First, We Must Claim Nothing Happened...

It wasn't that we hadn't dealt with him—it was that he had nearly dealt with us...

Faced with the burly man's rebuke, Libo could not help letting out a breath.

That damned blind witch was dead, but she had left him with a whole mess to clean up.

Just thinking of the ashes that had fallen onto the altar... and the terrifying power contained within them, made Libo tremble slightly.

Many followers of the God of First Cry had tried to clear away those ashes, only to be inexplicably burned.

It was only over the past two days that the ashes had cooled somewhat, but no one dared use that altar anymore.

"Quintus, calm down, my friend." Cicero reached out, trying to soothe the burly man with short golden hair.

A fine layer of sweat had already formed on Cicero's forehead. He was genuinely worried about provoking the man before him.

Ever since Quintus learned that Conor Guilliman had secretly adopted a son, he had grown increasingly agitated. In this month alone, more than a dozen slaves had died at his hands.

In truth, even when he was not agitated, this bastard was hardly a calm man. In his twenties, while serving in the army, he had fought more than ten soldiers who had revolted against his harsh training all by himself, personally killing four and crippling eight...

The nerves of this savage monster were stretched to their limit. Cicero truly feared that he might do something insane in a fit of irrationality and ruin their plan completely.

"How am I supposed to calm down? Cicero, do you remember what you promised me?"

Quintus sat back down in his chair, his fists clenched tight, veins bulging across his hands, his face twisted into something savage and terrifying.

"You should have followed my idea and killed him outright."

"The times are different now, Lord Quintus." Cicero took a deep breath. "Ten or twenty years ago, we could have found a gang of thugs and sent him to his death."

"But now, the times are different. The soldiers your uncle brought back fill every street and alley. Laser weapons have become standard military equipment. The entire city has been swept clean, drones fly overhead, and every scrap of information is sent back to the Cogitator in his office. We simply cannot find anyone to do it for us, and using our own people would inevitably expose us."

"The only option would be to find the barbarians of Elyrium, but it is already too late for that."

Today was March 20th. In two days, Marcus Guilliman's interview would begin.

As a teacher at the Rhetoric Academy, Cicero taught debate and politics, so he was well versed in the art of stalling and shifting blame in politics.

The first stage was to claim that nothing had happened.

"I never expected Macragge to have such an outstanding grammar teacher, someone capable of competing with me and even surpassing me," Cicero said to Quintus.

The second stage was to claim that perhaps something had happened, but that no action should be taken.

"But at the time, we believed that he was, at the end of the day, merely an ordinary teacher. We had many gentler ways to deal with him, and there was no need to resort to extreme measures."

The third stage was to claim that perhaps action should have been taken, but there was nothing they could do.

"When we discovered that he might be a witch, we did act. But as you can see, we did not succeed."

The fourth stage was to claim that action should have been taken then, but now it was too late.

"As I just said, recruitment begins in two days. Whatever we do now, it is already too late."

Cicero waved a hand.

"The only option is for me to defeat Zhou Yun fairly and squarely."

"Perhaps he is slightly better than me on the written examination, but as Macragge's master of debate, I am confident that I can persuade your father with my eloquence."

Quintus raised his eyelids. "My father will not be examining you. That boy will be coming to examine you personally."

That boy... Cicero raised his brows slightly. Wasn't that child only six or seven years old?

"Then you have even less to worry about. A child is easier to persuade than your father."

"Let's hope so. From what I hear, your competitor seems to have won quite a lot of money from you at the casino." Quintus sneered.

Cicero's smile froze. This debt truly weighed on him.

He had always enjoyed indulgence and pleasure, and his expenses had always been high. He had little savings on hand, so even though that senator had stepped in to postpone Cicero's repayment date and reduce some of the interest, these debts were still no small burden to him.

Just then, there was a knock on the private room's door, and a waiter brought in a note.

Cicero took the note, and his expression abruptly changed.

"What happened?" Seeing Cicero's expression, Libo suddenly had a bad feeling.

"Zhou Yun... he's here again." Cicero clenched the note tightly.

"Macragge damn it!" Libo cursed.

"He comes here often?" Quintus asked with a frown.

"Almost every day..." Cicero said with intense resentment.

"And then? You just let him come?" Quintus looked at Cicero and Libo with disdain. The two of them seemed as though Zhou Yun had scared the courage out of them.

Cicero and Libo exchanged a glance, both recalling the fates of Tull and the blind witch.

"You go." Libo spoke before Cicero could. "Go see what he wants."

"...Me?" Cicero sucked in a sharp breath.

"Think about your debts. Don't forget that I am your creditor." Libo patted Cicero on the back.

"Two fives and a three—big!" The casino dealer lifted the dice cup, and the gamblers present cried out in surprise.

This was already the thirteenth consecutive roll totaling thirteen. The way everyone looked at Zhou Yun had even begun to carry a trace of worship.

Zhou Yun casually pulled the chips he had won toward himself.

Recently, he had often come to this bathhouse to gamble, mainly for three purposes.

The first was that Zhou Yun desperately wanted to find a way to gather more faith. He had tried all sorts of methods, but none had yielded as much as when he burned the blind witch to death. He very much wanted to recreate that situation, so he had come to provoke these followers of Slaanesh—but they had kept ignoring Zhou Yun. How cold-hearted.

The second purpose was that Cicero was right. This was indeed a place frequented by many of Macragge's nobles, senators, and wealthy classes. Zhou Yun had been quietly reading their minds, obtaining much valuable intelligence.

For example, Lucretius had the greatest reputation in Macragge's witch circles; the Broken Lighthouse Temple had recently been investigating Macragge's witches, and Zhou Yun was within the scope of its investigation; and the Semoneta Church was not united internally either. High Priest Tatius had never accepted the doctrine that the God of First Cry was Semuneta...

The third purpose was that these cultists possessed something Zhou Yun wanted...

"Cicero, my good brother!" When Zhou Yun saw Cicero appear at the turn of the stairs, he could not help raising a hand to greet him.

Cicero descended the stairs with a stiff expression.