Half a month later, their visas expired. Having nearly gone wild with fun, everyone had no choice but to obediently board the flight home, bringing this still-unsatisfying trip abroad to an end.
By the way, "home" naturally meant the thoroughly dreadful Great Britain.
After all, Samael's bar was a spatial anchor point extending from the Blackmoya Village castle, the council headquarters. This place was actually located in Cornwall, a region the ancient serpent knew rather well.
In fact, for ease of movement, he not only had a complete set of upper-class British identities, but also multiple identities from Rome, America, and Huaxia. He had so many aliases that a whole drawer could not hold them all.
Thanks to documents forged so convincingly they were more real than the real thing, everyone's return journey went without a hitch. They even flew first class, fully enjoying the luxury of an all-expenses-paid trip.
Before returning, Samael had already coordinated their story with the others and mailed the lengthy bill to the castle, letting those above reimburse it.
And the bags they carried off the plane were proof that they had been bought off.
They contained not only all sorts of hand puppets, snacks, and handicrafts, but also complete sets of collector's edition novels, boxes of Parisian fashion, jewelry, and more...
Under the serpent's temptation, tailored to their tastes, neither the Outer God Shrine Maiden nor the True Ancestors of Millennium City escaped corruption. They collectively dumped the mess of their public-funded feasting and spending onto the Wise Wolf guarding the treasury and assessing the budget, who might lose fur again this year.
"Screech!"
With a beautiful inertia drift and fishtail turn, a sleek sapphire-blue Citroën left two charred tire marks on the ground before coming to a steady stop in front of the