Baator Hell Promotion

Hopper finally found her target: a brick in the only remaining fireplace in the hall had come loose. She pulled hard.

The wall behind the fireplace sank with a rumbling sound, and a cold wind filled with moisture and a foul stench blew out from inside.

And Hopper once again heard the faint croaking of frogs.

Chapter 123: Tunnel

A wet staircase descended almost vertically, extending to a depth beyond Hopper's sight. The space behind the fireplace was not large, and she had to tuck herself in to get through. A chilly wind blew up from under her feet, clearly indicating that there was an even wider space below.

Fortunately, the stairs weren't long, and the unbearable feeling of crampedness only lasted a moment. The corridor below the stairs sloped slightly, extending straight down. Hopper stooped, moving forward in the dark passage. The sound of heavy boots behind him signaled that the Inquisitor had followed.

Hopper reached out and touched a small niche in the wall. Inside, a clay bowl was filled with cooled ashes. She picked up a handful and sniffed it. "It's the ashes of black scoparia. It seems my suspicion was correct."

The Inquisitor, passing by, extended his hand to confirm, but his voice still held a hint of doubt: "The Kane family is already so broke, why would they buy rat poison? It will all be fine if we just bear with it."

"I guess our little Kane wouldn't be able to get his elderly butler down without falling to his death," Hopper shrugged. Rodents had been her favorite form when she was a little devil, but looking back now, that was a long time ago. "So, how could a nobleman tolerate being around a bunch of rats?"

Hopper stopped, facing a cold brick wall. She touched the brick seams and found that the plaster was still wet. She joked, "It seems that the dark elves' masonry skills are not bad."

The stern Igor didn't respond to her joke, but carefully placed the half-burnt candle a few steps away. He gestured for Hopper to step back. Then he raised his leg and kicked hard, and the unhardened brick wall collapsed under the attack of his hard-soled boot.

The sound of gurgling water and the more pronounced croaking of frogs reached the Devil's ears as the brick wall collapsed. She followed the sound, lowered her head, passed through the gap, and picked up a piece of chain from the ground nearby. At each end of the chain hung a smoothly cut metal semicircle.

The Inquisitor motioned with his eyes for her to explain what it was.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot you didn't see the dancer's performance," Hopper said with a grin. Since she was sure the Inquisitor wouldn't get angry, she figured she might as well be a little bolder. "Here are the dancer's shackles. Apparently, they didn't feel safe enough to take the time to remove them until they got here."

"Here?" The Inquisitor, either not understanding or unconcerned by her ridicule, simply looked up and observed the garbage-filled room. "Looks like a sewer?"

"Emerald Harbor is a coastal city. If I remember correctly, its drainage system is quite developed. It should be a building from the early days of the Reminiscent Dynasty." Hopper said, looking around at the ancient stone.

The room outside the corridor was much more spacious than the narrow passage, and could accommodate at least ten people to rest temporarily. On the wall opposite the passage, where the candlelight couldn't reach, there was a small hole, only wide enough for one person to pass through. The sound of water and the stench came from that direction.

"It seems we were all wrong, Miss Hopper," the Inquisitor said, holding a candle as he examined the leftover bones and other discarded garbage on the ground. "Mr. Kane might not have been chosen simply because he was poor, insignificant, and easy to control. I'm afraid the tunnel beneath his house is even more important than he himself."

"It seems that the builders of the Kane family mansion were rather timid, which is why they left a hole leading to the sewer. I guess they were counting on this passage to preserve the family's last chance of survival." The succubus commented casually. She was still looking at the broken chain, trying to figure out why the pendant would react to a pair of shackles.

"But I'm not quite sure what the relationship is between the dark elves, the mysterious murderer, and the Kane family. Is it the mysterious murderer who is controlling the dark elves, or is it the dark elves who are seeking out the mysterious murderer? If the dark elves' goal is to rescue their female noble, then what is the mysterious murderer's goal?"

"What I'm even more curious about is why the dark elves launched the rescue operation on the day of the banquet. Wouldn't it be safer to sneak into the prison cell secretly? Or is there someone behind the scenes manipulating them, forcing them to act on the night of the banquet?"

The judge gathered several bricks of varying sizes, piled them together, and then, taking up one of them, said, "Then let us use the most primitive and reliable method—one by one."

"First, let's review all the known conditions." He picked up a piece of chalk from the ground, squatted down, and began to write. "The dark elves' purpose is obvious: to rescue the dancer you mentioned."

The Inquisitor laid out the broken bricks and pebbles side by side, and wrote the words "Dark Elf" and "Murderer" next to each, respectively. Next to the word "Dark Elf" he wrote "Purpose: Rescue."

"What was the murderer's motive? Judging from the dwarf's death, she might have wanted to extract little Kane's soul, or make him believe in some false god."

Next to the pebble he wrote the murderer's target and put a question mark.

"Let's assume the murderer's status outranks the Dark Elves," the judge analyzed. "If that's the case, then it makes sense for the murderer to bewitch little Cain, given that Dark Elves have never lived in Emerald Harbor. If it was an order from a higher power, it's not surprising that the Dark Elves took action on the day of the banquet."

"If the Dark Elves hired the killer, having someone familiar with the area to help them infiltrate, and then the killer chose little Kane, whose house had a secret passage, then here's another question: why did the Dark Elves choose that day to strike?"

Hopper looked at the pattern on the ground, pondered, took another piece of chalk, drew a circle between the dark elf and the murderer, and then wrote "Banquet Attack".

She pointed at the circled area and said, "I don't think the relationship between the murderer and the dark elves is the key. The two scenarios you mentioned actually only have one key question: why did they attack at the banquet?"

"In theory, when something unreasonable happens, we should analyze the biggest beneficiaries. They must be the driving force behind this incident."

The Inquisitor shook his head slowly. The biggest beneficiary in this incident was the dark elf. It was not clear whether the mysterious murderer had profited.

Hopper saw his expression and knew he was getting stuck in a rut. She suggested, "Mr. Judge, since we can't identify the biggest beneficiary, we can also analyze the biggest victim."

"The biggest victim?" The Inquisitor was a little unresponsive. "You mean the Vlinster family?"

"Haven't you heard the rumors in town?" Hopper asked.

"What rumors? I've been busy investigating and inspecting this mansion these past two days and haven't been to the tavern at all."

"First there was the bastard scandal at Lord Verinster's banquet, then there was the dark elf riot, and even this group of rioters managed to escape. What do you think the great men of Emerald Haven will say about Lord Verinster? Martial law cannot withstand the whispers at a tea party. Do you believe all this happened by coincidence? I don't believe it. I don't even believe that only one noble participated in these things."

"Tsk, dirty politics!" the Inquisitor said with disdain. "This isn't just a case of a false god. If powerful nobles are involved, I'll have to prepare a few more pots of arrows."

Chapter 124: Separate Roads

"But I still think there's something wrong." The Inquisitor began scratching his beard again. Hopper thought this might be the main reason why his beard didn't grow long.

"The information available is contradictory. I was left alone in the guardhouse drinking cheap sailor's wine all night and didn't get to see the spectacular performance of the dark elves dancing. But according to you, the dark elf dancers were a program arranged by the Westerling family themselves. So who could bypass them and cooperate with the dark elves?"

Hopper shrugged and rolled his eyes. "The dancer was indeed a slave of the Westerling family, but whether her capture was entirely the work of the Westerling family, no one can be sure. After all, our respected Speaker used a wind dragon beast to impersonate a dragon. Who knows where he got the dark elf from? Maybe the cute little Peter found it while walking on the beach?"

Igor scratched his greasy hair, his other hand subconsciously groping for the crossbow at his waist. His eyes were blank as he asked, "Are you saying that someone deliberately helped the Westerlings capture the dark elf dancer, and then contacted her clansmen to rescue her at the banquet. Just to humiliate the Speaker's family?"

"Rather than a humiliation, I think it's more of a challenge to authority," Hopper corrected. "There are many important figures waiting to see the Westerlings suffer. For example, I don't believe Dame Tira would be indifferent to the death of three dwarfs in the city. She must hate Archbishop Eichmann, and she can't be completely resentful of the Westerling family for tolerating the Archbishop."

"You haven't revealed who performed the blood sacrifice in the City of Brew, but I guess it was Ms. Tira or someone she trusts. In that case, why can't she find a way to take revenge on her own without your help?" Hopper yawned boredly. The mystery was almost solved. She soon lost interest in the things happening in Emerald Harbor and began to study the chain again.

The Inquisitor neither admitted nor denied the allegations, but simply sighed. He clearly knew he couldn't uphold the principle of "better to kill the wrongdoer than to let the guilty go" and eliminate every noble who might be involved.

The Blood Father's favored henchmen do, to a certain extent, have the power to override local laws when it comes to exterminating followers of false gods. This is supported by numerous temples—even quite a few spokesmen for the evil gods acknowledge this. But clearly, this privilege doesn't mean they can truly slaughter an entire city's nobles, leaving them strewn with corpses.

"The politics of Emerald Harbor may be complex, but no one can escape the executioner's blade," the Inquisitor vowed firmly. He then realized his companion wasn't listening at all, staring intently at the shackles left behind by the Dark Elf, wondering what he was thinking.

"Miss Hopper, Miss Hopper?" the judge called out several times, trying to get Hopper's attention. "What are you thinking about? Is there something wrong with the shackles?"

The succubus suddenly came to her senses. She turned around and said unhappily, "No, Your Excellency the Inquisitor, there is nothing wrong with it, but this is the biggest problem. I can sense the aura of the target I am tracking from the shackles, but I can't explore it any further. It has no magic and the craftsmanship is ordinary. I don't understand how it is connected to my target."

She walked to the small door and stuck her head out to check. Outside was a channel so wide it was almost a creek, stretching into endless darkness at both ends. Within Hopper's field of vision, she saw at least four forks leading in different directions.

"They've been ahead of us for a whole day, and they're still underground, where the dark elves thrive." She stepped back and sighed, "The chances of us catching up with them are slim. This shackle may be my only clue."

"Can I take a look?" The Inquisitor still had the same expression, not affected by the demon's emotions at all. He just took the chain from her hand and began to study it.

Igor held up the candle and carefully examined the cut section in the candlelight.

"The cross-section is very smooth. It must have been cut by an adamantine weapon," Hopper said dryly.

The Inquisitor ignored her. He picked up the anklet suspiciously, sniffed it, and shook it in his hand. Hopper noticed his unusual behavior and closed his mouth and held his breath, afraid to disturb him.

Igor took out a knife from his waist bag and scraped off a handful of powder. Then he took out a flint and rubbed it lightly.

The Inquisitor jerked his head back, the flames from the burning powder nearly singeing off his eyebrows. He waved, "Miss Hopper, come here."

The burnt powder turned into a black mass, and Hopper didn't see anything special about it.

Igor smiled and patiently explained, "You might not be familiar with the material of the weapon. And it burned so quickly just now that you might not have noticed the darker color of the flame, not the bright yellow of burning iron powder."

"This means it's not pure iron. Considering it's used to bind dark elves, I guess it's mixed with cold iron. I think you should know why."

"Many scholars believe that elves originated from the Feywild, even the fallen Dark Elves. And cold iron is a powerful weapon against the elves," Hopper replied, his thoughts suddenly opening up. "Even if the maker didn't know its purpose, they would surely be impressed by this special item."

"Not only that, the shackles are heavier than I expected, and there's a green tint to the cross-section." He moved the cross-section under the candlelight and shook it gently. Hopper squinted, almost blinded, before he could vaguely make out the vague green luster.

"There must be something else mixed in it, and it is definitely not a common material. Otherwise, the fire just now would not be so fierce." The Inquisitor glanced at Hopper and concluded.

Hopper nodded gratefully and took the shackles from him. Now that they had found a way in, the rest would be easy. There were only a few blacksmiths in Emerald Harbor, so it wouldn't be difficult to investigate.

"Ms. Hopper, since we are pursuing different targets, our paths need to separate for the time being. However, I have a feeling that our paths will one day intersect again." The Inquisitor extended a hand to Hopper. At this time, they had left the sewer and said goodbye outside the dark mansion.

Hopper reached out her hand and shook his in a good mood. She never liked stupid people, and it made her even happier if her teammates were smart, even if it was just temporary.

"I feel the same way. The turmoil in this city won't calm down so quickly."

The succubus waved her cloak and melted into the shadows almost instantly. After a few more steps, the Inquisitor could no longer distinguish her from the shadows of the trees.

The decryption took too much time that night, and Hopper could already see a cool white color in the farthest reaches of the dark blue eastern sky.

But fate seemed to think Hopper's life wasn't exciting enough. When she stepped into her shop, an unexpected voice rang out:

"Ms. Hopper, you're a little late."

Chapter 125: Difficult to Heal

In the dim morning light, a tall figure walked out from the corridor.

Perhaps because he had waited too long, the knight's eyes were bloodshot and his voice was hoarse as if he had swallowed charcoal.

"When did you get here?" Hopper asked in surprise. "Is there something urgent? Even if you are strong, you shouldn't wait outside."

The knight didn't respond. His gaze shifted from Hopper's light-absorbing cloak to her muddy boots, and it was obvious that he was trying hard not to roar.

"You're a little late," he repeated in a trembling voice. "Lord Westerling just declared martial law yesterday."

"In that case, you shouldn't be standing outside the door. Come on, knight. I'll pour you a cup of hot tea." Hopper calmly opened the door and motioned Knight Aaron to come in.

He hesitated for a moment, then followed her into the house. It was even darker inside than outside, and the moment he turned around, a cold, sharp blade was pressed precisely against his throat.

"You ask too many questions, knight. A lady should be allowed to keep her secrets, shouldn't she?" In the darkness, Hopper's voice was bewitching and magnetic. Danger and desire brought a psychedelic double stimulation. The knight could not ignore the coldness of the blade, and he inevitably felt that the body close to him was so warm and soft.

This danger aroused the knight's blood, giving him an impulse to tear the person in front of him to pieces with a knife, hands, or even teeth. The shame of being deceived and the impatience of waiting all night made him completely disregard the danger. He suddenly grabbed Hopper's shoulders, panting, eyes red, and threw her to the ground.

The demon groaned in pain. The knight lowered his head and opened his mouth. Like a bulldog, his heavy, hot breath sprayed on the face of his seemingly harmless prey.

"You shouldn't do this, Ms. Hopper" Aaron stood up suddenly, keeping his head away from danger and temptation.

With the crackling of flint, the room was lit by a candle. Her cloak rustled across the floor as Hopper placed the candle on the counter. The candlelight illuminated the blade in her hand, a small herb knife.

The knight closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He was not an inexperienced boy, but the lady could still control his psychology and even physiological reactions effortlessly.

"Sit down, Knight Aaron," Hopper said as he lit the charcoal brazier. "One secret for another. Tell me, what happened to you that you had to come to me in the middle of the night? I'll also tell you about my adventures that night."

Knight Aaron raised his head, his usual confident smile plastered on his face, lust and the desire for conquest still intertwined in his eyes. He walked over to the counter and sat down. His voice was low, "How many secrets do you have, Miss Hopper?"

"There's no particular reason. It's just that a fool with a terrible backache, out of blind chivalry and concern for a frightened, vulnerable lady, decided to protect her."

The knight shook his head in self-mockery, but the fire in his eyes remained unextinguished. "But I have to say, knowing you might be dangerous has actually made me even more interested. So, did you go to the Non-Existent Tavern in the Void Land to drink air wine?"

"I went to discuss something with a partner. I assure you, it's absolutely legal," Hopper said casually, ignoring the knight's confession. She was more concerned about something else Aaron had just said.

"Your back hurts?" Her intuition as a herbalist surprised her. "That shouldn't be the case. The blue aloe vera potion itself has a very good analgesic effect."

She patted the knight's shoulder, signaling him to reveal the wound. His confession didn't get the response he wanted, which made Aaron a little disappointed, but he hid his emotions well and obediently turned around, took off his shirt, and let the herbalist examine it.

The hideous wound on Aaron's strong and muscular back had begun to heal, but no scar had formed, leaving only a narrow gap.

Hopper reached out and pressed gently. The warm skin trembled and goose bumps appeared, but no blood or tissue fluid flowed out of the gap.

"That's strange," Hopper said, pulling his hand back, his face full of confusion. "The wound is healing well overall, but the deepest nerves seem to be irritated. Have you eaten anything unusual lately?"

The knight turned his back to her and shook his head. "Because of the disaster last night, Sheriff Edmund has summoned all the sheriffs today. Even the injured have been assigned lighter tasks. So far, I have only eaten wheat bread and water, just like my fellow sheriffs."

Hopper felt that this scene was familiar. She had encountered a similar thing in the sewer not long ago. She vaguely felt that something was wrong, but she didn't know what the problem was.

So she thought it would be a good idea to learn from the Inquisitor's method.

The knight groaned because of the foreign object invading the wound and the disturbance of the wound, and then Hopper patted his back in dissatisfaction, signaling him to be quiet.

"Mr. Knight, please relax and stop acting like a newlywed virgin."

She mercilessly inserted the silver knife into Aaron's wound, sliding it up and down, stabbing, and dripping the blood into the bottle filled with clean water.

Fortunately, this behavior did not last long. When Yalong turned around, he saw her dividing the light red liquid into several groups of smaller crystal bottles.

"What are you doing?" Aaron was as casual as if he was at home. He found the White Spider Potion from a pile of bottles and jars, opened it and took a sip to promote the healing of the wound that had just been bleeding again.

"I'm trying to find out what's causing you so much pain." Hopper answered him without stopping his hands, taking out various reagents and dripping them into the crystal bottle.

Finally, Hopper straightened up, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and looked at all the bottles on the counter in confusion. He said hesitantly, "It's strange. No matter whether it's strong acid, salt water, sulfur, mercury or anything else, it doesn't react with it. It looks no different from ordinary blood."

Aaron's back injury prevented him from bending over, so he had to lie on the counter to observe. He couldn't even tell what kind of liquid was added to the crystal bottle, let alone what the difference was.

Hopper stretched himself, and before he knew it, it was already bright outside the window.

"I remember that you're not the only one injured. Are the other sheriffs also injured like this?"

Aaron continued staring at the crystal bottles as he slowly recalled, "Edmund never showed it, but he needed to maintain his commanding authority, so even if he was in pain, he wouldn't show it in front of us. The other sheriffs all complained of pain from their wounds, but I can't confirm if it was the same as mine."

Hearing this, Hopper fell into deep thought. Was she overlooking something crucial? Knight Aaron was no pampered nobleman; the pain that kept him awake was far from trivial. If that were the case, why didn't the other injured people behave in the same way?

"Ms. Hopper," Knight Yaron called, interrupting her thoughts. The knight was still staring at the crystal bottles. "You should come and see this."

The first rays of morning sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the counter, making the crystal bottles sparkle. The penultimate bottle emitted a faint golden glow, with inconspicuous bubbles bubbling out.

Chapter 126 Where Did the Blacksmith Come From?

The reaction of the liquid in the bottle is slow and slight. If you don't observe carefully, you might even mistake it for bubbles naturally produced by water after being exposed to sunlight.

However, water does not glow, and the bubbles that emerge do not appear faintly green.