Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 673 The Magic Master
"What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"

On the bustling street, Thales adjusted his tattered hat and quietly asked Hilly beside him.

Miss Kevin Deer had already changed back into her practical and simple travel clothes, her hair was once again a mess, and she even dusted her face with some ash. If you saw her on the street, no one would think she was a noble lady.

"It's nothing. You used to always wear fancy clothes, but today you look surprisingly good in this shabby look."

Thales' expression froze.

"What do you mean? What does 'surprisingly suitable' mean?"

He touched the standard "ordinary passerby" costume he had taken from the theater, which was so worn that even the corners were turned up, and his expression was strange.

“It’s your skin that’s too pampered, it doesn’t match,” Hilly ignored his questioning. “Ah, I’ve got it, don’t move.”

The young lady skillfully patted the base of the wall, and without allowing any resistance, she cupped the prince's face in her hands ("What are you doing—wait, no, let go..."), and vigorously wiped and rubbed it.

"Hmm, that's much better."

Hilly looked at the work in front of her, nodded in satisfaction, then turned away and walked away, saying, "Alright, stop being naughty and hurry up and catch up, the target is moving."

The prince was left alone, or more precisely, the poor, dusty-faced Thales, who stood there fuming and jumping up and down.

As a popular tourist and entertainment destination, the streets of Iris Ward were filled with jubilant crowds:
In broad daylight, drunkards, clutching barrels of liquor and wielding glasses, staggered through the streets, seeking toasts with others; in the alleys, slumped drunkards, clearly still hungover from their heavy drinking; wealthy foreigners, accompanied by interpreters, gesticulated wildly and spent lavishly; flower girls, carrying baskets overflowing with blossoms, approached couples strolling by with endless smiles; a group of sailors temporarily anchored at Emerald City gathered together, singing in unison "Mermaids Have No Fathers" and "The End of the Sea Eye is Your Home," the lyrics crude, vulgar, and utterly offensive ("The baby mermaid cries and asks her mother, why am I the only one in the whole ocean without a father? Oh hey! Because every day, after the brave sailors finish their drinks, they happily stand on the deck facing the sea and masturbate with gusto!"), forcing passing parents to plug their children's ears and warn them that if they don't study hard when they're young, they'll end up as sailors when they grow up;

Every now and then, a parade or performance troupe would set up a stage on the spot to promote their theater or opera troupe's reputation; local guides and tour guides from Emerald City could appear in every nook and cranny, enthusiastically offering themselves to out-of-towners; laborers from taverns, inns, teahouses, restaurants, and other small shops would roam the streets soliciting business; there were also vendors pushing carts selling trinkets, street stalls that seemed to want to occupy every corner, acrobats shouting their wares at busy intersections, carriages carrying wealthy and noble guests to various appointments and banquets, and of course, the indispensable tourists dressed in their finest attire as they wandered through the streets and alleys...

"Fine crystal powder fireworks in gift tubes, imported from Hanbul, crafted with the skills of local artisans, and assembled by local craftsmen. The same style as the fireworks used in the Kongming Palace!"

Thales and Hilly, making their way discreetly, passed a vendor pushing a cart full of fireworks and firecrackers, tirelessly hawking their wares while trying to shoo away the noisy children around them.

"One shot costs twenty copper coins! Five shots cost sixty, ten shots cost one hundred! Buy more, get more free! Clustered shots with multiple flames firing simultaneously are even more effective!"

The target that the defense attorneys Slimani-Tales and Hilly were tracking walked alone on the street after the theater ended, blending into the crowd. He watched the performances and applauded here, and browsed the stalls and bought flowers there, but he didn't stay long anywhere. He kept looking back nervously along the way, appearing distracted and preoccupied.

“Slimani is a famous lawyer in the city. He is well-versed in the city law and is eloquent. He has connections in both the guardhouse and the courtroom, so his fees are high,” Hilly said, squatting in front of a bustling stall, pretending to play with a doll. “But the higher his fees, the more high-ranking officials and nobles come to him to defend them in court.”

“I know, I’ve seen his performance in court. Even a demanding judge like Brennan couldn’t find fault with him,” Thales said, squatting down beside her, his eyes constantly glancing at Slimani, who was sitting outside the restaurant across the street, staring blankly at a glass of wine. “But when Slimani was talking to Caquere just now, he didn’t have any of the eloquence one might expect.”

"Indeed, he looked gloomy the whole way, unlike what a citizen of Emerald City should look like during the Queen's Day celebration."

“He must know something,” Thales nodded and whispered, “whether it’s about the dead Diop, or the people and things involved—and those things terrified him, forcing him to go to Caquere to ask about the palace.”

In the distance, Slimani exhaled, seemingly having made up his mind. He tossed a few coins and left his seat, along with the untouched glass of wine on the table.

Hilly put down the doll and stood up with Thales, much to the disappointment of the stall owner who had been hoping they would buy something.

"So you're planning to show yourself and go find him?"

"We can't do it here; it'll be easy for Jenn's spies to spot us. We need to wait until he gets to a secluded spot..."

"Then appeal to their interests and emotions, 'Come on, join Prince Thales, let's defeat the Great Demon King Janne together!'"

The two mingled back into the crowd, trailing behind Slimani, watching him first give a few copper coins to a group of street performers, and then call out to a flower girl, listlessly picking through the flowers in her basket.

“If all else fails,” Thales shook his head, ignoring the sarcasm in the other’s words, “we can only ask him in a polite and courteous manner.”

"What do you mean?"

"The joke in the Star Lake Guard is related to one of my subordinates named Morgan—hey, where did you get these flowers?"

Thales stared in surprise at the bouquet of flowers that had suddenly appeared in Hilly's hand, which contained at least three colors or varieties.

"Of course it was from you!" Miss Kevin Deer said matter-of-factly.

"what?"

Thales was startled and turned his head: at some point, a little girl selling flowers with a basket was standing beside them, looking at Thales with a smile and full of hope.

Hilly raised an eyebrow:
"Oh? So you're not planning to buy me flowers for our date?"

Thales' expression froze.

A few minutes later, Hilly was walking down the street, happily playing with the flowers in her hand, while Thales touched his purse, which was now even emptier, and wondered what excuse he could use to ask Jann for reimbursement.

“Cheer up,” Hilly said, taking a flower and tucking it into a hole in Thales’ hat. “We’re following someone, after all. We need to blend in and act naturally so we don’t give ourselves away.”

As they spoke, Srimani, holding a bouquet of flowers, wandered around and hesitated for a while outside an inconspicuous barbershop before finally stepping inside.

Thales and Hilly quickly stopped and pretended to be tired tourists, sitting down to rest on a broken stone slab across the street.

"I can't believe it. He's been wandering around like a headless fly for so long, and all he's doing is... um, getting a haircut?" Thales said helplessly.

“Compared to this,” Hilla said, “there are still shops open for business on the day of the Emerald Festival?”

Thales shook his head. He awakened the Sin of the River of Hell, entered "Hellish Senses," and focused on his sight and hearing, observing the activity in the shops across the bustling street.

"Welcome. Shave your head or trim your beard?"

The barbers sat casually on the ground, playing cards idly. When they saw a customer arrive, one of them, urged and teased by his companions, lazily stood up, pulled off the cover on the chair, and tied it around his waist like an apron.

Slimani took a deep breath: "I..."

"I'm sorry, our manicurist went back to his hometown to get married."

The barber's face was full of reluctance. He picked up a razor, wet it, and casually shaved it on the whetstone: "But there's a discount during Queen's Day: two people go together, one gets a free razor..."

Slimani smiled awkwardly. He walked to a vase in the shop, removed the withered branches, and crookedly inserted the newly bought fresh flowers into it.

The shop assistant's expression changed, and he stopped sharpening his knife.

"Oh, nice flowers," the waiter winked at his companions, who quickly abandoned their cards. "A regular customer?"

“Yes, I think, I want to find Balta,” the defense attorney said with a troubled expression. “I came here a few days ago, you should recognize me.”

After finishing speaking, Slimani took out a few copper coins from his pocket.

The shop assistants exchanged glances, and the one who had spoken nodded and expertly took the copper coin.

"The boss has gone out and won't be back for a while. But if you need anything, you can leave a message and we'll pass it on, word for word."

Slimani was taken aback, somewhat puzzled:

"What? Balta went out? At this time?"

"Yes, at this time!"

The barber weighed the copper coin in his hand, seemingly somewhat displeased: "Do you have a problem with that?"

Slimani was affected by the other party's attitude, and his face turned ugly, but he still took a deep breath and said patiently:
"No, of course not, I just... But this is the Emerald Festival, what could he possibly need to go out for..."

"I went to meet up with old friends!" the leader said impatiently.

“Hey, enough nonsense! Either leave a message, shave your head, or get out,” another guy said rudely. “We’re not the police station. We need holidays too, we need to celebrate, we need to go home and be with our wives and kids, okay?”

Upon hearing this, the men all wore unfriendly expressions.

Slimani was a highly respected lawyer who rarely suffered such humiliation. Hearing this, he looked indignant and was about to storm off when he turned around. But halfway there, he gritted his teeth and turned back, reluctantly pulling out a silver coin.

"Okay, then, can I wait here for the boss to come back?"

The men exchanged glances. The leader, who had just untied his apron, smiled and pointed to the hair styling pictures covering the wall.

A few minutes later, Slimani wrapped himself in a scarf and a blanket, and sat nervously in a chair, letting the foreman trim his beard and cut his hair with a sharp razor.

“Great,” Hilly sighed, idly untying the ribbon of the flowers. “Now we have to wait here until he finishes shaving his head. It’s the most realistic spy experience ever.”

“Those people in the shop, they’re from the underworld.” Thales said, head down, pulling a flower from his hat.

Hilly's eyes flickered: "How did you know?"

"Have you ever seen a barber with such an arrogant attitude, acting like he's waiting for customers to come to him begging?"

“That’s not necessarily true,” Hilly said, pursing her lips. “I know one who looks like he’s holding a magic gun when he’s holding scissors and a razor.”

Thales shook his head:

There is only one explanation: this shop doesn't run a haircut business; it sells something else.

"for example?"

"I don't know, but I think they are either members of the Blood Bottle Gang or a small gang under the Blood Bottle Gang."

Hilaire asked curiously, "How did you know?"

"Because they are not like the Brotherhood."

"what?"

“The Blood Bottle Gang and the Black Street Brotherhood have different backgrounds, and the differences are obvious. You can tell from their demeanor, actions, habits, and the levels of people they interact with. But those guys are obviously…” Thales said subconsciously, but then he noticed the suspicious look in Hilly’s eyes. “Oh, I, I heard it from Wyman. He, well, he’s very knowledgeable.”

Hilly glanced at him and rearranged the flowers in her hands.

"Wyatt again?"

"Uh, right, it's Wyman again."

Which Wyatt?

"Well, a certain Wyman."

Hilly, his face full of disdain, and Thales, with an awkward smile, stared at each other for a second.

“Well, I must say, your ‘certain Wyatt’ is quite knowledgeable,” Hilly said, pursing her lips as she looked at the bustling street. “He’s at least half right.”

"half?"

“The Brotherhood only entered Emerald City a little over a decade ago, and their influence is limited to the North Gate Bridge area in the new suburbs. But the Blood Bottle Gang, as I said, is a local tyrant, familiar with the rules of Emerald City,” Hilly said. “You rarely see the same level of crime there as you do elsewhere: theft, extortion, kidnapping, robbery, murder—all the bad things that keep merchants away.”

"how do you know?"

“Please, Your Highness, I grew up here.”

"No, what I'm asking is, how do you know what 'other places' are like?"

Hilly glanced at him.

“Oh, that’s what I heard from ‘Wyatt’.”

Thales shrugged helplessly, keeping the question "which Wyatt" stuck in his throat.

So vindictive.

Thales changed the subject:
"Then I guess, here, taking the Blood Bottle Gang as an example, their ways of making a living on the streets are also different?"

"That's right, they've largely integrated into the perfectly normal economy and production, at most they've gone a little astray."

"For example?"

Hilly thought for a moment:
"They were less like gangs and more like guilds, people of the same profession, circumstances, and region who gathered together: barbers, shoemakers, blacksmiths, printers, rickshaw pullers, porters..."

"Then how do they make money to operate?"

"Protection fees, taxes, transportation fees, brokerage fees, cooperation with major chambers of commerce, industry monopolies, operating gray businesses in the cracks of the law... They take a share of the booming Emerald City trade through methods that are between legal and illegal. I've heard that some of them are even directly involved in the business, almost like businessmen. And as long as they stay within the bottom line and don't go too far, the Security Bureau will even cooperate with them."

Thales frowned. "Sounds like unofficial street policing."

"Who says it's not?"

"And this is the result of Kevin Deer's generations of indulgence and encouragement?"

“It was ‘incorporation’ and ‘utilization’,” Hilly corrected. “Duke Cork, the ‘Goblin’—my great-grandfather—believed that there are always things in this world that cannot be completely controlled, that ‘there’s always a gap in a good loaf of bread.’”

"Your great-grandfather... the one who had his menstrual maid entertain vampire guests?"

"what?"

"fine."

While chatting idly, Thales kept an eye on what was happening in the barbershop. "I really didn't expect that the Duke of the South Bank would know so much about things," one of the card players chatted. "When he came to the shop today, he even asked us where we get our razors and ointment, what the prices are, and whether the market is going up or down. Unlike those old knights in my village who just know how to put on airs."

Slimani, who had been sitting absentmindedly in his chair, was startled by what he heard.

"Pshaw, so what!"

The stylist who was giving Slimani a haircut, a cigarette dangling from his lips, answered dismissively:
"I heard from the boss that the Kevin Deer family has invested in a lot of businesses—of course, they own mines, the crystal business in their territory alone is enough to make them rich. In short, it couldn't be easier for that duke to pretend to be knowledgeable! Besides, how do you know it wasn't a cheat sheet prepared for him in advance by his subordinates?"

"what are you saying?"

Slimani realized what was happening and turned pale.
"You mean, Duke Janne was here today?"

“That’s right,” the shopkeeper continued, oblivious to Slimani’s expression. “It’s a royal procession, you know. The Duke’s procession passed through this street this morning, and our shop, as luck would have it, was chosen as a model shop that the Duke would visit when he went down to the common people. Haha, can you believe it? Us? Model? Hahaha!”

"Compared to Roger and Gutierrez's business, we are certainly the model! We are craftsmen! How could we not be worthy of the Duke's pilgrimage to the countryside?" The card player looked smug.

"Go deep into the countryside? Bah! Just like those knights in the countryside, putting on airs!"

The barber switched hands to flick his cigarette ash, looking as if he were burdened with deep resentment.
"They say it's to imitate the king and queen's tours of the common people hundreds of years ago, but it's actually the same every year. It's just a few fixed routes around Emerald City, with a huge bunch of servants and runners scurrying around, and then the little duke, all slicked-back and gruff, comes down and smiles at us common folk, shaking hands and asking us all questions like, 'How old are you? How many people are in your family? Are you eating well? Are you dressed warmly? Take care of yourself.' and so on..."

Another guy playing cards turned around and laughed: "I know, it's perfectly safe, and perfectly hypocritical, to give another long, rambling speech about how we're all doing well and how we'll be even better..."

The barber clicked his tongue and shook his head, speaking in a high-pitched voice:

"Of course, basically everyone was also very cooperative, smiling and nodding, excitedly echoing 'We're doing so well!'"

Slimani stared blankly at his reflection in the broken mirror, swallowed hard, and joined the conversation:

"So, when they, I mean you, were 'smiling and nodding' at Duke Jann, were you being sincere?"

The barber raised an eyebrow and brandished his razor: "Yes, of course!"

He gave a sarcastic smile:
"Do you know how you feel when the mighty Grand Duke stands majestically in front of you? Especially when you know he could crush you with a flick of his finger... Ha, if he blinks, your heart will almost burst; if he grins, your legs will tremble!"

Hearing this, Srimani was momentarily stunned, then gritted his teeth.

"Sorry, I got so excited I shaved it crooked. Let me fix it for you."

The barber lit another cigarette, changed his scissors, and shook his head dismissively.

Slimani stared blankly in the mirror. He was always very particular about his hairstyle, but he ignored this mistake that would have driven him crazy in the past.

Across the street, Thales was also engrossed in listening, unconsciously rubbing the flowers in his hands.

A card player lost a hand, and in displeasure, he threw down his cards and pulled out a few coins:
“I know, especially when the duke is surrounded by officials of all ranks, who are fawning over him, forcing smiles, and dozens of eyes are fixed on you, waiting for your answer!”

The guy who won the round laughed heartily, happily collecting his money.
"And at the very back of the line, that little official who directly controls your livelihood and can get you into serious trouble just by finding a pretext to audit your taxes is smiling at you, his face full of encouragement: 'Come on, say whatever you want, don't be afraid, tell the Duke the truth!'"

"Tell the truth, damn it!"

"Tell the truth? Like, 'Hey, Your Grace, could you melt down the golden chamber pots in the palace and give us a raise?'"

"Dare to say that to my face? The officials will have to go after the local thugs, who will then go after the boss. When the boss comes back, he'll melt you down first!"

"Hahahahaha..."

"There's nothing we can do. They're adults, masters, lucky nobles. What's melting you to them? Hey brother, sit still and don't move. If I get shaved, it's on you!"

Slimani nodded with difficulty, trying to suppress his trembling body.

"Back then, let alone a little grumbling," the barber exhaled a puff of smoke and continued, "even if you had the biggest grievances and bitterness, you'd only dare to condense a thousand words into a pragmatic 'Life's fine, thank you, sir,' right? Hey, who can say, who dares to say that wasn't genuine? That's more sincere and heartfelt than when I was groveling and begging my boss for back wages, saying 'I know, I know, thank you for your hard work, sir!'"

“One copper coin,” one of the guys at the card game chuckled, “I won’t tell Boss Balta about this.”

Fuck you!

"Oh, you're still not satisfied? Be content," Slimani said nervously amidst the commotion. "A duke shook your hand and greeted you with a smile, what more do you want?"

The guys exchanged glances.

Slimani said in a daze, "As a duke, Lord Jann cares about the people's hardships and your livelihoods. He's much better than him, who's high and mighty and doesn't care about anything—like those people in the north, or the lords in the capital?"

The guy playing cards scratched his head: "Well, that's not wrong, but at the time, I thought... well, anyway, I just felt something was off."

"He doesn't care about a damn thing!"

The barber dropped his scissors, spat, grabbed his razor, and began trimming Slimani's beard:

"Don't be fooled by the Duke's smiling face and seemingly approachable demeanor... I know, I just know, he doesn't care about a thing! He'll probably be secretly gossiping to his subordinates about how 'those barbers are filthy!'"

“Oh, you’ve given yourself away! The Duke is a nobleman, a cultured man,” the card player said lazily. “He knows a whole host of words, all very refined, and he would never swear!”

"He's a damned duke! The lord of Emerald City!"

The barber sneered:

"What he should be doing isn't coming to our shop, grinning like an idiot, shaking hands for no reason, and then waiting for everyone to applaud and brag—what's the point of messing around with this trivial stuff? He should be sitting in the Kongming Palace signing some documents, approving some budgets, properly fixing that huge pothole in front of this street, and stopping those thugs from coming to run up credit and skim off our business. Oh, and lower the margin requirements for unpaid wages lawsuits, so that only business owners can afford to litigate..."

"Two copper coins, and I won't tell the boss!"

"roll!"

“He has to do that to make a show of it and appease people,” a slightly older guy said as he slowly poured himself a glass of water. “It’s like how Boss Fogg goes shopping from time to time to visit the other bosses. Of course, the bosses in each place are polite to his face, but they don’t really pay him any attention behind his back.”

"But the bosses are still contributing to Fogg's share," the card player reminded him.

“Emerald City is different from the Royal Capital, and we’re different from the Black Silk Clan. Giving a gift is one thing, but it’s just a way of saying, ‘I acknowledge you as my boss, but don’t bother me,’” the barber chuckled. “The bosses in each territory have made their businesses so prosperous, who would want to give up their share? As for Boss Fogg, yes, he’s the boss in name only, but does he want to interfere in these businesses like a king manages a duke? Heh heh, difficult!”

Inside the shop, Slimani just sat motionless in his chair, letting the clerk shave him back and forth with his razor.

Across the street, Thales clenched his fist.

"What are you daydreaming about? What are you thinking about?"

Thales was startled to find that it was the bored Hillay holding flowers and circling them in front of him.

"that power."

Thales sighed, recalling his battle of wits with the Black Prophet in the Secret Realm, and remarked with emotion:

"Often, power doesn't need to act at all; it can exert an unimaginable influence simply by sitting there quietly and maintaining a posture."

Hilly stared at him, remaining silent for a long time.

"Okay, it's all done. Do you want to see it?"

In the barbershop, the barber lifted the scarf and veil, and smiled as he extended his hand to Slimani.

Slimani snapped out of his daze, not even bothering to notice his haphazardly shaved head, and quickly asked:
"Hasn't Balta returned yet?"

The waiter shrugged, but didn't retract his outstretched hand:
"The boss went to see a friend, maybe he drank too much, and he might not come back."

Slimani frowned, absentmindedly took out a silver coin, and stuffed it into the hand of his assistant. The assistant was startled and quickly hid it in his clothes to avoid being seen by his coworkers.

"Alright, I see now. Did you offend someone important?"

Slimani's expression changed upon hearing this:

"You, how do you know?"

The waiter gave a sly smile:
"Don't forget, we're barbers. Who else can make someone—like you—willingly let down their guard and expose their vulnerable areas, such as their eyes, nose, and throat, so openly and dangerously to the threat of a sharp razor?"

Slimani stared at his man in shock.

“Only at this time, in this chair where people are at their mercy, will they show their most relaxed and authentic side,” the waiter said, touching the inner pocket containing the money. “At this time, the information you get is often the most reliable—we waiters were trained by Boss Balta, and we’re incredibly perceptive.”

Slimani was speechless.

"They really aren't barbers!"

Across the street, Thales took a deep breath and suddenly realized:

"The shop is just a front—these people are buying and selling underground information."

"How did you know?" Hillary asked suspiciously.

"I……"

Thales paused, then realized what he had done and awkwardly made up a lie:

"Um, you saw Slimani hand them silver coins? But that guy didn't give anything out, he just talked, so the only thing they were trading was information, right?"

Hilaire narrowed her eyes, her gaze filled with disbelief.

Thales could only manage a dry laugh.

The shop assistant patted Slimani on the chair and said to his reflection in the mirror:

"Alright, since you're relatively well-off, don't say I didn't warn you: you're in trouble."

Slimani was startled: "What?"

The man flipped his fingers, and the razor was twirled in his hands with great skill:

"Look, over there across the street, that poor guy and that flower girl, they've been standing there for ages, not kissing and not selling flowers," the shopkeeper chuckled. "They can't be breaking up after a fight, can they?"

The poor boy and the flower girl—no—Tales's eyes changed drastically!

"You mean... I'm being followed?" Inside the shop, Slimani's expression changed drastically, and he quickly looked across the street!

"Oops!"

Across the street, Thales gritted his teeth, quickly averted his gaze, and grabbed Hilly's hand:
"They saw right through us!"

Hilaire shuddered!
She pulled her hands away as if burned, clutching them tightly to her chest and tightening her gloves, letting the flowers scatter on the ground, her voice trembling:

"How—how did you know?"

“I knew it, they’re suspicious of us. Don’t look there! Let’s go—” Thales was about to stand up when Hilly, who looked unwell, grabbed his shoulder to stop him.

"and many more!"

Hilly took a deep breath and gritted her teeth, saying:
"It's too late to leave now; it will only make us more suspicious."

"What should I do?"

“Play along with me,” Hilly said, looking at the crowd of pedestrians on the street. “We’ll put on a show.”

"What kind of show are you playing?"

The next second, before Thales could react, Hilly pressed herself against him and reached out to take off Thales' hat.

"Um, wait," Thales said, feeling a little awkward looking at the girl so close he could see her eyelashes. "While I don't object, pretending to be a couple right now is a bit...and your brother will—"

"I'd never want to pretend to be your girlfriend!"

Hilly's cold retort denied him, leaving Thales feeling awkward.

The next second, Hilly stood up, tossed Thales' hat into the air, and shouted with a broad smile:
"Alright, enough rest! The show continues! Everyone, don't miss it!"

Hilly's voice was soft and pleasant, and the passersby on the street were gradually drawn to her and stopped in front of her.

Thales sat there, stunned, unable to process what had happened.

But he also noticed that the barber and Slimani, who had initially looked suspicious, were now stunned in the barbershop across the street.

The next second, Hilly turned around and glared at Thales with a murderous look.

The prince jolted awake, abruptly stood up, forced a smile, and opened his arms to the people in the street:

"Take a look, take a look! It's a pity to miss it, and it's a regret to leave! Everyone come and take a look!"

With a shout, Hilly deftly caught the hat falling from the sky, pulled out a handful of flower petals, and scattered them down the street!
As a shower of petals fell from the sky, amidst gasps of amazement from the crowd in the street, Hillary smiled radiantly and struck a pose of gratitude for the audience:
"The Emerald Festival is full of joy! From a family of magicians from a mysterious land, the street magic masters Wyatt and Wyana, brother and sister, present you with a wonderful magic show!"

(End of this chapter)