Honkai Summoning.

But who were those people who died before? Slaves, the poor wretches of the lower city, reckless gang members—these people were as insignificant as ants in the City of Thorns.

But this time, however, it was three nobles who died on the same day, in the same way, with their heads completely exploding, in full view of everyone. The shockwaves they caused were even greater than those caused by the Marquis of Monroe's death the day before.

Without even needing to go out and inquire, Director Wilfred could already imagine the ridiculous rumors circulating about him, like some kind of "headshot maniac."

"Where's Gary! Where have those two bastards gone? It's been a whole day! Can't those two idiots even handle something this simple?" Wilfred roared, slamming his fist on the table.

To put it bluntly, Gary and his partner were among Wilfred's most capable henchmen, whether in investigating cases, making arrests, or doing other things.

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Scapegoat

“They went to the Worbs family estate this morning…” someone replied.

Wilfred continued to roar, "I know that, the orders came through me, the problem is, where are those two bastards right now! Don't they realize we're going to be busy?"

Although Wilfred appeared extremely angry, these roars were one of his ways of concealing his true feelings.

His inner thoughts weren't as exaggerated as they appeared on the surface; instead, he was wondering why Gary and the others hadn't returned yet.

Although Gary and his partner were somewhat arrogant, and sometimes even he, their boss, would argue with them, neither of them knew their own limitations.

The rumors about the "headshot maniac" are now spreading like wildfire throughout the capital, so there's no reason for them not to show up.

“Go, send two people to look for him. Yes, to Worbus Estate. And, show some respect to that young master,” Wilfred said.

The two sheriffs received their orders and left the police station, heading towards the Worbus Estate.

When they arrived at Worbus Estate, they were not given any difficulties and easily entered the drawing room.

However, it wasn't Tranton who greeted them, but Su Mo, who had already returned.

Su Mo cooperated fully with the two sheriffs' inquiries, clearly stating that the two sheriffs had indeed visited the manor that morning.

"So, they left the manor after that?" one of the sheriffs asked, looking at Su Mo.

Another sheriff was also staring intently at Su Mo, seemingly trying to find any trace of lying in his expression.

“Yes.” Su Mo nodded. “What, haven’t they gone back yet? This is really… people these days. I need to consider reducing some of the donations from the Wobbs family. Young Master probably doesn’t want his money to be squandered by a bunch of parasites.”

"Cough cough."

A sheriff coughed twice, pretending not to hear Su Mo's words, "So, does anyone know where Gary and the others went?"

"I don't know." Su Mo smiled.

"Okay, thank you for your cooperation. We will come again if there are any issues."

"I think you won't have time to come back. These tragic things have happened in the capital, and you're here interrogating my steward," Tranton said in a somber tone as he entered.

"Excuse me."

The two sheriffs, who had been entrusted with the task by Wilfred, made no attempt to provoke Tranton and hurriedly left after bowing.

Looking out the window as the two left the manor, Tranton finally asked, "Starting to suspect you?"

“The people are missing. If it weren’t for the unfortunate accidental deaths of three nobles, they would have arrived sooner,” Su Mo said casually.

"Humph."

Tranton gave a cold laugh.

The two sheriffs walked out of the manor, and one of them immediately turned grim, saying, "That bastard didn't tell a single truth!"

“Perhaps there’s something else… like Gary and the others came this morning,” another said somewhat helplessly.

After all, they were dealing with a marquis's family, so they couldn't just turn the house upside down and investigate it like they would with commoners.

And the surrounding area—near this haunted, dilapidated manor—is now completely deserted! You can't even find anyone to ask questions.

Of course, if the police department is willing to spend a lot of effort to conduct a thorough and detailed investigation, it is very likely that they will find some clues.

After all, Su Mo didn't intend to completely erase all clues.

But where would the police department find the energy and manpower? The deaths of the Marquis of Monroe and three other nobles would keep them busy for a long time.

Please, let's leave these power struggles among the nobility alone.

However, Wilfred never expected that the deaths of these three nobles were just the beginning.

For the next three days, several people each day had their heads suddenly explode, headless corpses falling to the ground, whether at home or on the street, in full view of everyone.

If the world had any concept of resignation for misconduct, Wilfred would have stepped down long ago. Even so, Henry XI summoned him to the palace and gave him a severe dressing-down.

Henry XI ordered him to find the murderer within three days, no matter who the murderer was.

“A scapegoat…” Wilfred sat in his chair, muttering to himself. Henry XI’s last words were quite profound.

As the master of the empire, his greatest desire was naturally stability, even if the empire appeared stagnant and lifeless. For a ruler, "vitality" tinged with chaos and instability was best kept as far away as possible.

For Henry XI, it didn't matter who the murderer was or how those people died; what mattered was finding a "murderer" of sufficient stature to quell the current chaos.

As Henry XI's loyal henchman, Wilfred understood his meaning perfectly.

However, finding a scapegoat won't be easy... Just randomly picking someone and declaring them the murderer would be unbelievable. People aren't stupid; doing so would only turn the growing fear into anger at the police department's incompetence, and Wilfred wouldn't be foolish enough to shoot himself in the foot.

This person can't be too powerful, otherwise the police will be helpless against him. He also can't be too weak, otherwise the common people will be too nervous, fearing that the next one to be "shot in the head" will be their own nobleman, and they won't believe it.

"Director..."

At that moment, someone gently knocked on the door and entered the room.

"Any discoveries?" Wilfred asked, looking up.

"This thing..." The sheriff who came in was holding a box, which he placed on the table in front of Wilfred and opened.

"What is this?" Wilfred looked at the small object in front of him that looked somewhat like gold, reached out his hand, and felt a cold sensation coming from his fingertips.

"Apart from the Marquis of Monroe, this item was later found at other crime scenes as well, still stained with blood. However, it has been cleaned up," the sheriff said. This world doesn't use techniques like bloodstain DNA to solve cases.

Touching the cold, deformed bullet, Wilfred frowned in thought.

“Oh, right, there’s one more thing,” the sheriff said.

“Speak,” Wilfred said, waving his hand dismissively.

“We’ve done a little investigation into Gary, and they haven’t been seen since they entered the estate that day,” the sheriff said.

“The Worbus family?” Wilfred opened the drawer next to him and took out a list of people who had died in the past few days.

After staring at it for a long time, Wilfred suddenly sneered, threw the list on the table, and said, "Take a look at this list."

The sheriff picked up the list and looked at it for a while, but couldn't understand it.

At this moment, Wilfred slowly said, "There are some things you may not know. But I know very well that these people have some grudges with the Worbs family."

The sheriff was stunned for a moment, cursing inwardly, but outwardly showing an expression of admiration.

"Looks like I'll have to make another trip." After enjoying the feeling of being respected, Wilfred stood up, walked out of the police station, and got into a luxurious carriage.

He already had a plan in mind regarding who his scapegoat would be. Henry XI would likely be quite satisfied with that scapegoat.

Tranton, the son of the Marquis, is a missing person who has just inherited the title. He is the weakest of all the marquises, but not so weak that the commoners doubt his ability to do those things.

In addition, these events basically occurred after Tranton returned, and he was accompanied by some strange, unfamiliar faces.

Thinking this over and over, Wilfred suddenly slapped his thigh and couldn't help but mutter, "I thought it was a scapegoat! But now that I think about it, it was that brat who did all this!"

It must be said that Wilfred is quite capable to be able to sit in the position of police chief. At least his basic logical reasoning ability is not a problem, and he quickly deduced the truth of the matter.

"It's a pity there's no evidence, and we don't know how that kid did it, but what does it matter?" Wilfred smiled.

He's been in that position for almost ten years; wouldn't it be easy for him to fabricate one or two pieces of evidence? Besides, the true ruler of this empire is still the royal family, Henry XI; legal evidence is meaningless to him.

If Henry XI so desired, even knowing that Trandon was innocent, the little fellow would not escape being made a scapegoat.

Moreover, this kid is the prime suspect and the most suitable candidate.

"After this is over, I should leave and get a higher title to enjoy myself." Wilfred leaned back in his soft chair. Although he had a lot of real power, his status was not high.

Having only an honorary title makes things easier for him.

Given his position, Henry XI couldn't possibly grant him any high-ranking noble titles. However, once he left, Wilfred felt that Henry XI wouldn't mistreat his loyal dog.

Just as they were immersed in the wonderful fantasy of "retirement life", the carriage, which had been moving smoothly, swayed.

Wilfred said somewhat angrily, "You'd better watch out!"

The coachman didn't respond, but the carriage had regained its smoothness, and Wilfred didn't mind. There was still some time before reaching the palace, and only a sliver of sunlight pierced through the thick curtains, making the interior somewhat dim. Wilfred simply closed his eyes and began to rest.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he was awakened by a knock on the car door. He groggily opened his eyes, opened the car door and got out, saying as he walked, "It took so long."

Chapter Thirty-Four: Don't be nervous, it's me.

After saying that, Wilfred suddenly realized that something was wrong.

He usually takes a nap, but he only sleeps for about half an hour before being woken up. Sleeping for too long makes Wilfred feel dizzy, lightheaded, and tired; he even feels it's better not to sleep at all.

Now Wilfred felt dizzy and very tired, which meant that he had definitely slept for more than half an hour.

However, it only takes half an hour to get from the police station to the palace, even if you are a little slow.

"It's so dark..."

Realizing something was wrong, Wilfred shook his head vigorously to clear his mind, only to find that the sky had already darkened, the sun had already set in the west, and not a trace of its afterglow remained in the City of Thorns.

Not far in front of him stood a man dressed in black.

"who are you?"

With just a casual glance, Wilfred was certain that the man in front of him, whose face he hadn't even had a chance to see clearly, was definitely not his coachman. Wilfred knew his coachman very well; he was definitely not as tall as the man in front of him—and of course, he wasn't currently outside the palace.

As he questioned him, Wilfred took a small step back, one hand reaching behind his waist and the other reaching into the still-open carriage—beside the door lay a dark longsword.

His question was less about inquiring about the man's identity and more about distracting him to buy himself some time.

Given this situation, Wilfred could easily understand that he had encountered something he never thought he would ever experience in his life—kidnapping.

The dignified Sheriff of Thorn City, the head of all sheriffs in the entire empire—Wilford—has been kidnapped?

If I said that, probably no one would believe me.

However, the absurdity of it all happened to him, leaving Wilfred no choice but to believe it and to make the most decisive and correct response.

As the last "who" was uttered, Wilfred had already gripped the flintlock pistol at his waist with one hand and the hilt of his sword with the other, ready to strike in a second.