ethan's cheeky, smiling face when swindling Boulder in the altar; he had seen Ethan's properly respectful behavior in the academy; and he had seen Ethan's decisive ruthlessness during missions.
As a Second-Tier Wizard and a battle maniac of the Flesh Modification branch, he had torn apart at least a five-figure number of enemies on the battlefield. Yet, stared at by a First-Tier Wizard of his own academy, he actually felt a slight chill run down his spine.
Blood Fury cleared his throat. “Losde from the Logistics Department.”
Ethan's brow furrowed.
The Logistics Department?
He quickly scanned his memory for everyone he had interacted with in the Logistics Department.
Old Wright was one, the staff at the exchange windows were a few, and the round-faced woman who handled his certifications was another.
But he had absolutely no impression of the name Losde.
But it didn't matter anymore.
“The Logistics Department?” Ethan's voice grew cold. “Was he bribed, or is he a spy?”
Blood Fury leaned back, a subtle glint flashing in his crimson eyes. An indescribable expression appeared on his square face—looking like he was constipated, had a toothache, and had a whole lemon stuffed into his mouth all at once.
“Neither.”
“Neither?” Ethan's brow furrowed even deeper.
Blood Fury did not answer directly. He reached out to pick up the cup on the table and took a sip. His movements were extremely slow, so slow that Ethan could tell he didn't actually want a drink; he was just using it to stall.
Blood Fury set down the cup, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Uh, do you remember the Human-Faced Wolf mission?”
“The Human-Faced Wolves?” Ethan thought for a moment. “Oh, I remember. What about it?”
“Wasn't your squad left with only you surviving?”
Ethan nodded. Of course he remembered that. It was his first mission. The intelligence had been wrong, and the hundred-odd wolves had turned into over four hundred. After fighting off the wolf pack, they were ambushed by people from the Lost Forest Academy. His four teammates had all died, and he was the only one who made it back alive.
“Yes. What does that have to do with this?”
“Do you remember Raymond?”
“Yes,” Ethan nodded. “Is it related to him?”
Blood Fury fell silent.
The constipated expression on his square face deepened. His lips parted slightly, then closed again. Resting his right hand on the desk, his fingers tapped unconsciously a couple of times before stopping. His crimson eyes darted around the room, looking at the desk, the ceiling, the walls—anywhere but at Ethan.
Seeing him like this, Ethan actually grew quite intrigued.
“Dean, out with it.”
Blood Fury took a deep breath, set down his cup, and folded his hands on the desk.
“That Raymond has a younger sister named Sethna.”
“???”
“Sethna's talent is decent.”
“???”
“And then she found a mentor.”
Ethan stared at Blood Fury's face, waiting for him to continue.
But Blood Fury fell silent again. His fingers tapped the desk twice, his lips parted, and then he closed his mouth once more.
“???” Ethan took half a step forward. “Dean, why are you beating around the bush? Can't you just spit it out in one go?”
The corner of Blood Fury's mouth twitched violently.
Embarrassment, exasperation, and awkwardness flashed across his square face in rapid succession.
He took a deep breath, as if making a monumental decision, and squeezed the words out from between his teeth.
“Sethna's mentor is Losde from the Logistics Department. She blamed Raymond's death entirely on you, believing that since you were the only survivor, it had to be your fault. So, she has been constantly whispering poison in Losde's ear in bed, turning him against you.”
Ethan's eyebrows shot up.
“In bed?”
Rate on N.U.
