Chapter 920: 112. The Church Moves

“Um... the money...”

Seeing Muen keep holding the newspaper without saying a word, the little brat edged closer uneasily. He even deliberately blocked the mouth of the alley, as if he were afraid Muen might suddenly make off with the paper and “vanish into the horizon.”

“You think I’d buy one lousy newspaper and not pay for it?” Muen rolled his eyes.

“No, no, of course not. Even though some rotten bastards really do buy papers and try not to pay, how could I possibly think that of a customer like you? I was just worried about you...”

The little brat scratched his cheek, looking completely sincere. “Your face doesn’t look so good... Did you catch a chill sleeping outside? I know an underground doctor—really skilled, fair prices, honest with young and old alike. As long as you’ve got money, he can treat any kind of patient...”

“Enough, enough. I’m fine. If I followed you to some blackhearted underground clinic like that, I’m afraid the steel kidneys I worked so hard to train would get harvested.”

Muen pulled out some money. “Here.”

“How could that happen? Sure, that guy’s pretty shady, but at most he’d just knock you out and secretly draw a little blood to sell. He wouldn’t dare go as far as taking kidneys...”

The little brat muttered as he looked down at the bill Muen had taken out, and his eyes suddenly lit up.

Because it was another highest-denomination note!

His luck was incredible. Two days in a row, he had run into this kind of sucker who spent that much on a single newspaper—no, wait... rich guy!

If only more rich guys like this would show up!

“Thank you, sir, thank you, sir! Wishing you good health and all the best!”

The little brat took the bill and bowed over and over in excitement. With this money, he’d reach his goal ahead of—

“You can skip the bowing.”

Muen held out a hand. “My change.”

“Huh?”

The little brat froze. “Ch... change?”

“What else? Don’t tell me people buy newspapers from you and never ask for change.” Muen gave him a strange look. “How have you not been beaten to death running your business like that?”

“No... I do give change, of course I do, it’s just that nobody ever uses bills this big...”

The little brat stared at the note in his hand. The number printed on it was unbearably tempting. He had been selling papers for so long, and only that big brother yesterday—the one who looked a lot like the “super bad guy” in the paper—had been that generous.

So when this guy today slapped down another huge bill, he had assumed he’d be just as generous.

Who knew...

“Don’t go thinking you’ll run into suckers all the time.”

Muen gazed gloomily up at the sky at a forty-five-degree angle and muttered under his breath,

“After suffering the Kingdom’s cold discrimination and vicious slander, I’m no longer the kind, innocent man I once was...”

The current him had leveled up, grown stronger, become cold. He was now a merciless killer...

...

“First, sort out the current situation. Then dig those Salvation Society bastards out and kill them all.”

Muen made up his mind.

Even though he knew killing them all probably wasn’t realistic.

After all, in his current state, he couldn’t even get past the Witch of Repentance, much less complete that lunatic loli’s task of killing the Holy Lord of Salvation, Gaius.

But—

whether he could beat them and whether he could stop the Salvation Society’s scheme were two different things.

A real killer used his brain.

“A little obstacle like that isn’t enough to stop me.”

Muen flicked the small stack of worn bills the little brat had dug out from some godforsaken corner, then walked into an underground tavern and casually tossed the money onto the table.

“One glass of your strongest Fulgi liquor.”

“Sorry.”

The drowsy bartender only lifted his eyelids halfway.

“Special circumstances. The city’s under a liquor ban now. Respectable establishments like ours only sell nonalcoholic drinks. Would you like orange juice? The money you’ve got there happens to be just enough for one glass.”

“Ninety-eight for orange juice? That’s outright robbery.”

“Fresh hand-squeezed. Natural, green, and pollution-free. Take it or leave it.”

The bartender yawned, clearly not interested in dealing with this raggedly dressed Slavic woman in front of him.

“I see...”

Muen tapped his fingers and smiled.

“If you won’t sell it to me, then I’ll just drink the one someone else has already prepared for me.”

“Prepared for you? Hah. No one here’s going to treat some outsider Slavic woman—”

The bartender sneered disdainfully, about to throw this annoying person out, but under the dim light, once he got a better look at that deep-featured face, he suddenly seemed to think of something, and his expression changed at once.

“No one would prepare a drink for an outsider Slavic woman... except...”

Muen leaned closer and lowered his voice.

“Behemoth.”

“S-sorry!”

The bartender’s attitude did a complete one-eighty on the spot. He was trembling all over from sheer panic. “I was blind. Y-your drink is in the back already! It’s prepared! Please, come with me!”

“Thank you.”

Muen politely tipped his hat, then quickly rattled off a list of demands.

“I want hot water for bathing, food, a detailed map of this city, the garrison locations of the Kingdom Royal Guard, and... every Church chapel in this city. The sooner the better.”

“Yes, sir!”

The bartender’s voice shook. “I’ll prepare everything for you right away!”

...

Half an hour later, when Muen arrived in the room prepared especially for him after taking a quick wash and cleaning himself up a little, he found Tyron already waiting there in person.

“Y-you’re all right? I thought you...”

The moment he saw Muen, Tyron shot to his feet to greet him. They had only been apart for one night, but he looked more anxious than anyone.

If not for the fact that man and man should keep a proper distance, he probably would have rushed over with tears in his eyes and given Muen a loving bear hug right then and there.

Of course, this wasn’t because he had truly developed any deep feelings for Muen. It was because he had only just swallowed up Raskin’s territory and manpower, and was currently at the critical stage of digesting it all with his own internal situation still unstable. Naturally, no one needed the Dark Emperor’s support more than he did right now.

“What could happen to me?”

Muen sat down on the sofa, casually picked up the wineglass and glanced at it, then said to the bartender beside him, “I don’t drink. Bring me a glass of orange juice instead. Remember—natural, green, pollution-free, hand-squeezed.”

“Yes, sir!”

Sweating, the bartender hurried out. His legs even shook a few times on the way out the door.

“That piece of trash who failed to show you proper respect, I think...”

Tyron narrowed his eyes at the bartender’s retreating back, killing intent slowly rising from him.

“Tyron.”

Muen laced his fingers together and looked at him expressionlessly.

“I’m not some tyrant.”

“Yes, sir! Understood!”

Tyron first snapped to attention, then rubbed his hands together and sidled over ingratiatingly. “My lord truly is merciful. If it were me, that guy would already ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) be poured into a concrete pillar and sunk in the river. But I suppose that kind of mercy is exactly why a great man like you is destined for great things.”

“Stop flattering me. With that vicious face of yours, honestly, smiling like that is kind of disgusting.” Muen rolled his eyes.

“Disgusting? How could I— I’ve always treated you with the utmost respect. More respect than anyone—”

“Enough. Back away from me before you talk.”

Muen really could not handle this man’s transformation from the Behemoth of Bosis to the Bosis Husky. He kicked him away with one foot before finally spreading out the extremely detailed map of the royal capital and asking,

“Back to the point. What did you mean when you said you thought something had happened to me?”

“N-nothing much.”

Tyron rubbed his rear end and bared his teeth. “I was just afraid the Church had gotten you. To be honest, before I came here, I was even thinking about how to gather men and break into the Church to rescue you.”

“If you had the ability and guts to storm the Church and snatch someone back, you wouldn’t be wagging your tail at me right now.”

“My lord, what are you saying? My loyalty to you is forever—”

“Shut up. I told you to talk about the important part.”

Muen pressed a hand to his forehead. “Why would you think the Church had captured me?”

“Well...”

Tyron drew himself in, finally turning a little more serious.

“It’s because the brothers I left nearby in advance sent word... The cemetery you went to earlier has already been completely sealed off by the Church!”