Chapter 205: Weasel out of something

Simon spread his hands. “Let’s go. Keep stalling, and heads will roll.”

“Yes, my lord.” Miriam put on a timid expression and whispered to Brinda, “We’ll improvise. If it comes to it, we fight.”

With Phield’s permission, they entered the inn.

The moment Miriam and Brinda stepped inside, Phield froze. The two sides stared at each other, wide-eyed.

Blinking, Phield thought, Are they Divine Chosen under Simon? No… they look too cornered.

Miriam forced an awkward smile. In front of Simon, their excuse had been that they were here to serve Phield. If Phield exposed them, they were finished.

“Uh… my lord sent us to… work for you.”

The moment the words left her mouth, Miriam wanted to strangle herself. She felt both tense and humiliated.

Phield fell silent for a moment, then suddenly understood everything.

The two in front of him were definitely not Simon’s people. Even if she claimed they had been sent to serve him, someone as flamboyant as Simon would never make such a sloppy arrangement—he would have brought at least ten beauties.

These two Divine Chosen were likely from the Shadow World Sect. Either way, they didn’t want to reveal themselves, so he might as well play along. Otherwise, a full-blown fight would drag him in and severely worsen relations.

A knowing smile curved at his lips. Phield said nothing—he simply nodded.

“Phew… we got through. Maybe we can even gather some useful information.”

The two Night Owl members quietly breathed a sigh of relief, standing obediently to the side with their heads lowered, pretending to be invisible.

“Baron, it’s been so long since your last visit—I’ve missed you dearly.” Florine’s snow-white skin gleamed as if waxed, eye-catching to the extreme. She wore so little it was almost as if she wore nothing at all.

Phield even suspected Simon had some peculiar fetish.

On the way here, even the commoners must have had quite the spectacle.

“Haha, I’ve been dealing with corpse tides in the Northern Region. The monsters are endless.”

Waving his hand, Phield wore a weathered expression, as though filled with untold stories. “Every day is slaughter, but I seek no conflict. I only wish to contribute my strength to the people.”

“Heh, I care more about my Vigor Elixir.” Simon rubbed his hands together, bluntly exposing Phield. “I believe you care more about your gold and power.”

“That’s right. I want more craftsmen—of every trade. Even chefs and tailors. I’m building up my territory. I believe there will be many opportunities for cooperation in the future.”

“Hmph.” Brinda scoffed inwardly. Feeding corpses, more like building—what a joke.

Simon fell silent for a moment, then nodded with a smile. “That’s negotiable. But the price will have to go up, Phield. Slave prices have skyrocketed lately—let alone skilled workers.”

“No problem.”

“Then how about the formula for Vigor Elixir?”

Simon suddenly brought it up. “I’m willing to trade a Tier-One artifact for it—worth a million. It could benefit generations.”

Even though the current Vigor Elixir trade was already bringing Simon hundreds of thousands of gold coins in pure profit, nobles only had one attitude toward wealth: not enough. Never enough.

“I’ll consider it. But not now.”

Phield knew the value of Vigor Elixir. Even as the empire’s situation worsened, a monopoly like this was simply too lucrative.

After being refused, Simon fell silent. Phield remained completely calm, fingers interlocked beneath his chin, his deep gaze fixed on Simon’s every move as he waited patiently.

As time passed, the atmosphere grew heavier.

“Haha, I believe we’ll have plenty of opportunities to cooperate in the future.”

Simon responded with a simple laugh, though a hint of coldness lingered in his tone. Phield wasn’t surprised. Tilting his head slightly, he replied firmly, “A wise choice. Your judgment is admirable.”

“You two—why are you just standing there? Don’t you understand the rules here? You’re working for the baron. You look like two rotting corpses. Don’t ruin the reputation of this paradise.”

With a fierce yet ridiculous look, Simon glanced at Miriam and Brinda. He had no idea they were Divine Chosen, assuming they were merely workers Phield had hired.

“Huh?”

Brinda trembled, every thought in her head screaming to slap Simon to death.

Miriam felt like crying. She was completely stunned. Damn it, couldn’t those intelligence agents come up with a better cover?

Now they were the ones suffering for it.

“Looks like we really have to do this.”

They both wanted to die.

Florine’s gaze swept over them. Something felt off, but she couldn’t pinpoint what.

“What do we do?”

Brinda quietly tugged at Miriam.

If it came to a fight, Florine was a seasoned Tier-Three Divine Chosen with a notorious reputation. Combined with the home advantage, the Divine Guard, and the terrifying foundation of Maple Leaf City, their chances of escape were nearly zero.

Their deaths alone wouldn’t matter—but if they ruined the rebels’ plan, it would severely hinder the overthrow of the empire.

“What are you waiting for? Looking to die? If you don’t do your job properly today, there’s only one outcome for you.”

Simon vented all his frustration on them, looking ready to draw his blade at any moment.

“Yes, my lord… we’ll begin… working.”

Gritting her teeth, Miriam made her decision. She dragged Brinda—who was on the verge of exploding into violence—over to Phield’s side and began massaging his shoulders.

“…What the hell…”

Even Phield was stunned. He had just been about to give them an out, yet these two Divine Chosen had actually swallowed their pride.

Well then—might as well enjoy it.

Both of them were clearly inexperienced.

Miriam’s body was soft and delicate, especially her nimble, fair hands—almost a delight for anyone with a fondness for hands. The restraint on her face, mixed with helpless struggle, formed an especially captivating expression.

Brinda, on the other hand, was full-figured but not to the point of heaviness—a mature, commanding beauty.

“Two temptresses.”

“Never thought I’d have two Divine Chosen massaging my shoulders.”

Phield leaned back in his chair, casually flicking his fingers. The Nightfall Domain soldiers immediately withdrew. Then he glanced at Simon. “My apologies—I’m not used to being watched by men.”

“We’ll wait outside. Florine will stay and keep watch.”

Simon was still bothered by Phield’s earlier refusal. He could only resort to Maple Leaf City’s “tradition”—a kind of obsessive test of submission, similar to drinking culture.

If the other party kept refusing, Simon would grow increasingly wary.

Because resistance meant one thing—they were not the same kind of people.

Especially after their earlier unpleasant negotiation.

Phield understood this well, so he made a concession in this regard. Besides, being served by two Divine Chosen—he might as well treat it as enjoyment.

With that, Simon turned and left. As he opened the door, he glanced back and added, “Phield, don’t forget to deliver the goods to my estate as soon as possible. And… enjoy yourself.”

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