From a distance, Buma Town looked quiet and peaceful.
But as one got closer, the quietness became bizarre.
There was not a single sound.
There were no insects chirping, no dogs barking, and the security guard who should have been at the entrance of the town was also absent.
Peters immediately stopped the carriage.
He gripped the hilt with one hand and knocked on the carriage door with the other.
At Peters’s first knock, Jason had already pushed open the carriage door and stepped down, and even before that, he had been carefully sniffing the air around him.
But new powers and organizations had already been established.
Just like him, a ‘new noble.’
They were all profiteers of the last war.
And he was even luckier.
He had inherited his father’s ‘spoils of war’ and thus had become a baron among the new nobility.
Pondering the significance of this mission,
and scheming for the greatest benefit, the baron slowly began to speak.
“1, intensify the search for members of the ‘Revival Society.’
“2, verify whether the ‘Pied Piper’ is real or fake.”
“3, blockade all news here, and deal with all those who escape.”
A calm voice uttered incredibly cruel commands.
His adjutant showed no surprise whatsoever.
He was well aware of his superior’s style of conduct.
After bowing in affirmation, the adjutant turned and left the tent.
The baron sat back down in his chair and picked up the secret correspondence on the table once more.
These letters came from Jedanlan.
They provided detailed records of Peters’s recent years.
Were it not for the conclusive testimonies of dozens of witnesses, the baron would never have believed that the heir to ‘Cat Hole’ had chosen to become a coachman and thus had his people contact the secret agents in Jedanlan.
The baron knew his opportunity had come.
Looking at the secret letter detailing the ‘Cat Hole’ heir’s role as a coachman for a ‘Griffin Camp’ graduate en route to ‘Hans’ port, the baron couldn’t help but smile.
That ‘Griffin Camp’ graduate was of no consequence whatsoever.
Though it was ‘Griffin Camp,’ it was just a small place like Jedanlan and not Golsai’s ‘Griffin Camp.’
He needed the heir to ‘Cat Hole.’
That individual coveted by many great figures within the Federation.
He had already dispatched a team of trusted men to capture him.
Just capturing him or bringing back his body would be enough to draw significant attention in the ranks of the new nobility.
Perhaps even his title could be elevated.
Lord Malor, Viscount?
No, Lord Viscount Malor!
Thinking of his bright future, the baron’s upturned lips took on a greater curve.
But the next moment, the smile on the baron’s face froze.
His complexion turned deathly pale.
A mouthful of fresh blood sprayed out.
But Baron Malor could not be bothered to wipe away the blood; he lowered his head to twist the ring on his left index finger.
It was the ring he used to communicate with his trusted men.
He needed to know what had happened, why someone had died.
But just as his finger was about to touch the ring—
Splurt, splurt, splurt!
Nineteen consecutive mouthfuls of blood uncontrollably burst forth.
If the baron’s face had been pale before, now it was as ghastly as that of a corpse.
Furthermore, he could no longer sit steadily.
And just like that, with a thump, he fell to the ground.
The guards on duty outside heard the noise and immediately rushed in.
“Someone come quickly, the baron has fainted!”