Keeping his smile on and calming his mood, Emlyn replied:
"I can find helpers of a sufficient level."
He didn't want to rely too much on the vampire clan's power in this matter. If he did, he would undoubtedly be reduced to a liaison, an onlooker, and a messenger, without any say in the final distribution of the spoils.
Furthermore, among the dukes and marquises of the vampire clan, there were many direct descendants who wished to advance to a demigod and become a count.
At first, Emlyn believed in his identity as the vampire messiah and that the higher-ups would treat every member and incident fairly. However, as "The Hanged Man" repeatedly analyzed the hidden intentions behind the orders, actions, and words of high-ranking vampires like Marquis Nibai, Emlyn gradually became more wary.
"Sherlock Moriarty?"
Emlyn was confused for a moment and adjusted his sitting posture.
"Why do you think it's him?"
In the past, he would have simply asked, "Why mention Sherlock Moriarty? He's been away from
In this 'Wraith's' eyes, is Sherlock Moriarty not simple? Hmm, he's indeed not simple… As he spoke, Emlyn made a guess in his mind.
Hearing Emlyn's question, a strange look flashed in Maric's eyes, as if he were seeing this vampire viscount for the first time.
He quickly suppressed the surface anomaly and said in a completely flat tone:
"We need some time to consider it."
"I hope next time we meet, you can provide a more convincing plan."
"No problem." Emlyn breathed a sigh of relief.
He stood up immediately and gave a very gentlemanly bow.
After agreeing on a means of contact, he put on his silk top hat, turned around, and walked out of the room.
On his way back home, Emlyn couldn't help but run through his initial plan in his mind:
As long as I reach a cooperation agreement with a demigod of the Asceticism branch of the
Using the requirement of the cooperative partner as a reason, I can reject the involvement of the clan's demigods and prevent them from interfering directly…
Hmm, to reach an agreement, I have to show enough strength to convince Maric and the others… I can only post a mission in the
The biggest problem now is that I can't offer enough compensation…
I can only try to get an advance, or give a promise and pay it off bit by bit after I become a count…
Thinking of this, Emlyn suddenly felt glad he had joined the Tarot Club.
It was the only organization he knew of where one could exchange future promises for present resources.
Inside the vampire clan, within the churches of the orthodox gods, one had to accumulate merits step by step before they could queue up for Beyonder characteristics and advancement rituals. Sometimes, a Beyonder might not gather enough contributions in their entire lifetime.
It was like a credit loan guaranteed by "Mr. Fool." He could use it to issue missions, and then repay the loan in one go or in installments after successfully advancing… Emlyn habitually framed the nature of things using concepts he was familiar with.
Although he himself had never taken a loan from a bank, some vampires had extensive experience and frequently exchanged tips.
—Most of them had fixed, very expensive hobbies, and the precious items they collected were hard to liquidate quickly, forcing them to rely on borrowing from acquaintances, bank loans, and the like to keep their finances moving.
Emlyn recalled a vampire who wasn't good at financial management and purely made a living as a doctor. He had taken a liking to a valuable work of art and bought it with a loan from a Backlund bank.
Afterwards, unwilling to give up his mortgaged property, he relied on his long lifespan and took a full two hundred years to pay it off in installments. Of course, nominally, it was the father dying and the son taking over, the son dying and the grandson taking over.
Emlyn's appraisal of this was: Very trustworthy.
.......
Outside Backlund, North Borough, Saint Samuel Church.
Citizens lined up in several columns, receiving baked bread, dried mushrooms, preserved fruit, and other food from the hands of the workers of the "Loen Poor Relief Fund."
Their queue stretched from the church entrance to the square, winding around several times. At a glance, it was a dense mass of heads.
Audrey stood on the step behind Melissa, taking everything in.
She saw citizens with sallow faces, their eyes brimming with longing. She saw mothers holding babies, coaxing them while anxiously surveying the line that seemed barely shorter. She saw many people in fine clothes, formal suits, and long dresses. She saw some pressing down their hat brims or wearing veils as if they didn't want anyone around them to recognize them.
From time to time, someone would try to break the order, but the pastors and police officers maintaining the line would drag them out and send them to the back.
Portions of food were given out, and the cloth bags piled behind the long table deflated one by one before becoming empty.
Finally, all the food was distributed, but the long line had only reduced by half.
The citizens who hadn't received any relief couldn't help but show a mix of disappointment, frustration, reluctance, and pleading. However, they didn't shout or argue. They mechanically moved their feet and rushed towards other food distribution points.
They had experienced this too many times in the past month or two, well aware that an unnecessary emotional outburst would only waste their scarce stamina, preventing them from quickly rushing to another relief site or a cheap food stall.
At this point, they left the square with numb faces and slightly hollow eyes, like a horde of living corpses.
In the process, a woman holding a child stumbled and fell to the ground.
Her child immediately burst into loud cries, the sound clearly laced with pain.