A day later, Nora rides in a carriage with her friend Charlotte Greystone, the two of them chatting idly after sharing lunch together.

Today is Nora’s holiday from work, so she takes the chance to spend time with Charlotte before escorting her back home.

The carriage slows to a halt, yet when they look outside, it isn’t the gate of Greystone Manor that greets them but a long stretch of the outer wall.

Nora frowns and leans forward, “Why stop here, Harold?” she asks, her tone edged with confusion.

Harold answers, “Miss, there’s a gathering outside the Greystone gate.”

Charlotte’s brown eyes widen in surprise, her curls bouncing as she leans toward the window.

Nora follows her gaze and sees a crowd of poor farmers clustered at the gate of Greystone Manor.

Charlotte breathes, “That’s my elder brother speaking with them.”

Nora, suspecting some grievance between the Greystone family and the farmers, steps down from the carriage, Charlotte hurrying after her.

As they approach, Charles Greystone’s voice carries over the restless murmurs, “Don’t worry, I’ll help you reclaim your farm—now why don’t you move along for today?”

The farmers shake their heads, one of them raising his voice, “Master Greystone, you promised nothing would happen to us, that we’d be safe under your protection.”

Charles spreads his hands, frustration lacing his words, “Didn’t I send men to guard your village? Yet the Spice Gang cut them down to the last. Do you think I didn’t suffer loss as well?”

The farmers fall silent, their faces lined with despair, as Nora and Charlotte move through the crowd to stand beside Charles.

Nora asks, “What happened?”

Charles answers, “We bought blue onions from these farmers, but yesterday the Spice Gang seized their farms.”

Charlotte’s eyes widen, her voice sharp, “Brother, a small gang dares to move against our Greystone family? I heard they even killed our men.”

Charles exhales heavily, “We have no proof, and behind the Spice Gang stands the Weston family.”

Nora’s brows knit, “Lin Yu Weston.”

Charles studies her face, “You know him?”

Nora remembers their brief encounter—he was not the most handsome man she had seen, but there was something about him, a quiet gravity that set him apart.

“I met him while working a case,” she says at last.

Charles says flatly, “He is behind the Spice Gang.”

Nora turns to the farmers, her gaze steady, “Did the Spice Gang give any reason when they seized your land?”

One farmer steps forward, clutching a crumpled paper, “They said we signed a contract when we planted the blue onions for them.”

“Do any of you still have this contract?” Nora asks.

The farmer presses the paper into her hand.

She smooths it open and scans the text, her expression darkening as she finds the clause—any blue onions grown from Spice Gang seed could only be sold back to them, and breaking this term meant forfeiting the land.

Nora’s face falls, the weight of the discovery pressing on her, for legally, she cannot do anything.

A woman among the farmers pleads, “Miss, you have to help us.”

Nora hesitates before saying, “The contract clearly states you cannot sell the blue onions to anyone except the Spice Gang.”

The woman’s voice cracks, “Miss, we are poor folk—how could we read the contract? A year ago, they came, paid us silver, and told us to sign. We signed because of the money, not knowing this trap.”

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Charlotte grips her brother’s arm, her voice urgent, “Nora, brother, can we not help them?”

Nora shakes her head, “Legally, no.”

Charles’ tone hardens, “The only way is to make Lin Yu Weston return their land.”

Charlotte says firmly, “Then let us meet Lin Yu Weston.”

The three exchange glances, a silent agreement passing between them.

Charles finally turns to the crowd, raising his voice, “Everybody return to your homes—we will speak with the leader of the Spice Gang and come with a solution.”

The farmers exchange uneasy glances, uncertainty etched across their faces.

Nora steps forward, her tone firm, “I am with the police. I will do my utmost to see your land returned.”

The farmers murmur among themselves, hope and doubt mixing in their whispers.

Charles adds sharply, “But if you all remain here, I will be forced to call the police to disperse you, and then I will truly be unable to help.”

Reluctantly, the farmers begin leaving one by one, their shoulders heavy with resignation.

Once the crowd thins, the three step into Nora’s carriage, and the wheels begin rolling toward Weston House.

At Weston House, they are told Lin Yu is not at home.

Instead, he is at his office in the Department of Archaeology, where he has been assigned to decipher lost languages and translate them into the official tongue of the Griffin Kingdom.

Seated at his desk, Lin Yu’s brush moves steadily across parchment, ink flowing into neat lines of translation.

A knock sounds at the door.

Without looking up, he says, “Come in.”

The door opens, and two men in the crisp, dark uniform of the Black Guard step inside.

Lin Yu sets his pen down, eyes narrowing as the two men step inside, their black uniforms marked with the crest of the old nobles’ private guard, a rolled scroll clutched in one of their hands.

The taller of the two, hawk-faced and sharp-eyed, introduces himself, “Inspector Edmund Hale of the Black Guard.”

The other, broader and younger, follows, “Inspector Richard Pembroke.”

They remain stiff, their presence weighing heavily in the quiet office, while Lin Yu leans back in his chair, his expression calm and unreadable.

“What pleasure do I owe for a visit from the Black Guard?” he asks evenly.

The Black Guard—law enforcers of the noble council—exist to keep the extraordinary world hidden from the ordinary, handling crimes committed through powers the public must never know.

If they solve a case, the culprit is quietly erased; if not, the matter is buried just as swiftly. To most common folk, they are not protectors but “black dogs” of the nobles.

Edmund steps forward, his voice steady. “Mr. Weston, we require your expertise to decipher a language.”

Lin Yu inclines his head slightly. “Show me.”

Edmund takes the scroll from Richard’s hand and lays it on the desk. “Here it is.”

Lin Yu unrolls it, eyes tracing the design—two concentric circles, strange words inked between them, two sharp triangles linking the inner ring, and more of the same words scrawled into the empty spaces.

His gaze lingers, his thoughts tightening. It looks like a formation, though not one from this world. The script stirs a memory, faint but persistent, sliding backwards in his mind like a reel unwinding—until it stops at the dark, underground room where he first laid eyes on the stone tablet.

“Mr. Weston,” Edmund asks carefully, watching him, “can you help us?”

A knock breaks the silence.

“Who?” Lin Yu calls.

“It’s me, Elise,” comes the reply.

The Black Guards exchange a tense glance, their postures stiffening, but Lin Yu speaks smoothly, “She is the daughter of Earl Blackthorn.”

At once, their shoulders ease.

“Come in,” Lin Yu says.

The door opens, and Elise steps through, silver dress gleaming as it catches the light, golden curls framing her face. Her curious blue eyes sweep first to Lin Yu, then to the two black guards.

She crosses the room with practised grace, her tone edged with suspicion. “Why are they here?”

Lin Yu picks up the scroll and tosses it lightly toward her. She catches it midair, magic rippling at her fingertips, and lowers her gaze to the drawing.

Her brow furrows. “I don’t recognise these words.”

“To decipher them we came, Miss Blackthorn,” Edmund confirms, voice clipped but respectful.

Lin Yu turns to Elise. “Try to remember. Both of us saw some of these words before.”

Her brow furrows, lashes lowering as she searches her memory.

The Black Guards stiffen, surprise flickering across their faces.

“Where?” Richard presses.

Elise straightens suddenly, eyes brightening. “I remember. They’re the same words carved into the stone tablet.”

“The same stone tablet stolen from the ruined castle in Blackthorn Forest?” Richard blurts.

“Yes,” Lin Yu says calmly.

Edmund leans in. “Then can you tell us the meaning behind them?”

Lin Yu shakes his head. “It will take me time to decipher. This is the first time I’ve studied them properly.”

Disappointment weighs heavily in the room, the two inspectors exhaling almost in unison.

Lin Yu continues smoothly, “But don’t be disappointed—I do have something for you.”

He lifts a hand, and the shadow beneath his chair stretches outward, a dark arm slipping across the room to pluck a book from a shelf and deposit it neatly into his grasp.

He flips the pages, one after another, words rolling evenly from his lips. “I don’t recognise the script. But the diagram—I know it. This is a formation.”

Elise lowers herself onto a chair, skirts whispering against the wood.

Edmund nods slowly. “We suspected as much, but it does not match any system of formations we’re familiar with.”

“It belongs to the Blood Cult,” Lin Yu answers, arriving at a page inked with crimson sketches and turning the book toward them.

The guards lean in as he rotates it across the desk—

And the door slams open.

Three figures stride inside without hesitation, the bang of wood on the wall sharp in the silence.

Lin Yu snaps the book shut in an instant, shadows curling tight around it, while Elise rolls the scroll closed in a fluid motion.

The Black Guards draw pistols in unison, steel gleaming under the lamplight, and level them at the intruders as the door swings shut with a final echoing thud.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep