Chapter 577 - 27: Suggestion

Chapter 577: Chapter 27: Suggestion

’The worst part was, if Murphy had gone and been easily subdued, then he, who was now implicated...’

Anvil didn’t dare to think any further.

He stood up, walked to the window, and gazed out at the sky as it slowly began to lighten.

The streets were empty in the early morning, save for the occasional homeless person curled up in a corner, looking like a pile of tattered burlap sacks.

Anvil grew increasingly uneasy.

That uneasiness was like an invisible hand gripping his heart, tightening its hold bit by bit.

He didn’t know what was going to happen.

But he knew something had already happened.

Time ticked by, second by second.

The horizon in the East began to turn a pearly white, then a faint orange-red, and finally a dazzling gold.

The Sun rose.

Anvil remained at the window. He hadn’t slept all night; his eyes were bloodshot, and dark stubble dotted his chin.

He stared toward the manor, waiting.

There was no movement.

Still nothing.

’Could it really be that nothing happened?’

’Did Murphy really just leave on his own?’

Anvil took a deep breath and turned toward his bed.

’Forget it. Since nothing’s wrong, I’ll get some sleep first.’

He was exhausted.

Anvil collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to take off his clothes. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep almost instantly.

Yet, not even ten minutes later...

"Boss! Boss!"

A flurry of urgent footsteps and shouts erupted from downstairs, piercing the quiet of the early morning.

Anvil’s eyes snapped open, and he shot up from the bed.

The surge of anger he felt was instantly suppressed by the memory of the previous night’s events.

He took a deep breath, jumped barefoot from the bed, and yanked open the door.

In the hallway, Tommy was stumbling up the stairs, his face a strange mix of fear and excitement.

"B-Boss!" he panted, pointing downstairs. "Lord Rodrick is here!"

Anvil’s pupils contracted sharply.

’Lord Rodrick?’

’He actually came here in person?’

"Why is his lordship here?" Anvil grabbed Tommy’s arm, just as he had the day before.

Tommy grimaced in pain. "I-I don’t know! He’s in the living room downstairs. He said he wants to see you!"

But Anvil didn’t let go. His heart was hammering so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest.

’Lord Rodrick came in person.’

’What does this mean?’

’It means something definitely happened last night.’

Anvil took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He rushed out of the bedroom and hurried toward the stairs.

In the living room downstairs, several of his men stood around awkwardly, barely daring to breathe.

Rodrick stood in the center of the living room. He wore a dark gray formal suit, his hair was impeccably combed, and a delicate bow tie was knotted at his collar. He looked even more formal than usual.

Anvil rushed before Rodrick and bowed low, his voice trembling with nervousness.

"Lord Rodrick! W-why did you come in person? If you needed anything, you could have just sent a messenger. There was no need to..."

He trailed off, his words stopping abruptly.

He realized that Rodrick wasn’t looking at him.

The First-Level Wizard simply stood there in the center of the room, his gaze fixed on an empty corner. His brow was slightly furrowed, as if he were lost in thought.

Or perhaps he was just spacing out.

Anvil didn’t dare say another word.

He remained in his bow, completely still, as cold sweat began to bead on his forehead.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Rodrick still didn’t react.

Anvil’s panic mounted. He didn’t know if he should speak again, straighten up, or do something—anything.

He only knew that Lord Rodrick’s silence was more terrifying than any angry shout could ever be.

’It’s over.’

’It must be because of last night.’

’That Murphy fellow must have gone to the manor.’

’And he must have angered the Lord and been... dealt with.’

’Now his lordship is here, and he’s definitely come to hold me accountable.’

Anvil’s mind raced, and all sorts of terrible thoughts flashed before his eyes like a macabre slideshow.

He thought of death.

He thought of the agony of being tortured by a Wizard’s Spell.

He thought of becoming one of those mangled components discarded in the sewers.

His legs began to buckle, and he almost fell to his knees.

But then, he suddenly remembered something.

’The mother and daughter.’

’Martha and Lina.’

’When Murphy showed up, he made a point of taking that mother and daughter with him.’

’Murphy had them change into clean clothes, treated their wounds, and even gave them food. He obviously cared a great deal about them.’

’A Wizard paying so much attention to a destitute mother and daughter... could it be they have some kind of special bloodline?’

’If that’s the case, this might be my only lifeline.’

Anvil gritted his teeth and, steeling himself, finally spoke.

"L-Lord..."

Rodrick still didn’t respond.

Anvil swallowed hard, his voice even more cautious than before.

"My lord, haven’t you always tasked me with searching for special bloodlines?"

Rodrick’s eyes twitched slightly.

A flicker of joy ignited in Anvil’s heart, and he quickly continued.

"I made a discovery just yesterday. A mother and daughter. They were just paupers from the lowest rungs of our district, and they owed a debt. My men were about to take them as payment when Murphy appeared. He saved them, had them change into clean clothes, treated their wounds..."

As he spoke, he discreetly shot a look at Tommy, who was standing in the corner.

Tommy froze for a second before understanding. He then slipped silently out of the living room.

Anvil continued, "A Wizard, showing such special concern for paupers... I thought there might be something special about them. Especially the little girl. She’s thin and frail, but her eyes are exceptionally bright. I suspect they might have some kind of special bloodline..."

Rodrick’s gaze finally focused.

He looked at Anvil, his brow creased.

"Murphy? Bloodline?"

Anvil nodded eagerly. "Y-yes, my lord! Didn’t you once mention that those with special bloodlines can attract the attention of higher beings? The way that Murphy treated them... it was very unusual..."

The color began to shift on Rodrick’s face.

He seemed to recall something.

"Where are they now?"

Before Anvil could answer, the living room door was pushed open.

Tommy walked in with two of his men. They were dragging a woman, who was clutching a little girl tightly to her chest.

It was Martha and Lina.

Martha’s face was a mask of panic, and a spot of blood was seeping through the gauze bandage on her forehead.

She held Lina protectively, her terrified gaze darting between Anvil and Rodrick.

Lina buried her face in her mother’s chest, her small body trembling uncontrollably.

A broad smile instantly plastered itself across Anvil’s face. He turned to Rodrick and said:

"My lord! Look, it’s them! I’ve had them brought here. You may do with them as you please! I knew they were unusual from the start, so I kept them here just for you..."

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence.

"You bastard!"

A furious roar exploded in the living room like a clap of thunder.

The smile on Anvil’s face froze instantly.

He looked up and saw that the color had completely drained from Rodrick’s face.

It wasn’t red with anger, but white with terror.

Rodrick was trembling all over, and the finger he pointed at Anvil was shaking.

"You... Do you have any idea what you’re doing?!"

His voice was a shrill crack, laced with a terror that bordered on a complete breakdown.

"You dare lay a hand on people brought here by Mr. Murphy?!"

Anvil was utterly dumbfounded.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but not a single word would come out.

Rodrick ignored him.

He hurried over to Martha and her daughter, bowed, and spoke in a tone Anvil had never heard before—one that was almost servile.

"My apologies, you two. I am so sorry you were frightened."

Martha was stunned.

She clutched Lina tighter, staring at the well-dressed, distinguished-looking man before her, her eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and fear.

Rodrick straightened up, took a deep breath, and ordered an attendant behind him:

"Take them to my manor."

"Arrange the best room, the best food, and the best care for them."

"If anyone dares to lay another finger on them—"

He turned his head, his icy gaze sweeping over Anvil and his petrified men.

"I will have his life."

Anvil’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees on the floor.