入室强性暴

Soon enough, Anthony Reid, the information broker, returned after changing his attire, seemingly determined to fulfill his promise and seize an opportunity to tail Louis Lund.

At that moment, he sported a yellowish-white shirt and a brown formal coat. There was no bow tie around his neck, but he wore a round hat, resembling a clerk fresh out of the office.

Had Lumian not possessed a certain knowledge of Reid’s build, temperament, and gait, he might have failed to recognize him.

After considering his options, Lumian stepped out from the crevice between the two buildings and confronted Anthony Reid.

Having discarded his disguise upon departing the Valiant Café, he now donned a simple ensemble consisting of black-framed glasses and a broad brown hat. Those familiar with him could effortlessly discern his identity.

Noticing the shift in Anthony Reid’s gaze, Lumian whispered as they brushed past each other, “I’m back. Await me at the rear entrance.”

Although the Prophecy Spell indicated a reunion with Louis Lund on Avenue du Marché, Lumian aimed to avert any potential mishaps.

On one hand, the Prophetic Concoction derived from his body’s response, rendering it somewhat unreliable. There might be omissions within the prophecy. On the other hand, the manifestation of a prophecy could assume various forms, deviating entirely from his anticipated sequence of events.

Anthony Reid withdrew his gaze and nodded, signifying his comprehension.

He advanced onward, passing by the residence of “Black Scorpion” Roger, and disappearing into the distance down an alley.

Lumian did not immediately turn around. Beneath the glow of street lamps, he pressed onward.

Just as he reached a dimly lit section, a figure emerged from the shadows beneath a dilapidated, iron-black street lamp in the alley ahead.

The towering individual, garbed in a form-fitting black robe with a hood that nearly concealed the face, beckoned to Lumian.

Franca? Lumian instantly formed a conjecture and hastened towards her.

The conspicuously dressed character was indeed “Red Boots” Franca.

This time, she had forgone her trademark red boots in favor of black ones.

“Aren’t you concerned about being discovered?” Lumian couldn’t help but inquire.

While Trieriens had a high tolerance for eccentric attire and even actively pursued fashion trends, loitering in secrecy while dressed in such a manner would undoubtedly draw the attention of “Black Scorpion” Roger and the Poison Spur Mob—even the passing laborers!

Franca grinned nonchalantly and retorted, “You don’t understand. This is all part of the procedure! Didn’t your sister teach you?”

Indeed, she did teach me, but she never mentioned employing it in such a place or situation… Before Lumian could utter another word, Franca waved her hand dismissively.

“Fret not, I won’t be discovered.”

As her words faded, she took a step backward, merging seamlessly with the shadow and vanishing from Lumian’s sight.

If it weren’t for the inevitable gender change at Sequence 7, he would have considered this path more to his liking than that of the Hunter.

Emerging from the shadows once more, Franca pointed toward 126 Avenue du Marché in the distance.

“That carriage driver should be the Louis Lund you seek. Shall I assist you in tailing him later?

“I understand that Hunters possess a hound’s nose and eagle’s eyes, making them adept at tracking, but you struggle with concealment. Staying too far away risks losing the target, while staying too close risks discovery. It’s safer if I handle it.

“Don’t forget, Louis Lund is also a Beyonder, and he worships an evil god. It’s possible he possesses unique abilities.”

This time, Lumian didn’t resist or reject the offer. He nodded and replied, “Very well.”

At present, he couldn’t mark Louis Lund with a distinct scent, and darkness was swiftly descending. The crowded streets, filled with pedestrians and carriages, would muddle any traces. Tailing from 20 to 30 meters away could easily result in losing the target with the slightest misstep.

Franca’s thin, red lips curled into a visible smile, free from the confines of the hooded shadow, as she spoke,”Your afternoon therapy session was quite effective. A man should be more open-minded, untroubled by trivial matters.”

She lightly tapped her chest as she spoke.

From her possession emerged a glass bottle.

The surface of the small bottle had been intricately etched into small squares, reflecting the nearby streetlamp’s light and shimmering with psychedelic colors.

“When I lived as a man, I found these perfume bottles to be beautifully crafted, but I felt too self-conscious to buy them or carry them with me. Now, I have no such concerns. Sometimes, changing your gender can open the door to a new world,” Franca said with emotion.

The door to a new world refers to sleeping with men? If it weren’t for the crucial task of tracking Louis Lund, Lumian would definitely have provided such a rejoinder.

Opening the lid, she brought the pressed glass bottle to Lumian’s nose.

“Remember its scent.”

The perfume was refreshing and natural, akin to strolling through a forest on a summer’s day.

“Got it.” Lumian nodded slightly.

Franca proceeded to spray it on herself.

“It has distinct top, middle, and base notes, but the differences are subtle. There’s no need to discern them specifically. You’ll know it by the scent alone.

“I’ll position myself three to four meters away from Louis Lund. Without a hound’s nose, he won’t detect this fragrance that clearly doesn’t belong to the market district.”

Lumian added thoughtfully, “So, I am to track your perfume from a distance of ten to twenty meters?”

It was indeed a clever strategy.

“That’s correct.” Franca produced a handful of fluorescent powder, sprinkling it over herself, and recited a deep incantation.

It appeared to be a fusion of the Hermes words for “hidden” and “body.”

Almost instantaneously, Lumian witnessed Franca’s form gradually fading away, as if an eraser were obliterating a pencil drawing.

Apart from the lingering fragrance in his nostrils, he had completely lost track of the Witch.

Once again, Lumian marveled at the Demoness path’s performance as a Low- to Mid-Sequence Beyonder.

In the blink of an eye, Lumian felt the fragrance’s source receding, drawing closer to the three-story building with a garden at 126 Avenue du Marché.

Lumian made his way in that direction, slipping into the shadows and pressing himself against the wall.

After nearly half an hour, a man named Louis Lund emerged, dressed in a red vest, blue uniform, white tie, and waxed hat. Accompanying him was “Black Scorpion” Roger, impeccably attired in a formal suit with neatly combed black hair.

One of them took the reins of the carriage, while the other entered inside.

Why is “Black Scorpion” Roger following him? Is he planning to meet Madame Pualis in person? Lumian furrowed his brow in slight confusion.

This introduced new variables to his plan.

Originally, Lumian intended to find an opportune moment during Louis Lund’s return journey. With his current strength, he could easily overpower his target, even if they were both Sequence 8s. Plus, he had the assistance of Witch Franca.

However, if “Black Scorpion” Roger joined the equation, things would become considerably more troublesome.

From the midwife’s performance in his dream, Lumian deduced that a Heretic Spellmaster possessed numerous mystical techniques and considerable power. They were fully capable of matching a Witch from the Assassin pathway.

While Lumian could have Franca distract “Black Scorpion” Roger while he dealt with Louis Lund, the battle between two Mid-Sequence Beyonders wouldn’t be swift, thus increasing the risk of discovery.

Hmm… If “Black Scorpion” Roger truly intends to meet Madame Pualis, I’ll follow him instead of attacking. My objective is to locate Madame Pualis and establish contact with her. Lumian swiftly revised his plan and devised a new strategy.

The rental carriage began its journey toward the opposite end of Avenue du Marché, and the refreshing, natural fragrance faded away.

Lumian hurried along beside the gas street lamps, maintaining a distance of nearly 20 meters.

After a while, he sensed the perfume come to a halt. Advancing another ten meters, he witnessed the rental carriage pulling over by the roadside. “Black Scorpion” Roger disembarked, carrying a wooden box.

Not far away stood Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman.

Within a matter of seconds, Louis Lund directed the carriage toward a fork in the road, bypassing the bustling area. Meanwhile, “Black Scorpion” Roger ventured into the market alone.

Is Madame Pualis at Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman? Or is “Black Scorpion” Roger merely escorting Louis Lund for a distance, concerned about potential targeting? Lumian speculated as he hastened forward.

Regardless, capturing Louis Lund took precedence!

Behind Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman, there were only a few pedestrians. Under the pitch-black sky, occasionally, one could spot a lone figure.

Several street lamps here were out of order, leaving the road engulfed in darkness. It was wide enough for several carriages to pass side by side.

Lumian surveyed the surroundings, wasting no time. He removed his black-framed glasses and sprinted forward.

Before long, he caught up with the slowly moving carriage. As Louis Lund sensed the anomaly, he pushed down on the carriage with his left hand and lunged toward the driver’s seat.

From this distance, Lumian could clearly see the black-haired, blue-eyed face.

Though the other party had employed some disguise, Lumian was certain it was Louis Lund!

Reacting swiftly, Louis Lund, without bothering to ascertain the assailant’s identity or motives, seized the reins with his left hand and balled his right hand into a fist. Like a speeding cannonball, he launched an attack at Lumian, who was suspended in midair with no leverage to defend himself.

In that very moment, Louis Lund caught sight of Lumian’s unmasked face, his eyes widening in sheer shock.

Undeterred, Lumian didn’t evade the blow. Instead, he extended his right arm and caught hold of Louis Lund’s fist.

Just as the impending collision seemed inevitable, Lumian retracted his arm, lessening the force behind the strike. Then, with a swift motion, he intertwined Louis Lund’s fists, wrists, and forearms as though he had boneless limbs. As a result, Louis Lund was sent flying backward but remained within the confines of the carriage.

In the blink of an eye, Louis Lund saw a smile on Lumian’s face.

Whack!

Franca materialized on the opposite side of the carriage driver’s seat, her palm poised to strike Louis Lund’s ear.

Under the formidable Beyonder powers unleashed by an Assassin’s full-strength blow, Louis Lund succumbed to unconsciousness without uttering a single sound.