On the airship.
"Do you all remember?" Ang stood before the control console, his gaze sweeping over the Flame Swordsmen in the cabin, his tone firm and forceful.
"Yes, my lord, we remember everything!" the Flame Swordsmen replied in unison. Their voices were loud and orderly, echoing through the sealed airship and carrying a chilling air of menace.
Ang nodded slightly, then turned expressionlessly, his gaze falling on the thick clouds beyond the porthole.
He knew perfectly well that seven parts of what he had just told Steven Brill about the Black Magic Society had been a smokescreen, while only three parts were true.
His claim that the Black Magic Society was plotting something sinister had certainly been greatly exaggerated, but the aura detected by the Tracking Compass was undeniably real. Those Black Mages had been active within Brill Manor; that was beyond dispute.
"Temple," he called softly, taking out an intricately designed Magic Communicator. "Keep a close watch on the manor. As long as anyone comes out, no matter who they are, follow them."
"Understood, my lord." Temple's calm voice came from the communicator. "None of them will get away."
Meanwhile, on the ground beneath the airship, Ang had already deployed squads of Flame Swordsmen.
They lay hidden at key intersections around the manor. The moment anyone left the estate, they would be silently followed.
Each squad consisted of three people, retaining sufficient flexibility without sacrificing combat power.
Ang stood in the center of the cabin, his brows slightly furrowed.
He did not actually bear any fundamental hostility toward the Black Magic Society. In his view, whether Black Mages or white magic mages, they were all people pursuing power.
But the problem was that this time, they had crossed his bottom line.
Reaching beneath his very nose was a