Hello, is this a letter addressed to Demon Fortress?

An organization formed because of the Spark Revolution three years ago, which brings together the elite of all the censorship organizations in the alliance.

The most elite investigators from the Demon Hunters, the Red Cross, the Holy Order, the Inquisition... were all drawn into the ranks.

And the man in front of you is one of them.

Adams had no idea how powerful the Reign of Fire really was.

All he knew was that within the city-state alliance system, the examiner held a transcendent position.

Especially in remote city-states that their alliance could not directly govern.

The censor is like a god.

Their words could determine the rise and fall of a city-state.

A single letter from them could mobilize the alliance's most elite troops.

If they suspect you of being guilty, then you are guilty.

No evidence is needed, no trial is needed.

A single glance or a single word is enough to send the lord of a city-state crashing down from his high position.

They might even disappear from the world.

Adams had seen the Firebringers do things.

The lord of a truly central city-state, far larger than White Cliff City.

Because they were suspected of "secretly funding the rebels," their entire family was wiped out overnight.

The city-state has a new lord, new nobles, and a new order of knights.

As for that old city lord, no one even mentions his name anymore.

It's as if it never existed.

Adams dared not think about it anymore.

He lowered his head and stared at the tips of his boots.

There was a bit of dried mud on the toe of my boot, from when I stepped in the garden this morning.

He suddenly felt that the mud was very irritating and wanted to bend down to wipe it off, but he didn't dare to move.

Meanwhile, in the main seat, the man was listening to his subordinates' report.

His fingers were still tapping on the armrest.

One moment, one moment.

"Buy two, get one free..."

He read it aloud softly, as if savoring the words.

The tip of the tongue gently touches the roof of the mouth, then releases, producing a muffled final sound.

Then he laughed.

The laughter was soft and low.

But in this quiet reception room, it was exceptionally clear.

"interesting."

His eyes lit up.

That kind of brightness is not the kind of brightness that ordinary people feel when they are happy.

Rather, it's the kind of brightness a hunter shows when they spot their prey.

It's the kind of brightness a cat sees when it sees a mouse peeking out of its hole.

He has been in Baiya City for half a year.

For the past six months, he has been playing a game.

fish culture.

Find out one by one those who are dissatisfied with the nobles, harbor resentment, and want to rebel.

Give them hope, give them faith, give them "knowledge".

Then, I watched them walk step by step into the abyss.

Finally, a fire burned them all to death.

He has played this game for many years.

He played in every city-state.

He thought he would keep playing like this until he died.

Until he heard that story.

The story of the "7-coin post office".

A legendary mage who rose from humble beginnings.

A transport team that delivers messages to civilians.

A man determined to break the communication deadlock caused by the wilderness.

This story made him tremble with excitement.

He immediately ended his boring fish-raising game that he had been playing in Baiya City for the past six months.

Because he had an almost instinctive intuition... this mage was his true prey.

It's a big fish.

It was the biggest fish he could catch in this remote little city-state.

Even if the other party is not the target of the Fu Huo Club's purge.

But that experience, that story... came from the bottom of society and worked for the benefit of the bottom of society.

Isn't this the perfect revolutionary reserve force?

One of the most worthy candidates for his cultivation into a true revolutionary.

The man's breathing became more rapid.

His eyes shone even brighter, his pupils dilated slightly, like two black holes that could swallow light.

The smile at the corner of his mouth turned into an almost manic arc.

His hands stopped tapping and gripped the armrest.

Knuckles turned white, and a faint creaking sound came from the wooden armrest.

"Legendary mid-tier..."

He murmured softly, his voice filled with barely suppressed excitement.

"If we could catch him..."

He didn't continue.

But his expression said it all.

It was an expression of extreme excitement, extreme longing, almost morbid.

Like a collector who has seen the collection he has always dreamed of.

Like a hunter spotting the prey he's been chasing for years.

Like a gambler who has seen the chips that can turn his fortunes around.

His body leaned slightly forward, and the candlelight reflected in his eyes seemed to burn.

It took him a while to calm down.

Loosen the armrests and lean back in the chair.

Several faint fingerprints were left on the handrail, like some kind of silent mark.

The madness on his face subsided, and he returned to that faint smile.

"The transport team..."

He murmured a word to himself, as if savoring its meaning.

"A legendary mage..."

He read another sentence.

Then he laughed.

The laughter was very soft, as if it were squeezed out from deep in the throat.

"Gah... Gah gah..."

It sounds like a crow cawing.

The sound echoed in the empty reception room, carrying an indescribable chill.

The information that flooded into his mind was like threads that he slowly strung together.

A legendary mage determined to break the communication blackout caused by the wilderness.

The invitation letter from the embers of the star was delivered to him.

That route map, so bizarre it was enough to highlight the opponent's strength, was absolutely bizarre.

And that story.

That story about "rising from the bottom".

Each piece of information is like a puzzle piece.

It was becoming an integral part of his emerging plans.

The puzzle pieces spun and combined in his mind, gradually outlining a complete picture.

The man's smile deepened.

He tilted his head and looked at the knight kneeling in the center of the hall.

She glanced at Adams, who was sitting next to her with his head down, not daring to speak.

Then he spoke, his voice very soft:

"It's been a long time... since I've been in touch with them."

He reached out and picked up the cup of tea on the table, which had gone cold.

I took a sip.

The tea soup was bitter and had a musty smell, as if it had been left out for too long.

He frowned, then relaxed his brow.

The tea dregs remaining at the bottom of the cup looked like a puddle of black sludge under the candlelight.

"Seven copper coins for a letter..."

He muttered to himself, his tone carrying an indescribable meaning.

"How about I get a share too?"

He looked up at the ceiling.

There was an oil painting on the ceiling depicting an angel descending to earth.

The angel's face was flickering in the candlelight, making it appear as if he were sneering.

The candlelight reflected in those eyes.

Like two flames burning.

"after all……"

His voice became even softer, so soft that only he could hear it.

"I'm also one of the lower class."

When he said this, the corners of his mouth twisted like a snake.

The snake's forked tongue seemed to have sensed the temperature of its prey, trembling silently in the darkness.