Black Hearted Mage

Chapter 322: Termitomyces

"Hills, along with thirty-two paladins and a combat priest, are all dead. Their life plates shattered almost at the same time!"

A piercing, hoarse voice echoed beneath the temple's magnificent golden dome. Studded with countless gemstones, the dome refracted sunlight into a rainbow of colors, casting a halo across the pristine white tiles that covered the entire hall. Twelve pillars carved from a single block of moonstone surrounded the central platform. Each pillar was entwined with lifelike vines of pure gold, dotted with pigeon-blood-red gemstone fruits.

A figure shrouded in black robes slowly emerged from behind the Pope's throne, crafted from gold and gemstones. With each step, a shimmering frost formed beneath his feet, gleaming eerily in the dazzling holy light. The frost quickly dissolved into fine ice crystals, scattering across the velvet carpet on the ground—woven from the rarest amethyst sable fur, each inch worth hundreds of gold coins.

Beneath the throne, two high priests clad in silver-threaded robes and twelve cardinals held their breath. Their magnificent robes were embroidered with holy silver thread, and the holy emblems dangling from their chests, bathed in holy light for decades, shone with a mysterious aura under the eternal flame of the temple. They vaguely guessed the identity of the newcomer, a deep taboo of the Church of Saint Laurent. Yet, no one dared to act rashly, not only out of fear, but also because they could not forsake the gift bestowed by the temple—the essence of blood, the precious treasure that allowed them to continue living.

The holy stones inlaid in the four walls of the temple emit an alluring red light. It is the essence condensed from the power of faith of countless devout believers and is the supreme power they pursue throughout their lives.

The black-robed figure swept his cold gaze over the ornate garments of the crowd, his priceless jewels looking like mere dust. He slowly approached the Pope, the frost condensing under his feet leaving a glaring streak on the carpet. As he whispered in the Pope's ear, the chill of his breath dimmed the gemstones inlaid on the armrests of the Pope's throne. With that, he retreated to the back of the hall, disappearing behind a secret door carved from a single block of obsidian—a door inscribed with forbidden runes cast in holy silver, each stroke imbued with boundless power.

The Pope's expression shifted from gloomy to gloomy. The legendary gemstone atop the scepter in his hand, known as the "Eye of God," flickered uneasily. Hills's death had nothing to do with these elegantly dressed priests. His rage, unresolved in this temple crafted from the world's most precious materials, could only be expressed in a heavy sigh that echoed for a long time beneath the dome inlaid with countless pearls.

"Continue to discuss and report to me when you have the results!"

The Pope's deep, commanding voice echoed through the chamber. His sudden rise interrupted the bishops' thoughts. His usually hunched figure now stood erect, his golden scepter striking the ground with a resounding sound. His sharp gaze slowly swept over each cardinal present, and as everyone watched in astonishment, he casually brushed away the nonexistent dust from his robes. The scarlet and gold-embellished papal robes shimmered dimly in the light, billowing behind him as he turned, eventually disappearing through the secret door behind the throne.

There was a burst of gasps in the temple, and several cardinals exchanged glances. They finally confirmed that the aging and decadent appearance shown by the Pope in recent years was nothing more than an elaborate disguise to paralyze his political enemies.

Inside the secret room behind the hidden door, the Pope gazed at the massive map of the empire's territory on the wall. Rebuilding a smuggling network in the turbulent Roland Empire was harder than cultivating roses in the cold winter. Ever since Saint Laurent's new emperor implemented the "Iron Thorn Law," magical detection wards had been installed at all border checkpoints, and even the most secret underground channels were meticulously monitored by royal spies.

A heated discussion erupted within the temple once again. An archbishop spoke up, "At least we need to obtain hereditary nobility... Otherwise, smuggling contraband is just empty talk... An empty title like honorary nobility is completely useless. Without fiefdoms and real power, we can't even enter the porch of the Noble Council, let alone contact those ancient families who control the smuggling industry!"

The archbishops' brows furrowed ever deeper. It was impossible for the Saint Laurent Empire's spies to gain real power and nobility in the Roland Empire. The aristocratic lineage was strictly controlled by the House of Nobles, and even the channels for buying and selling official positions and nobility were completely cut off.

In the Roland Empire today, new nobles need to examine their ancestors for three generations and have various kinds of witnesses, which is far from being as simple as before.

"Hills is also quite powerful, plus there are 32 high-level paladins and a high-level combat priest. Together they are a considerable force. Who has the ability to kill them all at the same time?" An archbishop suddenly asked the others.

"It should be Carlos, the Roland Empire's spy chief. Rumor has it that he has over 500 high-level assassins under his command. He also controls the Roland Empire's Hawkeye and has tens of thousands of spies under his command. There's another rumor that doesn't need to be confirmed: Carlos has close ties with the Thorn Flower Trading Company. The weapons, equipment, and various poisons used by Hawkeye's assassins are all provided by the Thorn Flower Trading Company!"

In the temple, High Priest Floyd, who had been making speeches, spoke.

"It's the Thorn Flower Company again. The poison they provide is too strong. It's hard to survive if the skin is cut even a little. Drinking the antidote is useless!" An archbishop said nervously.

"It's about purifying the venom of the golden-eyed black devil snake, which can increase its toxicity two or three times. It's easier said than done. It's very difficult to collect the venom of the golden-eyed black devil snake. They will spray venom as soon as you get close to them. More than a dozen of our snake breeders have died!" explained an archbishop.

In the southeasternmost city of Hailansa, Caesars leaned against the window, gazing at the falling maple leaves in the courtyard, his fingertips gently tapping the oak tabletop. He had been waiting for nearly two weeks, but no one from the Church of Saint Roland had arrived. This made his deep eyes flash with a hint of disappointment that was hard to conceal.

The Baron's estate was being managed in an orderly manner. The inns, hostels, and carriage houses scattered throughout the city—these guise Baron Sesis used to monitor outsiders—had long been unprofitable businesses and were to be sold. Only the restaurant in the city, with its fragrant seafood aroma, and the precious sea fish shipped to Fire Maple City weekly, truly brought jingling business to the treasury.

"Master Mage, guests from Fire Maple City have arrived!"

Baron Sesis's double hunched over, his voice low, as if afraid to disturb the magical elements flowing in the air. This old man, who bore a striking resemblance to the Baron, was now rubbing his fingers nervously.

Kaisas raised his eyebrows, a playful smile playing on his lips: "You're here so quickly! You go and receive them first, I'll be right there."

The Hawkeye people were notified through magic communication just two days ago, but the spy chief arrived today.

After the double left the study, Caesars slowly stood up. He removed the elven mask, which emanated a faint blue light. As the mask left his hand, the wrinkles of the old man's face faded like the tide, revealing a youthful face with sharp edges. The plump puppy at his feet wagged its tail happily, following its owner closely as he walked towards the front yard.

When Caesars stepped into the living room, the stand-in, holding a teacup, suddenly looked up, clattering the cup onto the coffee table. He stared in disbelief at the handsome young man before him, seemingly no more than twenty-five or twenty-six years old—a stark contrast to the white-haired old mage he remembered. The scalding tea sloshed freely across the table, akin to his completely uncontrolled shock.

"Old Quinn, I thought it was Lord Carlos himself who came!"

Kaisas' voice was filled with obvious surprise, and his eyes darted back and forth at the white-haired old wizard in the living room. The deputy commander of the Hawkeye Organization was sitting upright in a carved armchair, his bony fingers tapping rhythmically on the tabletop.

"It would take six days to get here from Fire Maple City, even on the fastest magic horse," Old Quinn said slowly, pulling out a crystal ball from his bosom and playing with it. "If we take the official road, it would take at least ten days. Coincidentally, I was patrolling the southern border when I received Carlos's magical message." He suddenly looked up, his sharp eyes fixed on Caesar like a hawk. "Caesar, stop dawdling, and quickly retrieve Earl Soren's body. I need to confirm his identity first."

Caesars showed a hurt expression: "Old Quinn, you just don't trust me?"

He spread his hands out in a wronged manner, but still took out a corpse wearing only silk shorts from his storage ring.

Old Quinn immediately stood up and carefully examined the body. He first examined the middle finger of the corpse's right hand—there was a trace of the storage ring there. Then he squatted down and carefully examined the area behind the corpse's ear. Finally, he stood up, pulled out a shimmering magical painting from his pocket, and casually tossed it to Caesars.

"It's not that I don't trust you, it's that I don't trust myself." Old Quinn sighed, a rare look of fatigue appearing on his wrinkled face. "My deduction magic is never accurate enough. Sometimes even the most basic deductions go astray."

Caesars took the portrait and saw that the face of the person in the painting was about 70% similar to the "Sessis" lying on the ground. He stroked the edge of the portrait thoughtfully, feeling the subtle vibration unique to the magic ink.

Caesars winked at Cesis's stand-in, who nodded knowingly and then quickly left the living room, his footsteps gradually fading away in the corridor.

After confirming that no one was around, Caesars' fingers tapped unconsciously on the coffee table. He lowered his voice and said to Old Quinn, "Old Quinn, I've discovered something important. Many people within the Roland Empire are secretly colluding with Baron Cesis!"

He pulled a scroll of parchment from his bosom, slowly unfolded it, and continued, "According to the intelligence I have, the amount of contraband smuggled by Sesis into the Saint Laurent Empire is staggering." Caesars took out several samples from his storage ring and placed them one by one on the oak table in front of Old Quinn. "Look, this is a magic steel ingot, of extremely high purity; these are specially treated high-grade magical beast leathers; and these—these are all offensive magic scrolls crafted by high-level magicians."

Caesars pulled several more crystal bottles from his belt. The alchemical potions within glowed eerily in the candlelight. He pointed at several nearly identical plants. "Most worrying are these high-grade herbs. Judging by their size and growth patterns, they're clearly cultivated in the same magical herb garden. A contraband trade of this magnitude must be protected by the nobility."

Caesars looked at Old Quinn with sharp eyes. He clenched his fists and said, "Only by taking drastic measures against these traitors can we completely cut off this smuggling channel. This is why I contacted Hawkeye - we need solid evidence to make these parasites pay the price they deserve!"

Old Quinn nodded solemnly, picking up several contraband items and carefully examining them. Although the markings on the magic steel ingots had been removed, he had a vague idea of ​​their origin based on their purity and size. He also saw some clues about the herbs; these matters needed to be handled by Carlos.

"The magic scrolls and alchemical potions all have logos, originating from the Magic Guild and the Imperial Capital Magic Academy. But this doesn't prove they're colluding with the Saint Laurent Empire. The two magic factions have been selling these items all along, and anyone with gold coins can buy them!"

Old Quinn put down the magic scroll and took the magic crystal aside. All major magic shops sell magic items, and these cannot be used as proof.

Old Quinn stroked the untreated high-grade Warcraft leather in his hand. The rough touch reminded him of his days of hunting in the wilderness when he was young.

"These raw hides can be purchased directly from mercenary groups. Many large trading houses also keep them in stock year-round." He paused and placed the hides back on the table. "The tricky part now is the clues to the magic steel and high-grade herbs. To track them down, I'm afraid Carlos will have to visit the old emperor."

At this point, Old Quinn suddenly sneered: "The magic steel veins are not all controlled by the nobles. The royal family secretly controls the two richest veins!" There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, and a complex expression appeared on his wrinkled face.

Upon hearing this, Caesars stood up abruptly, nearly spilling the red wine in his crystal goblet. "What? The Roland Royal Family is funding the Saint Laurent Empire?" Disbelief was written all over his handsome face. "This is simply..." He couldn't find the right words, so he could only shake his head and smile bitterly.

"This is simply digging your own grave!" said Old Quinn.

"Now we're going to have a good show!"

Caesars suddenly smiled, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement. Old Quinn followed suit with a meaningful smile, pulling out the intricately engraved magical communication stone from his bosom. As he whispered, several eagle-eyed spies entered the living room and took away the contraband samples. A magical halo swirled around the communication stone, as this explosive news was being encrypted and transmitted to the headquarters in Fire Maple City.

As the magical light gradually faded, Old Quinn put away the communication stone and turned to look at Kaisas, who was still sipping his wine. "Kaisas, why are you still hanging around in Hailansa City? Are you waiting for those guys from the Church of Saint Laurent?"

Caesars swirled his glass, the scarlet wine gleaming amber in the candlelight. "Yes!" he replied nonchalantly, suddenly downing the wine in one gulp. "But I'm afraid I won't be able to wait."

"Of course I can't wait!"

Old Quinn walked to the window and looked towards the port. "The city of Hailansa is now strictly checking ships at sea. The sea route is no longer feasible. As for the land route... our people have already set up ambushes at various important roads. Unless the people from the Church of Saint Laurent can fly, otherwise..."

Before they finished speaking, the two smiled at each other, and the air was filled with tacit understanding.