A blunt, edgeless knife
Hopkins stared at the blonde woman with wings on her back, and cold sweat broke out on his brow. Was he kidding? There was another one?
At this moment, he felt a pang of regret. Why had he been so greedy for the strange abilities this man had displayed, and tried to use them to amass more wealth?
"I am the official 'Witch Hunter General.' If I disappear, you will be relentlessly hunted down. So, if you're going to make a move, you'd better think about the consequences."
"What's going on, Witch Hunter General? Your legs are trembling. And you knew your true identity all along? You still came here trying to gain power. You should be glad you weren't born in my era, otherwise you wouldn't even have the chance to become a pig."
Circe slid down the stair railing and jumped to Bai Mo's side. The soldiers looked at the girl with some fear, gripping their guns tightly, but none dared to point them at Circe.
Hopkins ' gaze began to drift toward the door not far away. To be honest, he was already considering whether to abandon his personal guards, rush out, and order his soldiers to fire a volley.
"Alright, isn't that what you wanted to say? Go ahead, just to pass the time."
"The search for the Queen of Sheba will take some time," Bai Mo asked calmly. He was curious what this infamous man wanted to say to him.
Hopkins took a deep breath and said:
"Listen, the so-called witch trial is a business."
Although I don't know how capable you are, if you're covered in wanted posters, even shops won't sell you anything. Cooperating with me is the best option. You just need to pull off a few tricks, and then I can decide who the witch is.
I can use this to help those celebrities and nobles get rid of their political enemies; they're incredibly generous. I'll give you a legal status—think how wonderful that would be! Then the women around you won't have to be this skinny, bony type."
"Hey! What do you mean?!" Circe gritted his teeth.
Upon hearing Hopkins's words, Bai Mo laughed and said:
"You greedy fellow, a 'witch' can bring you so much wealth, yet you still want more. Wouldn't it be better to just honestly use your unsharpened dagger to identify the witch?"
Upon hearing Bai Mo's words, Circe and Ritsuka were visibly taken aback. The former was naturally shocked by the way this guy identified witches, while the latter naturally realized why he had just scratched himself.
Upon hearing Bai Mo's words, Hopkins laughed instead. He casually took out a crumpled piece of paper and unfolded it. On it was a portrait of a woman and a news report.
"Witch, you have no idea how valuable witches are these days. I went to a town where a woman was driven mad by hunger. I tied her up and pricked her with fake thorns, which wouldn't draw blood."
Then I burned her at the stake as a witch. The whole thing took no more than a day, and do you know how much the locals paid me? Twenty-three pounds.
A school principal wouldn't earn that much in a year, but this is too slow. The London aristocracy spend far more lavishly, and I need more compelling evidence."
"Shameless."
Ritsuka said coldly, she didn't want to look at this guy anymore. In her opinion, Hopkins and his loyal followers who served him and knew what they were doing were the ones who should be hanged.
Hopkins stood up with a cold smile, pulled out his gun and pointed it at Bai Mo. Bai Mo naturally didn't care about being pointed at; it was more ridiculous than a child pointing a foam sword at an adult.
Hopkins, however, felt that he had only used that method once. Moreover, he hadn't destroyed the guns but attacked the people, meaning the bullets could still kill these wizards.
He was overjoyed with his discovery.
"So, either serve me, or you all die here."
Just then, a figure appeared inside the house, Queen of Sheba said with some helplessness:
"Abigail isn't in prison. She was indeed arrested, but she was taken away quickly. The cover-up wasn't very good; I'll find her soon enough. What about your situation?"
Bai Mo stood up and coldly addressed Hopkins, who was startled by the appearance of the Queen of Sheba and was repeatedly pulling the trigger:
"It will be resolved soon."
"Damn wizards, fire! Fire! Kill these wizards, kill them all!"
Hopkins immediately burst through the door and ordered everyone to fire on the house and the remaining Chaldea in the plaza. However, what happened next far exceeded his expectations.
The guns in the guards' hands were all disassembled into pieces as if they were broken glass. Hopkins's personal guards were all thrown out alive by Bai Mo, their bones broken and their tendons snapped, crashing to the ground.
"Mash Hopkins, you're even more arrogant than I thought. Perhaps years of treating people like fools have made you lose sight of yourself."
But I know you very well.
Bai Mo waved his hand, and a whooshing sound came from the air as a huge desk fell to the ground. It was Hopkins ' desk. Bai Mo kicked it and smashed it to pieces, sending wood chips flying and hundreds of Spanish silver dollars scattering out.
The moonlight shone on the silver coins, drawing greedy glances from everyone around.
In 1692, this was a huge sum of money. One Spanish silver dollar was equivalent to one pound, four pounds could buy a cow, and one pound was equivalent to several weeks' wages for an ordinary laborer.
Bai Mo grabbed Hopkins by the neck and lifted him up alive. Then, he grabbed Hopkins ' cheeks and fed the silver coins into the man's mouth one by one.
"Take a good look at these cute little things. Each one is stained with blood. Compared to the pain you have caused them, it is nothing."
Slice you open with a blunt blade, then burn you to death. I don't even want to say anything more to you; killing you directly would be too cheap.
As the last silver coin fell, Hopkins ' eyes nearly bulged out. Silver coins of this era were not perfectly flat and were quite heavy. Hopkins distinctly felt his stomach bleeding from the impact of these objects.
Bai Mo tossed him out like trash; he rolled a long way on the grass, his hat flying off and revealing his sparse head.
"Oh! Damn it, come help me quickly, I need a doctor, hurry, ah!"
Hopkins roared and howled, but after a while, he realized that no one came to his rescue. Most of his trusted men had broken their bones, and only Salem's guards remained.
But no one moved; everyone stared at Hopkins like a flock of vultures surrounding a dying creature.
He instantly realized that Bai Mo had just stuffed that wealth into his stomach in front of everyone. Save him? Why save him? Would he get a single silver coin for it?
They were waiting, waiting for Hopkins to die, and then the wealth would naturally become ownerless. These Puritans pursued poverty all day long, but if they could be rich, who would want to be poor?
Die, just die already! We didn't kill them anyway, so why should we save them?
"You bunch of bastards! I'm here to save you! Damn it, you're all accomplices of the witches! If I die, the government won't let you get away with this!"
A sweet taste welled up inside Hopkins, and he realized that his stomach had started bleeding. Worse still, there was nothing good to eat in this godforsaken place, and his stomach acid began to reflux.
If this continues, he will only die from stomach bleeding or metal poisoning. He kept breathing, recalling his past medical knowledge.
"Sure, I have bandages and medical supplies on me. You can do it, Mash Hopkins. Make an incision, take out the money, and do some emergency bandaging. They won't kill me; as long as I survive, they'll treat me for a silver dollar."
As Hopkins pondered this, he took out his medical kit, but the emergency knife inside was gone.
He searched his entire body, but found nothing—not even a spare combat knife or anything else. Everything had been turned to sand by Bai Mo, except for one thing.
With despair in his eyes, Hopkins pulled out the knife that had just grazed Ritsuka's cheek. It was the knife he used to identify witches; if it made a cut on a person and didn't draw blood, the witch was someone who should be burned at the stake.
This knife was a blunt, unsharpened blade.
Looking at the smooth blade, his face was reflected, along with the countless people he had harmed and who had died tragically. On the blade, Hopkins's jaw was clenched, his eyes were bloodshot, and tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.
The piercing howls lasted for a very long time.