Baator Hell Promotion

Igor was still dressed the same as last night, though thankfully he'd changed out of his blood-soaked windbreaker. The Inquisitor's hawk-like eyes scanned the small shop, confirming no one else was there before he relaxed and greeted them.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Hopper. It seems you anticipated my arrival."

"I believe you are a man of decisiveness and swift action, Mr. Inquisitor," the demon complimented. "Incidentally, so am I. However, I am indeed concerned, after all, Lord Westerling has just declared martial law."

With his yellow teeth, tangled black hair, and dark eyes, Inquisitor Igor looked like a hyena poised for a pounce. He smiled and said, "Lord Westerling's martial law only applies to civilians, not an Inquisitor."

Wow, another thing that martial law can’t control.

Then he pulled a small test tube from his trench coat pocket, pushed it toward Hopper, and said, "Take a look, Ms. Hopper. You'll like it."

Hopper picked it up, and the silver liquid in the test tube trembled slightly, as if it had its own consciousness, casting rainbow-like light all around.

"What is this? Your Honorable Inquisitor?"

"God's blood," the Inquisitor said briefly, "or rather, imitation God's blood."

This time, Hopper was truly shocked. The Inquisitors were all fanatical followers of the Blood Father. She knew they had a ritual that imitated the Blood Father's killing of the God of Change, but she hadn't expected them to even imitate the divine blood that the Blood Father drank.

The Inquisitor knocked on the table, bringing Hopper, who was in a trance, back to reality. "I don't know what you are. Hag, reaper, or yugoloth, it makes no difference to me. I pay you, and you serve me. It's that simple. So, will you take this job?"

Hopper looked at the divine blood in his hand. The imitation divine blood was of course far different from the real divine blood, but it was still extremely precious.

She calmed herself down, took the Inquisitor's outstretched hand, and smiled.

"Thank you for your generosity. Please take a seat and let's discuss the details of the business."

Author's words: Thank you for your rewards, monthly tickets and recommendations

Chapter 120 Clues

As we all know, Emerald Harbor is a bustling coastal city. The Surf District and Shade District are especially bustling with outsiders, and the nighttime activity is just as busy as the daytime, if not more so.

However, a declaration of martial law instantly shattered all the bustle and bustle. Hopper had never seen Emerald Harbor so quiet. Late at night, the shady district was dead silent, devoid of drinkers, prostitutes, and adventurers. The only living creatures to be seen were a few feral cats scurrying about in hunger, and patrolling night watchmen.

She pulled her cloak closer. Even on a warm summer day, the cloak she'd received from Lacy was cool and smooth. The cloak's magic was strange. It didn't render Hopper completely invisible, but rather allowed her to blend subtly into the shadows. Hopper had tested it and found that as long as she stayed away from obvious light sources, even if she passed by a night watchman, they wouldn't notice her covered by the cloak.

However, after entering the Starry Sky, she no longer dared to be so bold. The Night's Watchmen in the Shady District were only equipped with wooden whistles. If they truly encountered a dark elf, the most they could do was blow their whistles to warn others before their own deaths. Perhaps this was the purpose of the Night's Watchmen's existence—to sacrifice their lives to serve as a warning to those more noble.

But the patrols in the Twinkling District were quite different. A significant portion of them were private soldiers trained by prominent figures. The most elite, like the captain of the Westerling family's guard, even wore magically detectable artifacts. Hopper didn't want to foolishly run into them and cause unnecessary trouble.

Fortunately, she didn't need to go deep into the heart of the Twinkling Star District. The Kane family mansion was located right at the junction of the two districts. After Hopper easily climbed over the stone wall that seemed to be nothing, a dilapidated mansion covered in ivy and shrouded in darkness came into her sight.

Hopper gazed up at the house, and through the layers of leaves and vines, he could vaguely see its former glory. But now, with its closed doors and windows and broken roof, it looked like a terminally ill old man, showing its decay.

The demon sniffed the air, accurately found the unlocked back door, and walked in.

"I thought you would be late, Miss Hopper." In the sealed hall, only one candle was lit, and the faint candlelight illuminated the judge's thin horse face.

Hopper took off his hood and looked carefully at the Kane family's hall. The room was bare, without the family banners, exquisite statues, or precious furniture that were common in aristocratic homes. Even the carpet was gone, making it look particularly desolate.

"I'm here as promised. What do you need me to do?" Hopper asked.

The Inquisitor gestured towards the house, signaling to Hopper: "Let me briefly introduce myself. As you know, I came here after tracking down the garter that 'Sticky Fingers' Trisler Kane sold to the miser. Unfortunately, I was too late. I entered this house the night I met you, and there was no living thing inside at that time."

"Two bodies. Sticky Fingers was lying in the hall, and in a room upstairs was his housekeeper, who was over 70 years old. The manner of death was very similar: a slashed throat with a sharp weapon."

Hopper heard the suspicion and asked, "How deep is the cut?"

The judge gave her an approving look and said, "It's so deep that the entire head is connected only by the cervical vertebrae and shoulders. I believe you have guessed the reason for the murderer's actions?"

"Destroying the vocal cords to prevent others from gaining information through conversation with the remains" Hopper nodded and commented, "Very professional approach."

The Inquisitor threw up his hands, expressing his own complete lack of clues. "I've tracked this far, and all the leads have run out. Yesterday, I was planning to ask Lord Westerling in person to loan me a wizard, but then, as you know, that incident happened."

"But," he changed the subject, "I discovered something new after returning here today. Miss Hopper, can you feel it?"

Hopper closed her eyes. The air was filled with the smell of dust, mixed with a slight smell of blood. All around her was silent. This unusual silence, without even the sound of insects, reminded her.

She hurried to the fireplace and stirred the ashes, finding them filled with broken bones. She exhaled, realizing what the Inquisitor had discovered.

"This house is so clean that even the rats have been removed to prevent people from getting information by talking to the animals."

The Inquisitor clapped his hands softly, then shook his head. "You haven't observed carefully enough. There are bats, rats, bedbugs, and sparrows in that pile of ashes. But there's no one common creature—spider."

It was as if a bright light lit up in Hopper's mind. The spider was a sacred object of the patron saint of the dark elves. She seemed to see the scene last night, when the dark elf dancer beat the seductive tambourine, luring all nearby creatures that might reveal their whereabouts, and finally burning them.

"Wait, the Dark Elves were here last night, but Sticky Fingers was already dead, so his death had nothing to do with the Dark Elves." Hopper frowned. Why kill Sticky Fingers so long in advance? Unless...

She glanced at the Inquisitor, remembering the garter. After a moment, she said slowly, "So this is why you came to me? Do you think your target is related to mine?"

The Inquisitor nodded, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. He said wearily, "I've done my research, and Sticky Fingers's friends are quite friendly and honest. I just tried to reason with them, and they rushed to tell me about Sticky Fingers. It seems our poor Mr. Kane had a very pleasant romantic encounter before he lost his life."

"A businessman told me that Sticky Fingers confided in him that he had recently hooked up with a wealthy, naive, and beautiful woman. The woman was a devout believer who was willing to give Sticky Fingers everything if he would only show that he was willing to share her faith in her god."

The succubus touched her lips. This story sounded very familiar. If Sticky Fingers hadn't died the day she entered the city, she might even have thought the lady in the story was herself. After all, this was so consistent with the usual style of the lower creatures.

"I came in through the back door. The dust in there was very thick. It had obviously not been swept." She said slowly, sorting out her thoughts. "The murderer only cleaned the hall. What could be in the hall?"

She looked around the living room; it was too clean and too spacious. Aside from the fireplace embedded in the wall, there wasn't a single sign of life. She'd originally assumed the Kane family's prodigal son had sold all the furniture, but now that she thought about it, something felt off. After all, the kitchen still had cabinets. It seemed more like the hall had been deliberately vacated for other uses.

"It seems we have the same idea." The judge showed a smile on his gloomy face, and he was obviously quite satisfied with his collaborator.

He motioned Hopper to stay away, then pulled a bottle filled with clean water from his pocket. Even in the darkness, the bottle shimmered with tiny golden lights.

"Diluted holy water," he explained, then walked to the middle of the hall and splashed the holy water out.

At first, there was no change on the ground. After a long time, Hopper heard a slight sound, like water dripping on a red-hot iron block.

Where the holy water flowed, intermittent, blurred words and curves appeared on the polished gray stone slabs, and these traces were slowly disappearing under the effect of the holy water.

"Someone held a ceremony to worship the evil god here."

Chapter 121: Bad Habits of the Same Clan

"Evil God? I don't think so." Inquisitor Igor scratched his stubbled chin, his eyes calm. "Miss Hopper, there's no need to be so secretive. The followers of the evil god will be burned by the priests of the Eternal Day. The Blood Father is concerned about the followers of those false gods."

The succubus nodded. She was still a little uncomfortable with Igor's straightforward style. Devils were always used to beating around the bush.

But she knew Igor was right. The Inquisitor didn't even bother to care about a non-human like her. One or two followers of the evil god weren't worth the journey. The Blood Father and his Inquisitors targeted only those who were so audacious as to claim the name of God.

For example, the Demon Prince, the Grand Duke of the Nine Hells, and their followers.

"The pattern is too blurry, and the text is nothing special." Hopper circled the floor, examining it. One thing he could confirm was that this was indeed the remains of a ritual dedicated to some evil being. However, after being meticulously wiped and purified with holy water, there were almost no useful clues left. "Do you have any other leads?"

"I'm here for the three dwarf corpses. Someone performed a blood sacrifice to the Blood Father. Normally, the high priest of the City of Minced Meat wouldn't care about such blood sacrifices, but they sensed a hint of lewdness in the offerings."

Hopper raised an eyebrow, keenly aware of the problem. "Three dwarf corpses? You mentioned that the first time you came to my shop. But I haven't heard of any dwarf deaths recently."

Igor smiled, his sharp white teeth gleaming with metallic quality in the candlelight. He pointed out the window and said, "Because those three bodies were all found in the old lighthouse area, and when they were found, there wasn't a single piece of intact flesh on them."

The Devil suddenly realized that the Old Lighthouse District was named after the lighthouse on the mountainside that had stood since the founding of Emerald Harbor. However, its fame had long been overshadowed by another building - the Golden Dome Church of the Perfect Man.

In the eyes of the Perfect Man, besides humans, there are only two kinds of creatures in the world: obedient animals and disobedient animals. As the Archbishop of the Perfect Man, although he lacks noble status, Eichmann is the de facto ruler of the Old Lighthouse District. If the dwarf died in the Old Lighthouse District, the Archbishop and the nobles around him would probably just despise it as bad luck.

"Because the incident happened in the Old Lighthouse District, and I didn't want to challenge the Archbishop's sensitive nerves for the time being," Igor shrugged and continued, "So I had to find a way on my own. With the help of some sleeping incense and a shovel, I managed to meet with the three unfortunate people who died."

Hopper smacked his lips. No wonder the Inquisitor had a bad reputation. He talked about grave robbing as if it were as commonplace as buying a piece of bread in a store.

"In short, the three bodies died in horrible conditions. I could only judge their race based on their height and skulls. But the cause of their death was very consistent—loss of soul."

"Ah!" Hopper cried out in surprise. Now she understood why the Inquisitor suspected the activities of false god believers. The soul, as the domain of the gods, was rarely affected by mortal magic.

The conditions for causing a person to lose their soul are extremely demanding. The body is both a shackle and a shield for the soul. Generally speaking, even if the victim signs a contract, the devils cannot reap their soul until they die.

If someone died of soul loss, it was almost certain that they had fanatically and blindly believed in, or even believed in, the murderer. Only by giving their wholehearted devotion, willingly sacrificing their soul, could their soul leave their body. A mortal being capable of such a feat was extremely rare.

The Inquisitor gave Hopper a look that told him this was why he was willing to cooperate with her.

"It's hard to say. At least an ordinary reaper or succubus can't make people lose their souls." Hopper's mind was working quickly, and he muttered to himself, "I guess it might be a high-level being."

Hopper loved to solve puzzles. The stimulating sensation of her scalp tightening made her unconsciously straighten her body, her hands unconsciously combing her hair as she carefully considered all the existing clues.

"What kind of person is Sticky Fingers?" She felt vaguely that she had grasped a clue and couldn't help talking to herself.

"A young prodigal who loves women, strong drink, and dice. He's lazy and doesn't know how to distinguish grains." The Inquisitor replied without hesitation. "He might starve to death without being able to bake himself a decent loaf of bread."

The succubus jumped up, she knew the answer.

She rushed up to the second floor like a gust of wind, followed the lingering smell of blood, and plunged into the first room in the corridor. The Inquisitor couldn't see in the dark like her, so he walked behind carefully, holding a candle.

"What are you looking for?" The Inquisitor watched her rummaging around the room and couldn't help but ask, "This study is where the Kane family's housekeeper lives. I've checked it, and there's no trace of magic in it."

"As soon as I walked into this room, I knew I was right." Hopper flipped through the books on the desk one by one, her thoughts and her speech speed gradually accelerating. "Why would a housekeeper live in the study? Because the family was too poor, and she was old, she simply didn't have the time or energy to clean out another room. This is both her studio and her bedroom."

"It's true that one of a housekeeper's duties is to answer letters," the Inquisitor said, watching her pull out drawers and rummage through them. "I've examined all her letters. I believe her murderer did the same the night she was murdered."

Finally, Hopper straightened up and found what he was looking for - an inconspicuous notebook full of numbers and nouns.

The judge took it, flipped through a few pages, and asked in confusion, "The housekeeper's account book? Can you tell anything from the changes in the prices of milk and eggs?"

"You and the mysterious murderer share a blind spot, a common affliction among my kind—ignoring the habits of ordinary people." Hopper raised a finger, secretly thankful that he had a shop in Emerald Harbor and was therefore in the habit of keeping accounts. "You've traveled all over the continent, so you're certainly not a playboy. And the mysterious murderer probably never even bothered with shopping."

"So, you all overlooked one thing. A playboy whose old housekeeper would bring breakfast to his bed every day, how would such a person know where to buy things?"

Hopper smiled and turned to the page she needed, pointing it to the judge. "He performed sacrifices at home, and he would never let that pious lady provide the sacrifices for him. All the things he needed could only have been prepared by his old housekeeper."

The Inquisitor looked at the page Hopper pointed to, his brow furrowed even deeper. He flipped through two more pages, still not understanding.

"Why does the housekeeper help him find so many men who sell their bodies? Could it be that he likes men? Even if that's the case, isn't it too frequent?"

Author's words: "Hai Niang" refers to the blood squeezed out of meat sauce. As for the source of the meat sauce, it is best not to know.

Chapter 122: The Elegantly Dressed Lady

After hearing the judge's words, the succubus doubled over with laughter. After a long while, he suppressed his laughter and explained:

"No, no, no, dear Lord Igor, you are a master at hunting down false god believers, but I guess you may not have much experience dealing with succubi."

The Inquisitor wasn't offended by the succubus's comments. He nodded and admitted bluntly, "In my career, I haven't encountered many of those gentle, fragrant monsters. Do you think these men are related to succubi? Did a succubus seduce the Cain boy, making him worship her like a god?"

"I'm not so sure," Hopper said without being too absolute. "I mean, it's not necessarily a succubus. But I can guess why Sticky Fingers is looking for so many men to sell their bodies. They are the sacrifices for this ritual."

The Inquisitor's eyes darkened. He pondered for a moment and shook his head. "I don't mean to deny your expertise, young lady. But covering up the deaths of three dwarfs in the face of the Archbishop's indifference is one thing. Covering up the disappearance of more than a dozen people in the Shady District is another. I don't believe the Kane family is capable of doing that now."

"Who said they're dead?" Hopper said with mock annoyance. "If it's offered to creatures from other lower planes, the offerings are usually blood, gold, or even souls. But creatures like succubi, succubi, and seducers are different. They accept emotions as sacrifices. To some extent, they even accept a full night of intense exercise as a sacrifice."

"Judging from the expenditure records in the account book, our venerable Mr. Sticky Fingers has performed the great symphony of life at least five times."

The Inquisitor's face twisted slightly, as if he'd bitten into a lemon. Even though Hopper had used rather euphemistic terms, he still understood the underlying meaning. And he had to admit, given Sticky Fingers' usual behavior, he would certainly be more than happy to accept such a sacrifice.

"But here's a question." Hopper was still searching through other books, hoping to gain some inspiration. "Suppose Sticky Fingers was making a deal with a beautiful monster. Are the three dwarfs also connected to this monster? What's the connection? Why was Sticky Fingers killed? What role did the dark elves play in this?"

"I still need to think about other questions, but I have a rough idea of ​​why Sticky Fingers was killed." The Inquisitor also flipped through the book, explaining as he searched. "No matter how powerful that beautiful lady was, she was definitely not strong enough to dare to appear in broad daylight in Emerald Harbor. Otherwise, she wouldn't have sought cooperation with a fallen noble like the Kane family."

"In fact, I dare say that she must be extremely weak or under extremely strict constraints. Therefore, after discovering that her garter was missing, she hurriedly killed Sticky Fingers to cut off all traces that could be traced back to her. She was even unwilling to take the risk of Sticky Fingers buying the garter back. After all, the risk of a dead person is much lower than that of a living person. Sticky Fingers has offended so many people that he doesn't care if he dies."

"Your words just now reminded me that this young lady certainly doesn't understand the lives of ordinary people. She might not have considered that Sticky Fingers simply didn't have the money to hire the sacrifices she needed, which is why she had evil intentions towards her belongings. Or maybe she did consider this, but was too confident in her own charm to guard against Sticky Fingers' sneaky moves."

The Inquisitor took the garter from his bag and examined it carefully in the candlelight. He then continued, "Sticky Fingers is a nobleman who can frighten even a stray dog. So, do you know what I'm thinking?"

Hopper reached for the garter; it felt wonderful and evidently worth its weight in gold. She replied, "You figured it out. This beautiful killer must have appeared in the guise of a human or some other common species. That's why Sticky Fingers boasted about finding a noble lady. And a noble lady dressed in expensive clothes almost certainly has a public identity in the Twinkling Star Region."

"Very good, Miss Hopper. If it weren't for the fact that Blood Father doesn't like to bless women, I would have written a letter of recommendation for you to try out in the City of Brewing." Igor showed a barely perceptible smile on his face, and quickly continued to discuss the case.

"As for whether it's related to the dwarfs, I just need to talk to the horses and flowers in the city who are engaged in the flesh trade to find out."

"I don't know if that's wise. The lady certainly isn't going to kill everyone she's had sex with to avoid attracting attention," Hopper said. "But she certainly isn't going to leave it all up to chance. Whether she's using hypnosis or some other method, it's going to take quite a while to discern whether what they're saying is the truth or what they believe to be the truth."

The Inquisitor's mouth widened, revealing an expression that could barely be called a smile. He extended his bright red tongue to lick his sharp canines, his expression of excitement tinged with a hint of quiet madness.

"You don't need to worry about that. I'm afraid not many people can keep their mouths shut in front of Blood Father's favorites."

Hopper shuddered. She had heard many legends about the Inquisitor.

She was very happy that things were progressing so quickly. Most inquisitors were not mentally stable enough to act like normal people for a whole day, so the less contact she had with him, the safer it would be.

Besides, she didn't gain nothing. At least she had a good excuse not to stay with the Inquisitor.

"Then I wish you good luck, and I have to take care of my own business." Hopper handed the Inquisitor a note he had just found.

"A receipt?" The judge's mouth moved silently as he read the receipt. "Black henbane and hot water clover. What did the housekeeper buy these for on credit? To make bootleg liquor or a remedy for sprains and fractures?"

"You have a point. But these two herbs are commonly used together for another purpose—to repel rats."

"Rats?" the Inquisitor repeated, puzzled. "There are probably twenty to one rats in this mansion. Why is she suddenly trying to get rid of them?"

Hopper shook his head, pointed mysteriously at the floor, and said, "She bought too much, so she bought it on credit. But it's too impractical for a housekeeper to expel rats from such a large house. So, she must have used it in a large, enclosed space. It's large enough to require such a large amount, and closed enough for the herbs to work."

"And what kind of space is poorly ventilated, full of rats, and quite large?" The succubus casually stuffed the note back into his pocket, took the lead in walking down the stairs, and began banging around in the hall.

"My answer is, the sewer."