I'm a proper student; I only take nine kinds of potions every day.

The old man turned to look at Evan: "On the secular side, you need to have your own reasons and explanations, don't leave any loopholes."

Evan grinned: "Don't worry, Doctor. I've already thought it through."

He then took out the pouch, which still exuded a strong spiritual aura, from the inside pocket of his tattered suit and gently weighed it in his palm.

"PhD."

A hint of anticipation crossed his face: "Do you think I can use this ability?"

Armitage didn't answer directly, but instead asked, "Do you think this ability is suitable for your system?"

Ivan curled his lip, his face full of undisguised disdain.

"……Rubbish."

He summed up the assessment in one word.

"Can it be converted into cash?"

Armitage couldn't help but laugh out loud at this series of reactions.

"Sure, that's a considerable sum of money."

Ivan's eyes, which had been filled with the weariness of a full stomach, suddenly lit up.

"How many?!"

Before the two men could speak, two policemen ran out and shouted.

"Mr. Arkham! Wait a moment, we need your cooperation for the next steps!"

……

New Haven Hotel.

Outside the large window on the fifth floor, facing the central green space, the night in New Haven was already quite dark. At the end of the corridor, Karp leaned against the wall, taking out his pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket and checking it for the third time.

It's 10:30. Ivan still hasn't returned.

The usually composed expression on his square face had now turned into a heavy, gloomy cloud. As he had assigned Ivan, he was on night duty at 7:30, without fail.

A person who follows the rules, especially one who follows the rules for money, would not arbitrarily arrive three hours late. Nor would they arrive without informing the other party.

Just then, a figure strode quickly from the direction of the stairwell.

Jack.

The blond bodyguard who had been showing off to Evan in the back of the Model T yesterday now looked quite grim.

He walked a few steps to Karp and lowered his voice.

"Big brother."

He swallowed hard.

Something's not right.

Karp turned to look at him.

"The New Haven police just came to the hotel, along with a few detectives in gray coats."

Jack lowered his voice even further.

"I took the opportunity to inquire about the people on Alcott's side... a dozen or so people, none of them came back."

Garp's brow furrowed sharply.

"besides……"

Jack felt like something was blocking his throat.

"According to the eyewitnesses at the front desk... this evening, Arkham was taken out of the hotel by a guy."

“That guy’s name is… Albert Trus. He’s Dennis’s sidekick.”

Garp's face darkened in that instant.

He worked as a bodyguard for the Hearst family for twenty-four years, and by leveraging the family's resources, he controlled a vast intelligence network and a network of informants.

He knew a little about the dirty tricks Alcott and the Phoenix Brotherhood had played in this city.

More than just knowing.

He even remembered the names of several girls who, after being manipulated by those guys, jumped off buildings, into rivers, or hanged themselves in their own closets in despair.

"A filthy and despicable person."

He squeezed out those eight words through gritted teeth, his tone devoid of anger, but filled with a deep-seated disgust that had been weighing on his chest for many years.

At that very second, a commotion erupted from the direction of the oak door at the other end of the corridor, leading to the noble ladies' quarters.

Karp and Jack turned their heads at the same time and saw the door being pushed open violently, and four or five young girls stumbled out of the door.

Their makeup was messy, their eyeliner was smudged by tears, their hair hung crookedly, and their clothes were obviously put on in a hurry, with some buttons fastened in the wrong place and some lace trim still tucked into their collars.

Every pair of eyes carries the same thing.

Confusion. Fear.

And a kind of waking state, like being forcibly dragged out of a nightmare, still shaken.

Why am I here?

The first girl clutched her hair, her voice trembling.

"That damned Alcott defiled me!"

The second girl clutched her arm, her eyes red and screaming.

"He even forced us to have sex with that slut Albert!!"

"Alcott! You deserve to go to hell!!"

"I want to go home! I want to go home, waaaaah..."

……

The sounds echoed one after another in the long corridor on the fifth floor.

The entire floor erupted in chaos at that moment. The crying was so loud and shrill that it didn't sound like the kind of sound a "spoiled rich girl" would make.

Hearing the noise, many noble ladies living on the same floor opened their doors.

They draped themselves in silk nightgowns, half of their bodies protruding out, their hands holding teacups suspended in mid-air.

Then they realized that the girls in the corridor, who were crying, were not strangers.

They were students at the University of Wise Men, and friends who chatted and laughed with them regularly. They were all daughters of wealthy businessmen from upper-middle-class families with some financial resources.

Their names, their families, and their frequent presence at their salon gatherings—they were all acquaintances.

But at this moment, the words and actions of these acquaintances... were beyond their comprehension.

Amidst the wails of bullying, every pair of hands holding a teacup, every face covered with night cream, ceased their idle chatter and froze in place.

Karp leaned against the wall and muttered to himself.

"This has blown up."

Jack swallowed hard, not daring to reply.

Something big is going to happen tonight!

While the corridor of the New Haven hotel was in complete chaos, seven or eight people had already gathered at the scene on the suburban highway late at night.

The middle-aged sheriff who had been chatting and laughing with Dr. Armitage and was impeccably polite was now squatting alone in the middle of the road.

He extended his white-gloved right hand from under his police cap and scanned the footprints that stretched into the distance inch by inch.

Each footprint is at least fifteen meters apart.

Each indentation was more than two inches deep into the loess road surface.

The Ford Model T next to it had its roof neatly torn in half, the ripped metal roof curling up to both sides like a piece of cardboard that had been carelessly torn apart.

The sheriff looked up, his brows furrowed tightly.

Are you sure this is a witcher?

The sheriff's name is Len, and he is one of the leaders of the entire New Haven Police Department's Extraordinary Side.

His ancestors were veterans who carried the Stars and Stripes during the Civil War, and the profession passed down through generations in his family lineage was that of a knight.

Today, each city has four extraordinary departments: the police, the church, the nobility, and the chamber of commerce.

To facilitate investigations and reduce costs, the police force primarily consists of witches, sorcerers, and wizards.

This group has limited prospects and a low ceiling, but they are quite useful for handling basic supernatural events, remote communication, and rapid message delivery.

They are responsible for the city's basic security, earning the least amount of money while doing the hardest and most tiring work.

"Sir, I am absolutely certain."

The lowly witcher who had just met Ivan by the roadside took over the conversation.

His name was Marlowe, and the second button of his black trench coat was still fastened incorrectly at the collar.

"Golden vertical pupils, white hair, and traces of a magic potion."

He paused for a moment between each feature.

"He is definitely a witcher."

As they spoke, a faint glow, tinged with orange sparks, suddenly rose from the shadowy patch of weeds along the roadside.

The ball of light spun halfway in the air and condensed into a human figure. A blond young man wearing a black leather jacket walked out of the ball of light.

The most striking feature of his entire being was his pupils, with five colors swirling within the irises, like some kind of meticulously polished cat's-eye gemstone.

The young man's name was Palli. He was a monk.

The three giants of the sewer system gathered together.

"Boss."

He walked a few steps to Lenn, taking off his gloves as he went.

"It's basically confirmed that this guy chased us all the way from the old textile factory ruins in the south of the city."