"A gas explosion occurred near the bus stop at the city square, injuring two people slightly."
Listening to the report on TV, Lu PingAn let out a small sigh of relief. It was not merely because no one had died, but because—
"No news of the culprit being arrested? That should be the best possible outcome for me."
Yes, the Sophist not being arrested or killed was actually the best ending Lu PingAn could have hoped for.
Xia Qin had seen that he was bait. Chris could tell as well, just like Lu PingAn—and she was even more certain of it.
If the Sophist had truly been killed there yesterday, it would have meant the bait had been swallowed.
No matter the reason, once the fishing line snapped here, the Person Behind the Scenes would purge everyone involved.
But now, the Sophist was still alive. Didn't that mean the news had gotten out as well? If the cultists trusted one another and shared information, then yes.
"Chris, are all the believers in your church one big loving family?"
"Ah, ptooey."
Lu PingAn knew he had asked a stupid question. He just wanted to make sure.
A group of pirates searching for treasure—if one Lucky One truly found a clue, or if he was cannon fodder forced to scout ahead alone, would he honestly share the information with his companions?
"I wasn't capable of killing him. I only stole the statue, but that indirectly sent him a message—Chris is in terrible shape, so bad that she couldn't even beat him."
At this point, the Sophist would even try his best to cover up the theft of the "holy icon." At most, he would bring along an ally and investigate in secret, trying to keep the treasure for himself.
". . .