Chapter Thirty: The Demon

“Andoru, why on earth are there Hunters at the Bran Manor?”
Inside the carriage, Ye Ran’s face was still dark with anger.
Though Torrent City was a free and prosperous place, it showed zero tolerance for dangerous races. Even trolls were kept outside the gates—so how could Hunters be allowed in?
There was a clear decree within Torrent City: if any dangerous race was discovered inside, it had to be dealt with immediately.
Dealing with them meant either expelling them from the city or, in severe cases, killing them on the spot. There was absolutely no way such beings could remain within the city walls.
Andoru’s brow was drenched in cold sweat. He stammered, “I don’t know... The people inside the manor haven’t finished their investigation yet...”
“Wait for them to figure it out?”
Ye Ran exploded at once, pointing at Andoru and cursing, “Damn it, Freya and I almost died in there. Something this serious happens, and those bastards at the manor tell me to keep quiet. Even you stand with them—what? Our lives aren’t worth anything? They don’t even owe us an explanation?”
“Give those useless fools a hundred years and they still wouldn’t sort it out!”
He had completely lost his temper, his voice rising to a shout. His hand shook as he pointed at Andoru.
They had only spent two hours at Bran Manor, but for Ye Ran and Freya, it felt as if they’d walked through hell.
What infuriated Ye Ran most was that the manor’s guards actually told them not to speak of the Hunters.
Andoru not only refused to help him but meekly tried to smooth things over.
Any goodwill Ye Ran had felt toward the fat man vanished instantly.
Andoru’s expression was grim. He said, “Ye Ran, I can’t argue with you, but honestly, I’m doing this for your own good. There’s so much about this city you don’t know. Take my advice—let this matter go for now...”
“Damn it, Freya, let’s get out.”
Before Andoru could finish, Ye Ran could take no more. He grabbed Freya’s hand, ready to leave the carriage.
Andoru caught him, almost pleading. “Ye Ran, I beg you. If you still want to leave after hearing me out, I won’t stop you. At least, for the sake of all the years we’ve known each other, let me finish what I have to say, alright?”
“Bran Manor doesn’t just have Hunters. It has all the forbidden things in the city—Dark Elves, Trolls, Nightwalkers... Outsiders can’t possibly see through what goes on in a place like that.”

Ye Ran gritted his teeth and sat back inside the carriage, his face cold and silent.
Andoru sighed, gathering his thoughts. He said, “Ye Ran, this city looks free, but it’s rotten to the core. The old men in power will never let go. Bran Manor, in the end, belongs to the great nobles. The Hunter that attacked you was likely nothing more than a pet kept by some powerful figure.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to help you investigate—really, Ye Ran, think about it. Bran Manor has never had an incident with its guests, but now, something happened. The noble bold enough to let Hunters run wild must be incredibly influential.”
“If we hadn’t agreed to keep quiet at the time, we might not have made it out alive. I don’t know how much power the noble sheltering that Hunter possesses, but we certainly can’t fight him. Ye Ran, I know you’re impulsive and willing to risk your life, but what about Freya?”
At those words, Ye Ran, who had been trembling with rage, suddenly fell silent.
He realized that he could gamble his own life in a desperate fight, but Freya? She was only nine years old—should she die here, without reason or explanation?
Andoru’s words revealed much. Who were the old men in power in this city?
These nobles dared to keep Hunters, openly flouting the ban. Could they truly bend the city to their will?
He, the victim, couldn’t even deal with the rabbitfolk waitress—how could he hope to take revenge against the one who kept her?
He felt the anger swelling in his chest, unable to vent it. He slammed his fist against the side of the carriage, making the whole vehicle shudder.
Andoru sighed, “Ye Ran, I know you’re angry—I understand. When my father died, my wolfish uncle came with his people to claim the inheritance. I was furious, humiliated, ready to grab a knife and fight them to the death. But looking back, I’m glad I held back. Otherwise, I might not be alive today.”
“Look at me now. I endured, and after absorbing the cloth shop and the winery, I can stand toe-to-toe with that wolf. Sometimes, a person needs to swallow their pride. Revenge for a gentleman can wait ten years. Ye Ran, hold on to your anger—only by surviving and growing stronger can you hope for revenge.”

The carriage turned a corner, slowly entering Mudbrick Street.
Bran Manor, bathed in moonlight, stood by the quiet river bay. The corridor behind the bay snaked toward the eastern garden.
Beyond the garden lay the detached villas, separated by green turf. These villas were the most mysterious places here—even someone of Andoru’s standing could not enter.
Tonight, however, a rabbitfolk waitress walked boldly past the guards at the gate, following the path straight to the third villa on the left.
In the pitch-black night, the villa was just as dark inside. She reached for the door handle, and the front entrance swung open.

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
The villa’s interior was vast and empty. Three long shadows stretched across the floor, cast by the eerie moonlight.
In the center stood a man in a black woolen coat, one hand behind his back, the other gently swirling a wineglass. He faced away from her, so she could not see his face—only his tall, slender silhouette.
To his left stood an especially large figure, so tall he nearly touched the ceiling. His body was knotted with bronze muscles, and in his hand he gripped a massive axe. Strangely, his head was not human, but an enormous bull’s head.
On the right was a woman in a black evening gown. Her figure was alluring, her face seductive—she was a famous witch from the Demon Realm.
The rabbitfolk waitress knelt on one knee, about to salute, but the witch’s whip lashed down hard across her back.
A crisp crack echoed, and a glaring welt appeared on the waitress’s face, blood slowly seeping out.
She did not move, and then came another sharp crack...
After a dozen lashes, when the rabbitfolk waitress was covered in wounds, the man finally spoke gently, “That’s enough.”
The witch put away her whip. “She can’t even endure hunger. Is there any point keeping such a useless rabbit?”
The man replied, “She’s a special Hunter. Hunting gods is a compulsion etched into her soul.”
The witch covered her mouth, laughing softly. “So she’s a killer of gods. But why can’t she even kill a child god or a human without any innate power?”
The man said, “It’s not that the rabbit can’t kill them.”
“Oh? How so?” The witch’s eyes swept over him.
“The young goddess’s identity is rather interesting. The rabbit’s orders were only to force out any power she might possess. A pity...”
...