From Secret Clan to the Divine Dynasty

He then recalled those auctioned individuals of foreign races with a hint of sympathy but knew he couldn’t play the role of the “Savior”.

Suddenly, the image of that exceptionally beautiful elf under the moonlight emerged in his mind.

Byrne shook his head, muttering to himself, “That should have been our last meeting. I hope she doesn’t end up in those people’s hands.”

Once, in his younger years, he had harbored impractical hopes—even romantic thoughts—of reuniting with the elf.

But after marriage, only Margaret had a place in the depths of Byrne’s heart.

“That auction at the Alchemy Council… I wonder who is behind it all. I’m afraid I might have to come here again.”

Just as he was about to leave for good, he suddenly stared at the dark gold mask for a long moment, then abruptly stopped and quickly turned back into the deserted alley.

He put on the mask and re-entered the porch, facing the puzzled silver-faced attendants.

Byrne spoke in an exceedingly calm tone, “I’d like to purchase a few more alchemical masks with ‘concealment’ effects.”

The auction had already ended, so normally one would expect guests not to come back and to leave hurriedly, as if fleeing a dangerous den.

However, Byrne was one of the few guests who kept returning.

Upon his request to buy more alchemical masks, the silver-faced attendants quickly recovered.

A very tall, leading silver-faced attendant stepped forward, bowed slightly, and replied most politely.

“I apologize, but our masks are limited to one per invited guest and are not sold in surplus.”

“I see, I understand now.”

Actually, Byrne was not surprised by the answer; his sudden idea had been just an attempt.

After all, the ‘concealment’ effect of the alchemical masks was far too practical.

The leading attendant spoke with a soft voice, a hint of amusement continuing,

“Esteemed guest, there is something important I must inform you: the ‘concealment’ effect of the alchemical mask only works here. It’s best not to use it to handle matters outside.”

Byrne fell into thought, feeling a deep sense of disappointment toward the alchemical mask.

He quickly understood the reasoning behind it.

Otherwise, whenever people wanted to do something covert, they would don the mask of the Alchemy Council, and the so-called secret organization would become almost universally known.

Leaving the dark alley, Byrne got onto the prepared carriage, removing the dark gold mask and placing it in its special box.

The coachman, in charge of driving the carriage, was Theo, the captain of the guard who had worked for the Fischer family for many years and had been Byrne’s swordsmanship teacher before.

Theo had been a boatswain, working for sea merchant John for over a decade until he almost lost his life in a shipwreck and refused to set sail again.

Several years ago, as his savings dwindled, he sought new employment with the Fischer family through John’s introduction due to his skilled hand and rich experience, ultimately appointed by Lucius to be the family’s Guards Captain.

After returning to the inn, Byrne didn’t go to sleep immediately but pondered visiting Mr. Gold the next day to discuss the food processing factory matter.

The money had been spent; he needed to outright refuse the invitation to invest in the food processing factory.

The night had grown deep, and after Byrne finished thinking, he went to sleep, waking up after 8 in the morning.

However, Mr. Gold was a creature of the night, without a morning or noon to his days, rising in the afternoon, so now was not the time to visit him.

He contemplated his next steps:

“Having traveled from Nasir to Fein City, it’s been such a long journey. The guards and servants are all tired. Let’s rest another day and visit my parents-in-law and Baron Hoffman of the Hoffman family the day after tomorrow.”

Travel by carriage was indeed troublesome, and Byrne couldn’t help but think how much faster travel would be with the luxury of spells.

The expenditures of the Fischer family at the auction were significant; the goods would be delivered to Nasir within half a month.

It wasn’t until after 3 in the afternoon that Byrne, along with his guard and servants, set out by carriage to Mr. Gold’s villa in the city center.

“I am Byrne Fischer. I wish to have an audience with Mr. Gold, as there are some matters I would like to discuss in detail.”

Byrne announced his name and soon was welcomed by the steward and waited in the drawing room.

The polite steward approached and said with a smile to Byrne, who he already knew well,

“Mr. Byrne, we meet again. Mr. Gold mentioned that he could see you in the study in about ten minutes. Around five o’clock, Mr. Gold has other guests to receive, so he won’t keep you for dinner.”

Half an hour would likely be enough for the conversation, Byrne reasoned.

Due to the profitable collaboration with the Fischer family, both parties naturally found each other more and more agreeable to the eye.

Over the course of four years, his relationship with Mr. Gold grew stronger.

Byrne was well aware that much of the money Mr. Gold had made for the Fischer family had actually gone to Viscount Bast.

Viscount Bast Leone was the head of the “Lion clan,” Mr. Gold’s brother-in-law, and also the lord of Fein City, who had just turned fifty-three this year and was still in a very vigorous stage.

He had long since reached Level 2, and was even a powerful Knight of the Transmutation elite, although it was virtually impossible for him to advance to Monarch in his lifetime.

The Leone family’s stable inheritance of two Extraordinary bloodlines, “Bronze Lion” and “Graystone Giant Ape,” both stemmed from the power of high-level magic beast Bloodlines.

Also, the Leone family had a seventeen percent chance of inheriting a “protect” type spellcasting talent.

The entire Lion clan had been operating in Fein City for over a hundred years, and the core family members had branched out to nearly a hundred.

In comparison, the foundation and influence of the Eagle clan were much weaker. It could basically be said that on paper, their strength was no match for the Leone family.

Their biggest trump card was the backing of Earl Hovern, the East Coast Governor.

Although at banquets, Earl Hovern always seemed chummy with Viscount Bast, and on the surface, even longtime intimate friends for many years.

However, in the upper circles of the East Coast, it was clear to everyone that the sparks of tension between Earl Hovern and Viscount Bast had long since exploded everywhere, and nowadays the various industries owned by the Lion clan were being eroded step by step.

So far, Viscount Bast and the family behind him had not been seriously hurt, as Mr. Gold’s ability to do business and amass wealth was extremely strong, always handling the main business deals of the Lion clan.

Ten minutes later, Byrne looked up at the naval clock on the wall; it was just past four o’clock.

He made his way familiarly to the villa’s second floor and gently knocked on the study door, but he did not hear Mr. Gold’s voice calling “come in” with its usual low timbre.

Byrne paused, “Profound Memory” showed that Mr. Gold always called “come in,” today was different.

Then he heard a “crack” as something shattered, sensing something was wrong, he pushed the door and entered.

“Mr. Gold…”

Byrne was about to speak but stopped short, his gaze gradually turning somber as his eyebrows slightly knitted together.

Something was wrong.

The massive body, weighing hundreds of pounds, lay supine on the floor, the bald man’s eyes staring fixatedly at the ceiling, his gaze filled with intense anger and lingering immense fear, as if he had seen the most terrifying thing in the world.

There was a clear bullet hole at his temple, and plasma was oozing out.

An incredibly exquisite alchemical flintlock lay fallen beside Mr. Gold’s hand, with the residual smell of smoke still hanging in the air.

Dead!

“Damn it!”

Byrne took a deep breath, not wanting to touch anything, he cautiously moved back, suspecting the murderer might still be nearby.

“Mr. Byrne, what are you doing here?”

The sudden appearance of a voice nearby made Byrne flinch, and he immediately turned to see two people.

One was Mr. Gold’s butler, and the other was the local sheriff of Fein City, an Extraordinary Exponent Knight of the Transmutation class from the Lion clan, Viscount Bast’s third brother, Renzo.

Sheriff Renzo, clad in a black leather jacket and sporting a two-pronged mustache, looked quite stern.

Wondering why they had suddenly come here, Byrne said after a moment of silence, “Mr. Gold is dead, the murderer might still be nearby.”

Both the butler and Sheriff Renzo were completely stunned.

“Mr. Gold is dead? What on earth are you talking about!” Sheriff Renzo roared.

The two of them hurried into the study and were shocked at the sight before them.

Mr. Gold’s hefty corpse was right in front of them; everything was too shocking!

The butler began to cry, shaking his head continuously, “Oh Lord of Salvation, why has this happened! Impossible!”

Byrne paused a moment, then reminded again, “The murderer might still be nearby, we must be careful, they may attack again.”

“Nothing will happen, Mr. Byrne, with me here the murderer won’t succeed,” Sheriff Renzo quickly regained his composure, and then his voice confidently reassured him.

Just as Byrne was about to nod, he saw Sheriff Renzo decisively and swiftly pulling out the alchemical flintlock from his waistband and, without hesitation, pressed it against his head, the icy-hard sensation chilling to the bone.

“Don’t move!”