Do you have a problem with necromancers?

Chapter 54 Prepare to counterattack
Rumors about the serial murders in Nancheng have been spreading increasingly recently, causing widespread panic among the public.

Ultimately, this wasn't a case of targeting prostitutes, but rather a home invasion murder, which has caused all working housewives to become increasingly fearful.

Kitchen knives, pitchforks, and pot lids that could be used as shields sold out immediately at the market. No one believed that the capital's garrison could protect the safety of the citizens; everyone had no choice but to protect themselves.

Taking advantage of the situation, the Amazon Association launched a recruitment drive, offering free training in so-called "Amazon self-defense techniques." Within days, the number of registered members exceeded a thousand, leaving Besalia utterly astonished.

"It would be better to learn some magic and poisons," the Dark Elf Queen remarked.

In this Western fantasy world, self-defense techniques for women certainly exist. Magic and poisons can overcome the physical differences between genders, giving women the power to truly protect themselves.

However, magic requires a higher affinity for spells, and poisons are a key controlled item. Neither path can be opened up, so the association can only start with Amazonian self-defense techniques, teaching registered members how to fight off thugs with their bare hands, and even hiring a few men as sparring partners.

Their task was to fall to the ground and scream miserably when they were punched or kicked by female members.

The ability to successfully defeat men after training gives these Amazon members a great sense of accomplishment and pride in becoming stronger. Even when they encounter their husbands returning home from work at night, they can't help but speak louder.

Upon hearing this, Raine guessed that Her Majesty the Queen intended to use the panic caused by the serial murders to attract more members to her Amazon Club.

This is certainly not acceptable: the longer the murder case drags on, the more it makes him, the commander of the capital's defenses, appear weak and incompetent, while the Empress takes all the benefits. How can this be allowed?

Renn is utterly loyal to the Imperial family. If he were to be dismissed for poor performance and no longer be able to serve the royal family, it would undoubtedly be a sign of disloyalty.

Therefore, we must return the favor to Duke Dacros for his previous banquet as soon as possible, and at the same time, resolve this incident completely.

Accompanied by Berthalia, Renn arrived at the Imperial City's black market.

The black market, as the name suggests, is an illegal market where stolen goods, smuggled goods prohibited by law, and even slaves are sold... Basically, it's all about the idea that if you have money, you can buy anything.

The Imperial Capital Black Market is built on an abandoned reservoir, which is also the site of the ancestral Elven Empire and has now become a den of thieves for rats.

A large man stood at the entrance to the sewers, reaching out to stop Rein and Bersalia.

"No unauthorized personnel allowed," he said in a deep voice.

“Besalia?” Renn said calmly.

Bersalia smiled slightly, preparing to use her unique poison, when she heard someone call out from behind the burly man:

"Let our distinguished guest in. He is the commander of the Golden Robe. You blind big guy."

The burly man silently stepped aside.

As Raine and Berthalia stepped into the sewers, an old man approached, bowed, and smiled, saying:

"Your Excellency Faher."

"Golden robe?"

"This is a respectful term used by us to refer to the guards of the capital under your command."

"It's probably a derogatory term."

"No, no, no, thieves and guards have a mutually beneficial relationship," the old man said with a smile. "Without us thieves creating cases, the guards of the capital would have no way to demonstrate their value in the palace."

"On the contrary, the loyal and dutiful guards of the capital can effectively prevent the circulation of illegal goods on the market and increase the price of the goods we have. Therefore, the black market of the capital will always welcome you, Your Excellency Faher."

“Look,” Renn said to Berthalia, turning to her. “A person who can become the Rat King is definitely not stupid.”

“It’s the former Rat King,” the old man corrected him. “I handed over the position last month… Of course, I won’t waste your precious time talking about me. What kind of goods would you like to see?”

"I heard you have animal fighting performances here?" Renn asked.

"Yes," the old man chuckled. "Dog fighting, cat fighting, cockfighting, bullfighting. There are also human gladiator matches, but they are only held every Sunday."

"You have human gladiatorial combat here?" Bersalia asked in surprise.

She was somewhat interested in seeing a bloody performance.

“Unrestricted duels are a long-standing tradition in our black market,” the old man said solemnly. “We’ve been doing this for hundreds of years, since the First Human Empire.” “Never mind the black market for now,” Renn waved his hand, interrupting Bersalia’s questioning. “You have cat fighting here, so I’d like to buy a cat. Do you have any?”

"Well, since you've come all this way, I suppose you're not looking to buy an ordinary cat." The old man pondered for a moment. "We have many well-trained battle cats here, proficient in everything from raising their backs and hissing to pouncing and biting. I wonder what kind of cat you prefer..."

“I want to be defeated and die,” Renn said.

The old man's expression immediately turned to one of astonishment. He turned his gaze to Berthalia, only to find that she also looked surprised.

Whether it's dog fighting, cat fighting, chicken fighting, bull fighting, or human gladiators, defeat is inevitable; no one can remain undefeated forever.

If you are defeated, you will be killed and die.

Humans, on the other hand, have family members who come to collect their bodies, but animals don't have that same level of care. Especially for carnivores like dogs and cats, their carcasses are basically recycled and reused by these black market dealers, who stop at nothing to cut costs on their food.

What does the commander in the golden robe want the cat's corpse for?
The old man was secretly puzzled, while Berthalia was shocked for a moment, but quickly guessed what it was.

The necromancer, after all, collects cat corpses so that he can resurrect them; it's not hard to guess at all.

The key question is, what's the point of reviving them?

Raine was clearly not the type to show mercy to small animals, thinking, "Oh, they're so pitiful to have died, let me resurrect them." Undead cats needed the wizard's immortality magic to survive; it would be better to just buy a kitten from the market and give it to a servant.

What exactly is he planning to do?
The dark elves' penchant for intrigue and scheming was triggered, and Bersalia's mind began to race.

Raine didn't bother to explain to her; he simply calmly paid the old man for the thirty cat corpses.

“We will deliver them to your designated location as soon as possible,” the old man said with a smile. “It’s just that the condition of these corpses may not be very good.”

"The condition?" Bersalia asked.

"It's normal to be missing an arm or a leg, or to be blind in one eye," the old man explained. "In gladiatorial combat, even humans struggle to survive with their bodies intact, let alone animals."

"It's alright," Renn waved his hand, "Send it over as soon as possible."

On the way back, Bersalia kept shaking Renn's arm and said in a coquettish tone:
"What are you going to do with those dead cats? Tell me, just tell me!"

"Think for yourself," Renn said irritably.

"I can't think of anything," Bersalia said, feigning innocence.

"You can't even figure out something this simple?" Renn sneered without any politeness. "I'm starting to doubt whether you're a pure-blooded dark elf."

Berthalia's face darkened. Although her caramel-colored skin was already dark, she still managed to display a beautiful expression of anger.

“Cats can’t talk,” Ryan explained casually. “They can help us pin the blame on Duke Darkros, leaving him speechless.”

“I understand,” Berthalia said seriously. “You need to resurrect these cats, then deliberately manipulate them to be covered in blood, making them look like they just left a crime scene, running out of Duke Darkros’s mansion, and have passersby witness it, so that the citizens will suspect that ‘the Duke is the murderer’!”

“You guessed right,” Renn said.

“No. If that’s the case, then why use a cat?” Bersalia rejected the guess again. “You could have found a dead person and resurrected him, pretending he was the victim of the Duke’s attack, and accused the Duke in front of the citizens, then pretended to die from his injuries… But that wouldn’t be enough to convict the Duke, because you can’t bring down a Duke with just a confession and no physical evidence.”

“Very good, at least it shows that I didn’t damage your brain when I was reshaping your body.” Raine said in a gloomy tone, “Legal convictions are based on the law, but some things can destroy a person easily without solid evidence.”

"Her Majesty the Queen, being beautiful and kind-hearted, is unwilling to do such a thing to the Duke, so of course a loyal person should handle it for her."

“If you’re so loyal to Her Majesty the Queen, then all of us Dark Elves are upright and kind people,” Bersalia retorted. “No, I feel you’re even more evil than us Dark Elves.”

"Nonsense, can any necromancer be kind?" Renn said dismissively.

Bersalia fell silent, her eyes gleaming with excitement and bloodlust.

She couldn't wait to see Ryan use his schemes to frame and kill Duke Darkros... Just imagining that scene made her feel like little snakes were crawling all over her body, and she felt so good that she was going to ascend to heaven!

(End of this chapter)