Shadows Beneath the Violet Lily

Sir Baron's deep-blue eyes watched Holy Mountain Journey projected onto the wall. Two months after its release, the winds of Magic Shadow had finally swept into the slums.

For just one copper coin, one could get a small stool seat. Whether it was near or far depended entirely on who arrived first. Very fair.

Those who did not want to pay could watch from the trees or rooftops in the distance, which were also packed with people. As for how much they could see, that depended on their own abilities.

"What a fine business." Sir Baron had watched Holy Mountain Journey many times already, and he found it quite interesting every time.

If it had any flaw, it was that he had no share in the business.

As the hidden investor behind the Violet Lily Troupe, Sir Baron knew perfectly well that Magic Shadow was the future of the performing arts. Troupes would not disappear; they would merely become accessories to Magic Shadow.

New things would inevitably replace old ones.

A very simple principle.

That was why he had to get involved with Magic Shadow and claim a share while it was still getting started. Only then would he have a place in Magic Shadow's future commercial empire.

However, entering at the height of its popularity was unwise. As a shrewd businessman, he chose the most cost-effective approach.

First, ruin the reputations of those working in Magic Shadow. It could not be easier. The lower classes had limited channels through which to obtain information. As long as those channels were embellished properly, they would believe it.

Just like now. When Raul appeared on screen, the audience no longer cheered. Curses had replaced them.

All it took was brainwashing one little girl to achieve such results. What a bargain.

Next would be every actor in Holy Mountain Journey: the shapeshifter, the half-orc, even that child. Oh, what a spirited child. A pity, but if he had to be ruined, then so be it. Magic Shadow technology was more important.

He had prepared plans for every key figure.

Once the production studio behind it was overwhelmed, it would be time for him to acquire Magic Shadow technology at a low cost.

Like a snake that had already injected venom into its prey, he was patient. He waited for the poison to take effect slowly, until the prey lost its ability to move.

"My lord, it is about time." A guard came to his side.

"Is it? It is already so late. You may all go back. Remember to pick me up at the usual time."

"Understood."

Sir Baron rose to his feet and smiled kindly at the children behind him, who could not afford tickets and were clinging to the low wall. "Sorry for blocking your view." He took two copper coins from his pocket. "Go buy yourselves something to eat. Goodbye."

Amid the children's thanks, he draped himself in a purple robe and walked into the night.

He passed through winding, narrow alleys and arrived before a dilapidated theater.

Its charred outer walls bore the traces of having once been burned. This was the former site of the Violet Lily Theater.

He walked up to the heavy doors and knocked. Three quick knocks, then two slow ones.

"Password."

"Revere the gods, serve Mammon."

After a brief wait, the doors slowly opened. A man in the same purple robes bowed slightly and said respectfully, "It is an honor to receive you, Sir Baron."

"We are both followers of Mammon. Why be bound by such empty worldly titles? Just call me Brother Baron."

The gatekeeper bowed again and strained to close the doors. Though the theater looked utterly ruined from the outside, its interior was anything but simple.

Defensive spells and all manner of traps covered every corner of the theater without blind spots. The doors were actually forged from fine gold, nearly thirty centimeters thick, merely covered on the outside with rotten boards to fool the eye.

Just as the doors were about to close, perhaps out of instinct, Sir Baron reached out to stop the gatekeeper and peered warily through the gap.

"What is it?"

"I feel like something is watching me."

"Please rest assured. Our sentries are everywhere nearby, all elite personnel trained from childhood. No matter who sneaks in, they will be discovered immediately."

"Is that so?" Sir Baron trusted his own eyes more. Traces of magic flickered in their deep-blue color, allowing him to see abnormal points of heat—a useful method for dealing with invisible or stealthy enemies.

Yet apart from the hidden sentries tucked into every corner of the shantytown, he truly saw no other heat sources.

"Perhaps I am overthinking it." Sir Baron released his hand from the door.

"I told you that you were worrying too much. Our brothers and sisters are waiting for you. Hurry inside." The gatekeeper continued closing the doors.

Bang!

The doors slammed shut. They looked so sturdy, like an impregnable line of defense.

In the distance, a handheld camera clinging beneath an eave, hidden by invisibility, recorded everything that had just happened and transmitted it back to the Dragon's Lair surveillance room.

The undead had no body heat.

Sir Baron walked deeper into the theater. The corridor was lit only by expensive but dim fluorescent stones along its sides, making it quite dark. After several dozen steps, the passage suddenly opened up.

The moment he entered the hall, the soundproof barrier enclosed him, and a surging wave of noise hit him head-on.

Cheers, laughter, curses, and chaotic, indescribable sounds made by people who had lost their minds after getting high on drugs.

He found it noisy.

On the stage, two children whose bodies were covered in carved runes were fighting for their lives, blood spraying everywhere.

This was a fight without rounds. Every minute, a weapon would be thrown onto the stage, each one sharper and more dangerous than the last, until one side fell forever.

The frenzied audience below placed bets excitedly. Their wagers were extremely detailed: not only the winner and loser, or the time, but also how much body weight each side would have left at the end, which organ would be lost first...

Sir Baron scoffed at this. Using long-trained disposable soldiers for entertainment was terribly cost-inefficient. But since these people were willing to pay for it, he could provide such services.

Around the edges of the hall were many private rooms, some enclosed and some half-open. They offered any food or playthings one could imagine, provided one could afford them.

Many people in purple robes sat in the private rooms, holding playthings whose ages, genders, and even species varied freely.

Sir Baron remembered that at the beginning, the best-selling ones had been half-orcs bred with furry animals. Later, things grew stranger and stranger. Now, people simply wanted animals.

When he arrived at a familiar private room, another believer had already been waiting there for some time.

"Oh, my dear Mr. Barn!" The believer opened his arms and warmly embraced Barn. "How was it? That little girl from last time—what was her name again? Right, Mila. Did you have fun? Brainwashing a memory of being with the actors... I have to say, only you could come up with such a strange way to play."

"She was not for playing with."

"Then what was she for, eating? That makes wiping a memory even stranger."

As he spoke, he pulled Barn over and sat him down.

Meanwhile, the gatekeeper was idly flipping through a newspaper, looking for some exciting comics.

A knock sounded at the door. Three quick knocks, then two slow ones.

"Who is it, coming this late?" The gatekeeper got up grumbling. "Password!"

"Here to check the water meter!"

"Huh?"