Chapter 65: The Blood Letter
The line of text on the paper in the hands of the benevolent master was:
“The deceased is very likely to be under mental control or impersonation. She can’t wait to marry her daughter off to me.”
Master Blansy’s tone was unkind:
“Are you questioning a father who can’t even recognize his own daughter?”
Jima murmured softly, “A father and husband?”
Blansy continued, “At her age, it’s quite normal for her to arrange a marriage for her daughter.”
George wrote another line: “I think your daughter didn’t originally intend to introduce her daughter to a stranger.”
“She just had a whim.”
“The nature of our conversation was so unbelievable that even your granddaughter couldn’t handle it and left early. She was eager to arrange a meeting between Lis and me, and even after I explicitly refused to marry, she persisted.”
After reading the paper, Blansy crumpled it into a ball, inhaled deeply, and his voice trembled with anger: “That’s impossible. Do you think of her as a crow that can’t wait to shove her daughter onto you?”
“I have a good memory and can transcribe our conversation. You can call your granddaughter over to verify.”
After saying this, George began to write it down on the paper.
Master Blansy’s face turned pale. He waved his hand, “Notify my daughter.”
George wrote quickly. One neat line after another appeared under his pen.
It seemed he had done a lot of transcription of those brainwashing religious texts as a child.
Jima thought silently.
Before long, a sheet of paper was filled. Mainly, it contained dialogues from when Lis was present.
A servant handed the paper to Master Blansy. He hurriedly glanced over it, snorted, and then lifted his eyes to scrutinize George. He wanted to know what kind of charm he possessed that made his daughter want to entrust her granddaughter to him upon first meeting. And so urgently.
Weeping Lis walked in, and Master Blansy’s expression softened as he looked at Lis’s face, which resembled her mother’s.
He said softly, “Darling, take a look. Did your mother say these things to him?”
Lis picked up a dry handkerchief from the maid’s tray, wiped her tears, looked closely, nodded, and said, “Yes, that’s right. Today, Mom was very strange.”
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely.”
“Alright, you step outside for a moment. Don’t stay in the room alone; it’s still very dangerous here.”
“Grandpa, you must avenge my mom.”
“I will do my best,” Master Blansy said gently.
Jima, however, did not see the tenderness; she maliciously speculated that Master Blansy planned to groom his granddaughter to become his wife.
After receiving her grandfather’s confirmation, Lis stepped out.
George wrote another line: “It’s most likely that someone impersonated the deceased to frame us.”
Master Blansy tossed the note to the ground, shaking his head.
“Controlling ordinary people may be undetectable through mind control, but for an extraordinary person, as their closest one, I would definitely sense something is wrong.”
Jima couldn’t help but fantasize about the “closest one.”
George wrote, “Then her motive doesn’t make sense.”
Master Blansy fell into thought.
Jima interjected:
“The deceased once told Lis: ‘I’ve not met a suitable young man for half my life, I can only marry you…’ but was interrupted afterward. I want to ask, what kind of person was Lis’s father?”
Jima originally wanted to add “biological” before the word “father,” but due to her weak powers, she had to give up on that risky move.
She kept her eyes fixed on Master Blansy’s face.
Blansy’s expression remained unchanged as he said:
“Her father died young.”
Jima narrowed her eyes; based on her years of experience, she could tell that Blansy was deliberately controlling his facial expression.
As George lowered his head to continue writing,
At this moment, the long-silent Lord Fulis spoke up:
“That is magical coercion. I dare say, that black-haired girl must have some incredible mind-controlling magical item on her.”
Jima hid behind George and said to the maid:
“Stay away from me.”
Master Blansy raised his hand, halting the maids, saying:
“Listen to her.”
He paused and said, “It’s not coercion. Alright, Sir George, though you haven’t cleared even a sliver of suspicion, I see you’re quick-minded and I’m willing to believe you for a bit longer.”
This could mean that the deceased’s motive was to have George take her daughter away, to prevent her from falling into a similar fate?
Jima thought it was very likely.
Unexpectedly, unexpectedly, this loyal man, who never participates in illicit activities and doesn’t engage in affairs with anyone other than his wife, turned out to be such a beast. Tsk tsk tsk.
George continued to write:
“When I discovered the body, the deceased’s blood had already started to congeal, indicating she had been dead for some time. Our conversation didn’t last long enough for it to be possible within that time frame. As for motive, the murderer tortured the deceased brutally out of evident hatred. We are outsiders who only met the deceased for the first time today, and there’s no motive.”
Jima glanced at the contents of the note. She felt that George was writing whatever came to his mind. What exactly was he trying to do? There was no way any of this could convince the benevolent master to let them go.
Only by finding the murderer could they possibly leave peacefully; otherwise, they would face exposure.
Master Blansy read the note carefully.
Lord Fulis leaned in, glancing over it quickly, but only spoke after Master Blansy passed the paper to him:
“I suspect you are deceiving us. Are you really Knight Bartow and not a cold-blooded killer? How much were you paid to commit murder and divert attention from the corpse… I can’t even bear to say it.”
Lord Fulis turned crimson with anger, as if he had witnessed the crime scene firsthand.
Meanwhile, Master Blansy, responsible for playing the bad cop, said nothing.
Jima examined them coldly, realizing Lord Fulis’s role. He was a dog, a dog responsible for offending people. He was merely voicing the benevolent master’s thoughts.
George remained unflustered, continuing to write and draw on the notepaper.
His focused demeanor as he wrote line by line was serious.
I really want to know what this virgin is thinking right now. Is he panicking?
Jima felt curious.
“Everyone who has come into contact with the deceased must be called. I believe the murderer could be one of them. To lock in the killer, I hope to inspect the scene thoroughly.”
So this was the virgin’s method—using his lie-detecting ability to identify the murderer.
Jima suddenly realized.
After reading the note, Master Blansy spoke in a somewhat hoarse voice:
“She wouldn’t want anyone else to see her ugly side. As for the confrontation, I can agree.”
Jima interjected:
“My lord, I want to remind you, we are the first ones to discover the body, and I believe your daughter would want to find the murderer more.”
Master Blansy squinted his eyes for a moment and then said:
“Do not make me regret it, or I will make you regret it.”
Sooner or later, you will regret it for engaging in illicit activities.
Jima silently raised a middle finger in her heart.
The maids finally made way, at least for now no one cared what was under Jima’s hat.
Under the guidance of the strongest trio in Shalin City, they returned to the living room.
Jima looked at the empty chairs; less than half an hour ago, the oval-faced beauty was still sitting there, promoting her daughter to George.
The door leading to the garden was opened, and a strong smell of blood wafted in.
Only George and Jima were allowed to step into the garden, which represented Master Blansy’s initial trust in them. As soon as they stepped onto the cobblestone path in the garden, the large door behind them closed immediately.
The oval-faced beauty was still hanging from the tree. The scene hadn’t changed a bit; it seemed Master Blansy was suffering but had not lost his reason. The blood from the corpse had long dried, creating a large pool under the chair. The books on the chair were completely soaked in blood, making the covers unrecognizable.
As the two walked in, the frozen pain and shock on the corpse made Jima feel a chill. She imagined the deceased suddenly opening her eyes and staring at her…
“Jima, you actually don’t need to come,” George handed her an eye mask, “You don’t have to force yourself.”
“I’m not scared.” Ridiculous, I’m a demon lord.
George nodded.
The cups and teapot on the table had been knocked over, the chairs were kicked over, but other than that, there wasn’t much disorder.
Jima concluded that the battle ended very quickly. The murderer likely spent more time torturing the deceased.
George walked around the crime scene. Jima couldn’t help but whisper:
“George, I didn’t realize you’re so professional.”
“No, I know nothing.”
“Then what are you here for?”
“To understand the murderer’s motive. The questions the deceased asked in the living room were too strange.”
Indeed, it was too straightforward. It was as if they were preparing to incite a riot and destroy a city. The deceased also seemed very concerned about which side George stood on; could someone have seen through their identities? Was the deceased who spoke with them, truly the deceased?
Jima’s hair stood on end as she asked:
“George, do you think someone is impersonating the deceased?”
“Not sure. The benevolent master vehemently denies it, but he probably has some special technique,” George said, “Also, it’s hard to fool close relatives.”
Jima said, “But this world has magic.”
George did not answer. He picked up a book from under the deceased’s feet, accidentally brushing against her bare foot, causing the corpse to jolt.
George bowed his head and silently prayed: “…May your soul rest in peace, O God of Dawn.”
Jima also followed suit, praying in her heart: “May all the fools greedy for my father’s treasure die just like you and your entire family.”
George turned his head and wiped the sticky blood off the book, revealing the title: “The Poor Who Reject Virtue.”
Jima exclaimed, “Isn’t this the book written by the deceased?”
With bloodied hands, George flipped to the first page, saying, “It’s still the first edition; this was bound using manuscript paper.”
Jima pinched her nose and leaned closer as George flipped through the pages. The general meaning of the book was:
It accused the morals of the poor to be corrupt and shameless; they only know how to expose the filthy bodies of good people, taking advantage of the sympathy good people offer to them, and yet they are insatiably greedy.
In short, good people will never become poor; both the poor and slaves are bad people.
After flipping through several pages of preachy content, a wrinkled page appeared before the two. It was clear that the reader was very angry about the words on this paper, having crumpled it forcefully.
Jima felt she had spotted the key point, almost pressing her body against George, leaning her head closer.
The paper contained a story, a story of the author’s personal experience.
