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Chapter 17: The Hearing
🕑 Added 2025-06-30 13:06:56 +0000 UTCRussell sat in the car dispatched from The Thousand-Foot Woods Base, looking at the city scenery rushing past the window. Commander Gordon was sitting quietly beside him.
If someone had told Russell just yesterday that he would be on his way to a private meeting with the legendary Blake Whitmore, he would never have believed it. There were only three Master-level cardmakers in the entire Daming Federation. Among them, Blake Whitmore was primarily stationed in the coastal cities, a living bulwark against the constant threat of riots from the secret realms at sea. He was a figure who stood at the absolute pinnacle of their world, a man whom countless people with immense wealth could never hope to get an audience with.
And now Russell, after killing a single rebellious Black Iron-level cardmaker, was being summoned for a personal meeting. It was clear this situation was far more complicated than it appeared.
Commander Gordon, sitting beside him, saw Russell frowning and assumed he was nervous. He couldn't help but try to offer some reassurance. "Student Russell, don't be nervous. You have performed a great service this time. Master Blake must simply want to meet the young hero of the hour."
Gordon's words pulled Russell from his thoughts. He managed a small smile. "Thank you, Commander Gordon."
Soon, the car arrived at the headquarters of the New Metro Cardmakers Association. Commander Gordon brought Russell to an elevator that was obviously reserved for high-level executives. "President Jennings has already given instructions for you to go straight up," he said. He swiped his own ID card, and the elevator doors slid open.
Russell took a deep breath and stepped inside. The doors closed, and the elevator began to rise with astonishing speed. Soon, it reached the top floor.
Ding.
As the doors opened, the president's office appeared before him. The most eye-catching feature was the immense floor-to-ceiling window that offered a panoramic view of the entire city. But Russell had no time to admire the scenery. He respectfully greeted the two men in the room: a white-haired old man and a middle-aged man with a goatee.
"Master Blake, President Jennings. Hello. I am Russell."
The white-haired old man was, of course, Blake Whitmore. In stark contrast to his murderous-sounding title, his demeanor was unexpectedly easy-going. "Student Russell, don't be nervous," he said with a gentle smile. "Please, sit."
Russell sat down obediently, though he only used the edge of the chair.
The middle-aged man with the goatee couldn't help but smile at the boy's formal posture. "Russell, we owe you our thanks. If not for you, it likely would have taken us some time to uncover the truth of this matter." This was, of course, President Lance Jennings. He wasn't lying; while the Association would have eventually discovered the truth by cross-referencing which stationed cardmakers had gone missing after the other high schools were attacked, Russell's direct evidence had accelerated the process immensely.
Thinking of this, Russell couldn't help but ask, "Then, I wonder why Master Blake and President Jennings asked me to come here?"
Hearing his direct question, Blake's expression gradually became serious. "Russell, I heard that you obtained a piece of material after the attacker was defeated?"
Russell was stunned. Just for this? But he didn't hesitate, taking out the material. He didn't think a Master-level cardmaker would embezzle a single Black Iron material, even if it was gold-quality. "This is the material that condensed after the attacker's death," he said, handing it to Blake.
The moment Blake Whitmore took the material, he sighed. Having been stationed on the coastal defense line for so long, he recognized its origin immediately. "It is indeed a material produced by the [Demon's Nest]," he confirmed. "It is certain, then. The Spirit Begging Society was behind this."
Hearing the name of the organization, Russell instantly thought of Walter's last, unfinished word. He couldn't help but say, "Master Blake, President Jennings... before the attacker died, he said the word 'beg', but he disappeared before he could finish."
Jennings and Blake exchanged a sharp glance. "Russell," Jennings said, his voice firm, "keep this discovery to yourself. Do not tell anyone else." He was worried that Russell, being so young, might spread rumors, but he was more concerned for the boy's personal safety.
Their worries were unnecessary. Russell was not an ordinary high school student. He had already instinctively hidden the truth of Walter's identity from his classmates. He nodded solemnly. "I understand. Thank you, Master Blake and President Jennings, for your concern. I won't say a word."
Both men couldn't help but smile. Russell's performance was consistently exceeding their expectations. Just as Jennings was about to say something encouraging, the elevator chimed again. A young man holding a file folder came out, walked quickly to Jennings, and said softly, "President Jennings, here is all the information you asked me to check."
Seeing Jennings nod, the young man saluted the two leaders and left. Jennings flipped through the documents, his brows gradually knitting together. He then handed the file to Blake. "Old Blake, take a look. Every single secret realm that had an incident today had a stationed cardmaker who was a last-minute replacement, applying for the post only recently."
Blake took the documents and looked through them carefully. Soon, he had the answer. He sighed, a hint of melancholy in his voice. "I was wondering when the Spirit Begging Society had managed to plant so many chess pieces. Now it is no longer surprising." "Look here," he said, tapping the file. "These suspicious individuals, without exception, all had financial problems." "A sick mother... crippling gambling debts..."
President Jennings was stunned. "They betrayed the Association... for money?"
Blake shook his head. "They probably didn't expect to be turned into monsters themselves. But I have been dealing with the Spirit Begging Society for many years. This is the signature method of their leader, 'The Ghost Scale' Regent Jin." As he spoke, he turned to look at Russell, his expression earnest. "Russell, you must be careful about any offers of unknown financial support in the future."
Russell nodded. "Thank you for the advice, Director Blake. If that is all, may I leave first?" He had a feeling that if he stayed any longer, he would hear even more explosive information, and that was not a good thing for a small Iron-level cardmaker like himself.
Handing the [Flesh Demon] (Gold) material back to Russell, Blake smiled gently. "Go on back, Russell. Be careful on the road."
After the elevator door closed, Jennings turned to look at Blake. "Mr. Blake... do you think there is anything wrong with this student, Russell?" He had never fully trusted him. As the president of a city's cardmaker association, he couldn't afford to be careless.
Blake shook his head slowly. "The Spirit Begging Society would be reluctant to throw away such a good seedling." "Besides," he added, "Lucius noticed nothing wrong with him."
As Blake spoke, a figure in red judicial robes, holding a stone tablet, slowly materialized behind him: [Inquisitor Lucius].
Seeing the card, Jennings couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. "It seems this student Russell is really fine." A moment later, his brow furrowed again. "But where does the Spirit Begging Society get so much money?"
(End of this chapter)
