Glen took his leave from Bayek, intent on retrieving the fair - haired lady in person.

  Moreover, he planned to obliterate the Punk family.

  The great deer hurtled along the Kingdom Avenue at its utmost speed. Glen, eschewing the carriage, rode solo upon its back.

  He pressed on without a moment's respite.

  Should the great deer grow weary, Glen would transform and carry the deer on his back for a spell. Their velocity was nothing short of meteoric, though somewhat comical.

  By the very next day, they reached the pre - arranged rendezvous point.

  Upon glimpsing Glen, Pernas rushed forward with excitement and enveloped him in a warm embrace.

  "Come now, you're rather pungent," Glen remarked bluntly, shattering the charged atmosphere.

  "It's all because of your instructions these past days!" The fair - haired lady pushed Glen away forcefully and stomped firmly on his instep.

  However, such a trifling pain was of little consequence to Glen, and he allowed her to vent her ire.

  "You're insufferable!" Pernas exclaimed, blushing with a mix of shame and annoyance as she saw Glen remain unfazed by her stomp and smile at her.

  "Is this how you repay your savior and strategist?" Glen feigned a wounded expression.

  The fair - haired lady then mumbled reluctantly, "Thank you..."

  "That's better. You're quite charming like this." Glen gently patted the fair - haired lady's slightly soiled tresses.

  The latter blushed even deeper but did not shy away.

  "Very well, I'm off to deal with those scoundrels of the Punk family. You can now indulge yourself with the gold coins you have, enjoy a fragrant hot bath, and savor some delectable cuisine."

  As he spoke, Glen was about to mount the great deer and make haste towards West Bart City.

  Pernas exclaimed in haste, "Wait! Can you manage this alone? Perhaps it would be wiser to bring some assistance."

  "Do not underestimate my capabilities. Have you already forgotten how I rescued you from peril? Just await tomorrow's newspaper; it shall be quite a spectacle."

  With that, Glen spurred the great deer and galloped into the distance.

  For this operation, he intended to employ assassination.

  He aimed to delay the dissemination of news regarding the destruction of the Punk family for a few days. This would afford him the time to thoroughly conceal his tracks, ensuring that even mages capable of reviewing events over an extended period would be unable to locate his true self.

  Although his strength rendered him unafraid of the city's guardian knights and special law - enforcement teams, there was no demonic interference there.

  Should they procure a mage highly proficient in tracking and divination, he risked exposure, and his days of tranquility would be no more.

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  Watching the receding figure, Pernas stared blankly for a long while.

  At this moment, her emotions were a complex jumble.

  ...

  West Bart City.

  Within the General Police Station.

  The Punk Count, oblivious to the impending calamity, continued to argue with the Chief Justice.

  In recent days, news of the Punk Count's eldest son abducting the niece of Viscount Rauborn had spread far and wide, throwing the Punk family into disarray.

  Now, a curious incident had come to light - Hormit had perished.

  This had further exacerbated the feud between the two noble families, becoming an inevitable topic of conversation among many outsiders.

  "I've stated it clearly! I know naught of this matter! I've just returned from the capital! You're well - aware of this! With that elven diplomatic mission, how could I have had the time for such deeds?! And my foolhardy eldest son was likely manipulated! He's no youth; why would he abduct an underage maiden?!"

  Listening to the Punk Count's shameless tirade, the Chief Justice and several senior constables across from him maintained impassive expressions.

  What thoughts lurked in their minds remained a mystery.

  "Very well, my esteemed Count. The true nature of your offspring is common knowledge throughout West Bart City. Fortunately, you've managed to prevent us from uncovering evidence. Otherwise, matters would be far different. We've summoned you here to offer your family a chance to save face. Do not wait until we present irrefutable evidence before confessing. That would only bring shame upon your ancestors."

  The Chief Justice, a man of severe and unforgiving countenance, spoke with blunt candor.

  Merely because he has the backing of the kingdom! How dare he address me in such a manner! This is intolerable!... The Punk Count seethed inwardly, yet his smile remained fixed.

  "Of course I understand, but I'm convinced that even with his flaws, my son would not stoop to such actions..."

  ...

  Upon exiting the General Police Station, several of the Punk Count's personal servants surrounded and safeguarded him.

  As he pondered how to suppress this affair, the Punk Count made his way towards his private carriage.

  When one noble acts against another, certain laws protecting nobles become ineffectual, which was the source of the Punk Count's current distress.

  "Count Punk."

  Before he could board the carriage, a familiar feminine voice arrested his attention.

  Turning, he was startled to see Lady Anya.

  The Punk Count's visage darkened. It was she who had reduced him to this sorry state, and he had long harbored a deep - seated hatred for her and her daughter.

  He did not trouble himself with determining who was at fault; he only knew who was causing him grief.

  "Lady Anya, what can I do for you?" His tone lacked its former warmth, replaced entirely by impatience.

  Lady Anya, attired in a pale - yellow gown and a dainty, delicate lady's hat, stood beside a carriage, accompanied by two maids.

  Evidently, she had come to the police station and chanced upon the departing Punk Count.

  "I wish you a pleasant evening, Count Punk." Despite her words of well - wishing, Lady Anya's eyes betrayed a gleam of schadenfreude.

  "Madwoman..." the Punk Count muttered under his breath as he climbed into the carriage and departed.

  En route, reflecting on Lady Anya's tone and expression, the Punk Count felt a sense of unease wash over him, as if some dire event loomed.

  Could that woman be plotting something against me? Her? Mere theatrics...

  Amidst his speculations, he finally arrived at the gates of his manor.

  However, before alighting from the carriage, he heard the dark mage assigned to protect him intone gravely, "Wait, my lord. There is an aura of death within the manor."

  The Punk Count froze, a sense of foreboding gripping him. He whispered, "Do you know what has occurred?"

  The dark mage replied, "Many have perished within the manor..."

  "What?" The Punk Count's pupils constricted violently, his heart pounding at a frenzied pace. "There are over a dozen Level - 3 dark mages and more than twenty Level - 2 knights within the manor! Who could have breached its defenses and committed such carnage?!"

  After a moment of silence, the mage continued, his voice tinged with fear, "Though we know not who has entered, I advise we depart immediately for our own safety."

  "Then flee at once!" The Punk Count trembled uncontrollably within the carriage. Recalling Lady Anya's words at the police station entrance, he had an epiphany. "That woman must know something!"

  Just as the carriage was about to pull away, it jolted violently, and then a voice, as if from a demon, intoned, "You've come this far. Why not stay a while before leaving?"

  Two jet - black hands suddenly seized the carriage and all the servants, dragging them into the manor.