入室强性暴

“Maipú Meyer has accomplices?”

Lumian gazed at the collapse that had been filled in and pondered for a moment before saying, “What’s more important isn’t whether they have accomplices, but what they’re doing here.

“If it’s truly Maipú Meyer and not a random team of cave explorers, he long knew that this place had been destroyed by the official Beyonders. There wouldn’t be anything valuable left behind. Why did he bring people here recently? To pay homage?”

“It’s not impossible,” Franca muttered. “What if he achieved something and received a new boon from the Mother Tree of Desire, becoming a Fallen Tree Spirit?

“It’s also known as Baby Cupid. There must be a distorted desire in affairs of the heart, just like Susanna Mattise did with Charlie. Therefore, Maipú Meyer coming specially to pay homage to his deceased love fits the characteristics of the pathway.”

“But there’s no need to bring three or four people to watch him perform, right?” Lumian surveyed his surroundings. “Perhaps he didn’t do it on purpose but just happened to pass by?”

Franca quickly caught Lumian’s drift.

“Are you suggesting that Maipú Meyer and his accomplices frequent the underground of the market district?”

Lumian offered a curt acknowledgment.

“I now believe that Maipú Meyer didn’t return to the market district to deal with me. He might eventually seek revenge, but that’s the outcome, not the process.”

“Is their target something underground in the market district?” Franca frowned. “But the Tree of Shadow is severely damaged. What’s so special about this place? It can’t be that the entrance to the Fourth Epoch Trier is beneath the market district…”

Franca stopped abruptly.

That wasn’t impossible!

Lumian quickly recalled the situation in the market district and various rumors he knew. Suddenly, he recalled something.

Madam Magician’s “doll” messenger had a strong aversion to Salle de Bal Brise, claiming that old bones were buried beneath the area.

This had to refer to a unique situation beneath the market district. Moreover, the building facing Salle de Bal Brise was suspected to be related to église Saint-Robert’s old cemetery.

Lumian promptly shared this insight with Franca before they continued following the traces out of the destroyed sacrificial mine.

“There’s really a problem… It’s not hard to figure out. Summon that messenger later and ask,” Franca remarked, bemoaning the poor fengshui in the market district. She followed Lumian, providing mysticism support for his pursuit.

The two of them journeyed deeper underground, but they eventually lost the trail of their target. The suspected members of Maipú Meyer’s group had traversed several well-known and long-used tunnels frequented by cave explorers, smuggling caravans, and mushroom-growing citizens. Their tracks had been effectively concealed by those who came later after more than ten days.

Lumian, with a crimson fireball above him, came to a halt and stared into the pitch-black mine ahead. He remained silent for an extended moment, his thoughts shrouded in mystery.

Franca was about to suggest leaving when Lumian suddenly spoke.

“Don’t you think the market district has been unusually quiet for the past month or so?”

“How do you mean quiet?” Franca retorted involuntarily.

007 certainly didn’t think so!

Lumian pondered his words and continued, “Let me put it another way. Apart from the Beyonder problem we caused, isn’t the market district oddly quiet regarding mysticism incidents?

“No, to be more precise, after the Tree of Shadow was severely damaged, the heretics have become extremely inactive!

“Right, no new factions have emerged to devour the remaining smaller mobs, or to engage in conflicts with the Savoie Mob. There have been no suspected sacrificial cases. Even among those that preach secretly, I only encountered a swindler from the Sick Church, and he was just an ordinary person…”

Since the Tree of Shadow incident, the only true heretics Lumian and Franca had encountered were Guillaume Bénet from the Sinners organization and Beatrice Incourt of the Bliss Society. However, they had followed a trail based on former clues which weren’t within the market district.

The Rose School of Thought’s Werewolf could barely be considered one, but that was an aftermath of the Tree of Shadow incident.

Browns Sauron of the Demoness Sect could only be considered half an element. This organization had a solid history and believed in the evil entity of this world, not alien evil gods.”

Franca was taken aback.

“Isn’t that normal? Secret organizations that believe in evil gods must operate in secret. If they were encountered by someone like you every day, they would have been wiped out long ago!

“Look, we didn’t notice Maipú Meyer returning to the market district before.”

If it were anyone else, your explanation wouldn’t be a problem, but I have an alien evil god’s angel sealed within me. According to Madam Magician’s rubbish repulsion convergence theory, there must be an abnormal reason why I haven’t encountered a heretic causing trouble for so long… Termiboros has been excessively quiet recently… Lumian’s thoughts raced as he said to Franca, “Can you use dream divination on me to help me remember something?”

“No. Perhaps a powerful Seer can, but not me.” Franca shook her head. “What do you want to recall? You can seek Madame Hela’s help. She can definitely create a real dreamscape now.”

Lumian nodded slowly and responded, “I’d like to recall an address where suspected heretics reside. I plan to check it out and see if they’ve vanished, gone into hiding, or fallen silent. Yes, there’s no need to trouble Madame Hela for the time being. I know who to ask.”

This was him carefully making confirmation built upon bold assumptions.

Seeing Lumian return to the surface as he spoke, Franca hurriedly asked, “What address? Who are you asking?”

“We’ll talk later. Let’s head to Rue de Scotch Broom in Quartier de Noel first,” Lumian said without turning around.

Why does this address sound so familiar… Franca mused for a moment as she followed closely behind.

As she neared the surface, she finally remembered.

Madame Pualis’s address!

Madame Night from Cordu!

…

Quartier de No?l, Rue de Scotch Broom.

This suburban area was filled with villa-like buildings, each with a lawn facing the street and a garden at the back.

Lumian walked in the shadows where the street lamps couldn’t reach, carefully inspecting the lawns and gardens of each building.

Franca did the same. Without knowing Madame Pualis’s house number, they had to rely on the unusually vigorous and lively plants to make a judgment.

As they approached the end of the street, Lumian and Franca simultaneously noticed a garden filled with blooming flowers, resembling a lush forest of plants.

The grayish-white building housing the garden appeared unlit, slumbering in the darkness, in stark contrast to the surrounding residences filled with family life.

“It feels like no one has lived here for a long time…” Franca began to understand Lumian’s concerns. “Has Madame Pualis, a member of the Nightstalkers, also moved out and hidden herself quietly?”

Lumian observed and listened for a while to confirm that the building was empty. He then took out a piece of wire, opened the door, and entered.

During this process, Franca used Magic Mirror Divination to confirm via mysticism means.

The living room was devoid of furnishings, the linen long gone. Dust had gathered on the table, indicating that no one had lived there in some time.

Lumian proceeded further into the house, and Franca followed him cautiously, not daring to near or touch anything.

Upon reaching the coffee table, Lumian bent down and picked up an abandoned newspaper. Although it was tattered from rat bites, there were still some remnants left.

Lumian examined the newspaper under the moonlight and whispered, “Early July… This means that Madame Pualis didn’t leave immediately after I got the address out from Louis Lund, nor did she depart immediately after the Tree of Shadow incident. She resided on Rue de Scotch Broom for a while and chose to abandon this place for unknown reasons.”

“Something is indeed amiss,” Franca noted with a grave expression.

They quickly searched the building and then boarded a rental carriage to their next destination.

Upon receiving an old newspaper advertising the Interstellar Bridge from Laurent, the former tenant of Auberge du Coq Doré and now deputy editor of Le Petit Trierien, Lumian and Franca arrived at 9 Rue Saint-Martin in Quartier 2.

The fifth floor was an office rented by a group of swindlers and suspected heretics. They aimed to raise funds for constructing an interstellar bridge to the crimson moon.

Under the dim starlight, the entire fifth floor lay shrouded in darkness.

Lumian cautiously reached out and pushed open the door to the apartment-like office.

Crimson moonlight filtered through the window, revealing scattered papers on the ground. Complex mechanical symbols and intricate bridge diagrams displayed concepts that appeared both imaginative and plausible.

Many of the drawers were open, devoid of any belongings, as if the swindlers had hastily retreated upon realizing the arrival of the police.

Based on the written information and various traces at the scene, Lumian and Franca concluded that this floor had been vacant for nearly two weeks.

“There’s definitely something unusual,” Franca remarked. “Why have the heretics from various organizations suddenly reduced their activities, hidden themselves, and gone quiet?”

Lumian’s expression grew solemn as he said in a deep voice, “This abnormality suggests that something significant might be in the works.”

Without waiting for Franca’s response, he instructed her, “Contact 007 and inquire about any information regarding the Sick Church. Also, find out what problems might be lurking in église Saint-Robert’s old cemetery.

“I’ll write a letter to Madam Magician and share our findings and speculations.”

He planned to also ask the “doll” messenger about the meaning of the old bones.

“Alright,” Franca responded promptly.

…

Auberge du Coq Doré, Room 207.

Lumian set up the ritual and summoned the “doll” messenger donning a light-gold dress.

As he handed the folded letter to her, he managed a smile and inquired, “What did you mean by the old bones underground?”

The “doll” messenger displayed a disgusted expression.

“Filthy, repulsive old bones from the Fourth Epoch!”