Mystic Overlord: Reading Gives Strength
Chapter 115: The Blacksmith

Chapter 115: Chapter 115: The Blacksmith

He gathered complete information about the three mysterious individuals from the Pastor.

To be safe, Ronald first went to see the Herbalist and the Carpenter.

According to the Pastor, these two individuals had family records of residing in Seraphis for generations and had a clean background, making them suitable to approach first for information.

—And that was indeed the case.

Running around the village, it took less than an hour for Ronald to negotiate separately with the Herbalist and the Carpenter.

At the time of this morning’s incident, their whereabouts were corroborated by others, full proof of their absence that alone was enough to clear them of any suspicion.

Then, there was the remaining Blacksmith.

Since he came from another country, he was naturally the most suspicious, but considering the previous investigation by Willard’s trio, Ronald didn’t take it too seriously.

The main purpose of inquiring about these three mysterious individuals was to gather information.

Even though Pastor Conni had no intention to hide any news from him, what he knew was still too little.

However, when Ronald arrived at the Blacksmith’s shop,

his expression became solemn.

It was nearing noon at that moment, yet the doors to the Blacksmith’s shop were closed, and given the deserted look of the entrance, it didn’t seem like it was going to be open for business today.

"..."

After silently observing the Blacksmith’s shop for a few seconds, Ronald casually stopped a villager passing by.

"Young man, isn’t the Blacksmith’s shop opening today?"

The young man he stopped was startled first, then answered somewhat confusedly,

"How would I know that?"

"But as for the Blacksmith’s shop... it seems like it hasn’t been open since yesterday afternoon."

"Thank you."

After briefly expressing his thanks, Ronald’s gaze grew more serious.

Without further ado, he turned and walked in the direction of the Blacksmith’s home.

He had already asked the Pastor for the addresses of the three men, so it didn’t take long to find the place.

It was a nondescript residence not far from the Blacksmith’s shop.

Ronald walked straight up and knocked on the door.

Knock knock knock—

Three knocks sounded, but there was no response from inside the house.

Was it really empty?

Or was the Blacksmith living here the true mastermind behind all this?

Or perhaps a new victim of the "Magic Book"?

Faced with all these possibilities, Ronald couldn’t afford to be careless.

He drew the pistol from his pocket and concealed it in his sleeve before calling out again,

"Is anyone at home?"

"This is the last time I’m asking! If no one answers, I’m going to force my way in!"

Bang bang bang—

Three knocks louder than before echoed.

Yet, what lay before Ronald was still a silent house.

Silently counting to five in his mind, Ronald hesitated no more and kicked hard against the front door.

Crack!

The distinct sound of wood splitting was heard, and then the door slid open inward.

Such was the force of his kick that even the bolt locking the door broke in the middle.

However, accompanied by the grating noise of the wooden door dragging on the ground, the opened doorway was still empty.

No ambush from enemies, no horrifying discoveries.

"..."

Ronald looked around.

Because of his action, several villagers passing by were now looking his way.

For him, this was clearly not favorable.

He shook his head silently, walked into the room, and casually pulled the dragged-down door back to the entrance.

Bang!

He forcefully shoved the door back into its frame and secured it from the top.

After completing this step, Ronald finally had the opportunity to take a closer look at the condition of the house.

Compared to the fisherman’s home from before, the ironsmith’s residence was truly outstanding, definitely one of the better kinds amongst ordinary folk.

There was a hallway, divisions, and flooring.

In the living room, which was reasonably well-lit and ventilated, there were traces of long-term habitation everywhere.

There was unfinished clear water in the cups on the table, uncleared ash in the cooled fireplace, unlocked and slightly ajar windows on the room walls—all signs that someone had recently lived here.

"Hmm...?"

As Ronald was surveying his surroundings, his sharp hearing vaguely picked up a sound.

—It was the heavy breathing of "hu hu hu."

To draw a comparison,

it felt like the heavy, labored breathing of a patient with a severe cold and fever, so weak from illness that they could only lie in bed and gasp for air.

Click—

Ronald pulled the opened window shut with his left hand, pulling the curtains over it for good measure.

At the same time, a black tome emerged in his hand from the wide sleeve of his right arm.

"Its name is Styx,

And the dark waters flow downwards, cascading to the gloomy and perilous cliffs below.

..."

As he softly recited the verse, the black fog that answered his call immediately spread outwards, rolling fiercely towards every corner of the room.

In the blink of an eye, the entire floor of the house was carpeted with a thin layer of black fog.

Subsequently, the ability for emotional perception made Ronald aware of the situation.

At this moment, aside from himself, there was only one other person in the ironsmith’s home, located in a room on the side.

The black fog paved the way in front of him.

Just as Ronald was about to go there, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

—He suddenly had a new idea.

The black fog in front of him layered up a few times on the floor.

Only then did Ronald step forward.

His footsteps landed on the stacked layers of black fog, and almost no sound was made due to the cushioning.

Quietly arriving at the room where the person was, Ronald looked sideways into it.

That one look provided some answers to the questions in his heart.

In the room, Ronald saw a man lying on the bed, his complexion pale and his body weak. Even more exaggerated was the way the man’s skin hung loosely from his body.

The overall appearance was that of someone whose flesh had been drained away.

Turning to gaze at the man from the front, Ronald couldn’t help but wonder about his current state.

Without further ado, Ronald waved his hand.

The black fog spread over the bed and soon enveloped the man lying there.

After completing such preparations, Ronald called out the man’s name:

"Hey, Edmund, can you hear me?"

"Are you still conscious?"

"..."

The continuous calling seemed to awaken the man on the bed.

Hearing Ronald’s voice, the ironsmith’s weak eyelids twitched slightly.

After several breaths, he managed to pry his eyes open just a sliver.

When he saw that the visitor was dressed in the standard investigator’s outfit of a long coat and hat,

his eyes became exceptionally complex.

"Uh... ah..."

With a voice barely discernible, the man struggled to gesture towards the side of the room with his finger.

After this action,

the ironsmith’s arm, that he had desperately propped up, immediately fell back onto the bed, powerless.

His eyes then shut again, continuing with the heavy, rapid breathing that had begun earlier.

"Hu hu hu—"