Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 40

“What did you put in the tea?” Dwight tightened his finally dried cloak. His light golden hair cast a faint halo under the moonlight, making his expressionless face appear particularly indifferent.

“Just a bit of strong liquor to warm the body,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said casually. “It has a good sedative effect, perfect for Tom tired from crying.”

Behind them, the light leaking from the mill was dim, and the sleeping Tom was oblivious, curled up beside the stove, trying to soak up some warmth before the fire went out completely.

The two quietly crossed the silent village, whispering their thoughts to each other.

“Only the darkest of black magic would use living sacrifices,” Charlie analyzed. “Tom said we’re at least 140 miles from Syriacochi, far from the central nobility’s power. There might be a few small towns nearby, so it’s possible to deceive country girls looking for work. The manor is highly autonomous, so there haven’t been any slip-ups…”

Unlike the relatively stable situation in Pennigra, the continent of Doran had been plagued by wars due to fragmented kingdoms, breeding seeds of misfortune beyond death and poverty—it was also a breeding ground for illegal faiths. During his stay in Mokwen’s Royal City, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper noticed that apart from the widespread Church of Light, the spiritual beliefs among the citizens were quite mixed, including some sects deemed by those in power as worshiping evil gods, which followers called the New Faith. In less affluent and stable areas, these misleading beliefs were a lifeline for the common folk.

“Is the lord of this manor a follower of the New Faith?” Dwight said wearily. “Either way, it’s none of our business.”

Rather than peculiar cases of missing women, he was more concerned about meeting up with his Knight Commander. The Duke was confident in his combat and survival skills, but that didn’t mean he liked to handle everything personally, especially now, with only a clumsy Rabbit Head by his side.

This wasn’t to say that Charlie was an unqualified companion. On the contrary, he was accustomed to treating everyone around him with meticulous care. Even without servants, the shopkeeper could manage the Duke from head to toe under limited conditions. But Charlie and the Knight Commander were fundamentally different; Shivers was wholeheartedly dedicated to his master, but this Rabbit Head—Dwight still couldn’t fully see through him. His rabbit brain seemed like a mask, hiding something deep beneath his demeanor.

This was a trait all nobles disliked. They preferred simple-minded fools who were easy to manipulate and control, like the sobbing Tom…

“The guys in the woods mentioned a witch,” Charlie said frankly, unaware of Dwight’s complex thoughts. “We’re close to Elena’s territory, and witches are territorial. If Elena is still alive, she likely wouldn’t allow another of her kind on her doorstep.”

“Do you think those bodies are related to Elena?” Dwight frowned. “If so, she’s probably not the little schoolgirl you knew—”

The Duke paused, then added in a mockingly sweet tone, “Anymore.”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper tipped his hat and smiled at the Duke. “Your Grace, I understand the danger she poses. Right now, we’re on our own, and whether it’s Elena or not, confronting a witch head-on is unwise, but a side investigation could yield useful information and help us reconnect with our lost companions.”

The Duke looked at him with a “go ahead, I’m listening” expression on his face.

“First rule of getting lost: don’t wander off. Stay where you are and wait for the lord to return and find you.” The rabbit-headed shopkeeper winked. “So before we reunite with everyone, it’s best not to stray more than 15 miles from the point where we got separated…”

“Cut the crap. You just want to know the truth about that mansion,” Dwight said expressionlessly. Growing up in a superior family environment didn’t make the Duke a sheltered flower. On the contrary, learning how to survive in dangerous or extreme conditions was a mandatory part of the Dwight family curriculum—only for heirs.

As far as family succession was concerned, aside from natural changes, the presence of the head of the family was always the primary priority. After determining the Knight Commander was lost, the Duke had already left codes only a Dwight family knight could decipher, and if Shivers wasn’t too far off, he would eventually find his way.

“Right,” Charlie said cheerfully. “My intuition tells me this information will be useful.”

The Duke crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “Alright, assuming your intuition is correct, how do we “investigate sideways”? No matter if it’s a witch or a whore, they won’t be unprotected for us to just spy on.”

A quarter of an hour later, under the cover of the last of the night and roadside bushes, the two quietly ascended a hillside. The mansion, unlit, sat like a quiet, black beast perched halfway up the hill, silently and dangerously watching everything that approached.

Charlie didn’t choose the main road. The manor owner usually had a security system set up far from the mansion’s outer perimeter, and he didn’t want to risk it.

When they stopped a distance from the servant quarters and stables around the mansion, they took a very thin notebook from their coats. His fingers were long and nimble, almost not needing illumination to quickly fold a beautiful little bird.

“A friend and I once specialized in studying the transformations of magical formations in Monterey. By making slight adjustments to the basic formula, there’s a good chance of obtaining additional benefits… I call this transformation formula the ‘Gray Sentinel’,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said proudly, pulling out a dry-ink pen and quickly drawing a magical formation on the wings of a small bird. “It doesn’t require borrowing or converting life, has no attack capability, but possesses a very sensitive warning mechanism, and can explore within a limited range on behalf of its master. My friend likes to use human-shaped paper figures for the operation, but I think small animal forms are fuller.”

Dwight watched his movements without speaking. Although the rabbit-headed shopkeeper had never shown any extraordinary magical talent, his thinking pattern and theoretical application in magic were undoubtedly exceptional. Dwight had seen many great mages who stubbornly believed magic was a divine gift, and any research or experimentation born of skepticism was a blasphemy against the gods. If those old coots saw Rabbit Head so casually altering magical formations, even if not for any critical purposes, it would be enough to raise their blood pressure and make them scream heresy…

Charlie didn’t notice the Duke’s slight distraction. As he finished the last stroke, the paper bird immediately fluttered its wings, lively in his palm.

“Your name is,” Charlie glanced at the bushes, “‘Berry’. I need you to go into that mansion above for me and…”

Before he could finish, the little bird suddenly trembled nervously, as if an invisible hurricane was brewing in Charlie’s palm—next second, its sharp beak opened wide, and a burst of flame shot out from the tips of its wings, engulfing the half-palm-sized bird almost instantly.

“What does this mean?” Dwight frowned. “Is self-immolation part of the magic too?”

Charlie stared at the little ash left in his palm for half a second, then suddenly grabbed Dwight and ran back the way they came. His top hat dangerously wobbled as he ran, but Charlie ignored it, clutching Dwight’s wrist tightly and running as if the mansion would explode and swallow them at any moment.

Without needing an explanation, Dwight also immediately realized something was wrong. He wanted to look back to see what had happened, but Charlie, holding him tightly, suddenly made a sharp turn and pulled him into a small hollow, then forcefully suppressed his heavy breathing.

The Duke followed his gaze down to the foothill. The sky before dawn was still dark, the creatures on the farm were all asleep, and it seemed no different from before. But on the distant road, several faint lights flickered like will-o’-wisps.

Although dim, the lights moved quickly, growing larger in just a few breaths. By the time the two were hiding behind a large stone covered with wet, slippery moss, the sharp-eyed Duke could make out that these were wind lamps swaying with the jolting of a carriage.

It was still not daylight. Who would visit this manor before dawn? Was it the owner returning? Dwight withdrew his gaze and looked at Charlie. The rabbit-headed shopkeeper, unusually out of breath, was taking out several crystal vials of different sizes and shapes from his coat. By the moonlight, some bottles contained strangely colored liquids, while others clearly held man-made crystals. Whether due to the cold night or nervousness, his fingertips trembled almost imperceptibly, but he skillfully poured the contents of the vials into a large-bellied bottle. In the eerily quiet surroundings, the clinking of the vials was particularly clear. Charlie quickly screwed on the cap of the large bottle and peeked out.

The carriage was nearing the foothill. “I’ll explain later—” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said quickly, shaking the large bottle vigorously, then unscrewing the cap and handing it to the Duke.

“Take a sip, just a small one,” he urged. “Quick.”

“Wait… What is this?” Dwight almost instinctively resisted. As Duke Dwight, he would never drink an unknown substance under such mysterious circumstances.

“It’s an invisibility potion.” The shopkeeper became more frantic, almost pressing the bottle to the Duke’s lips. “You don’t understand. I—we can’t be seen. They must not find us.”

“They” were undoubtedly the sudden appearance of the carriage. But it was just a carriage—why was Charlie acting as if he suddenly faced a great enemy? From such a distance, he couldn’t possibly know who was sitting in the carriage, and yet the usually composed Charlie was nervous. This sudden change was prompted by… the paper bird’s warning? Why the warning? They were from Pennigra. What force on the continent of Doran could pose a threat to them?

Dwight’s light-colored eyes narrowed slightly as he took the vial but didn’t drink immediately.

“Who’s in the carriage?”

His fingers touched the shopkeeper’s, which were as cold as ice in the middle of a winter river.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper withdrew his hand and said in a low, sigh-like tone, “They are the ‘Lamp Bearers’.”

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