Black Hearted Mage

To others, the cliffs might be just an ordinary coastal landscape, but to Baron Sesis, they held a secret that could destroy his fate. While the steep cliffs appeared to be a natural geological wonder, every crack in them bore the traces of the Baron's meticulously planned conspiracy.

The "earthquake" that rocked the city of Hailanza over a decade ago was a masterpiece orchestrated by the Baron. He had spent a fortune purchasing dozens of alchemical bombs and buried numerous magic crystals beneath the cliffs. Finally, on a thunderous, rainy night, this seemingly natural disaster, a man-made one, exploded.

It all stemmed from a building plan from the Executive Office. To strengthen its coastal defenses, the city of Hailansa decided to construct a thirty-meter-tall watchtower on the site of the original cliff. When the Baron learned the survey team was about to arrive, he nearly tore through the account books hidden in his secret room—the tower's view would directly overlook his secret delivery point in the fjord. Thus, through the combined influence of gold and magic, this stretch of coastline was forever altered.

As the sunset dyed the sea blood red, Caesars sat on a deckchair, watching the sunset. He squinted his eyes, watching the two-masted sailboat that had strayed from its course glide like a ghost toward the western fjord. There was no dock in the fjord, not even a flat surface, yet the ship entered it.

The tide would reach its highest at midnight, and the fjord was deep, but there was no sign of a dock. The faint black emblem on the sail reminded him of the smuggling ship of the Church of Saint Laurent, and also reminded him of the exit of the underground corridor - a hidden portal disguised by magic.

"Damn it! Tell the smuggling ship to stop immediately. Don't allow it to approach the dock now. Let them wait until nightfall!"

Baron Sesis's face turned pale after hearing the butler's report. He suddenly jumped up from the velvet sofa, knocking his gold-rimmed wine glass to the ground, and the crimson wine left a glaring mark on the carpet.

The old butler's wrinkled hands trembled as he hurriedly pulled a magical communication stone from his inner pocket. It flashed a dangerous green light in his palm. "In the name of the Baron, I command you to stop the ship immediately! I repeat, stop the ship immediately!" His hoarse voice was filled with unprecedented severity. "Until further instructions, any approach to the dock will be considered a betrayal of the Church of Saint Laurent!"

In the fjord, the two-masted ship with white sails suddenly stopped on the sea. Caesars narrowed his eyes, his fingers unconsciously stroking the dagger at his waist. Judging from the depth of the hull and its course, this smuggling ship disguised as a small merchant ship was clearly heading for the northeast corner of the fjord.

Kaisas walked to the edge of the cliff, took out a crystal, and carefully stuck it into the crevice of the rock. The facets of the crystal were just enough to record the entire entrance to the fjord and the suspicious ship.

As he entered the hide tent, Caesars felt a sudden tingling sensation on his back. He was certain that, in the distant shadows, more than one pair of eyes were watching the cliff. There had to be some connection between the unusual mooring of the sailboat and the possible presence of spies on the cliff.

The straight-line distance from Baron Sesis's heavily guarded mansion to the bottom of the deep fjord was at least two miles. This secret passage hidden in the mountainside required meticulous surveying and calculation—it had to avoid hard rock formations while ensuring the exit was at a safe height that could still be used during tides.

Kaisas tapped the rough rock with his knuckles, the cold touch bringing a cruel smile to his lips. When the smuggling ship, laden with stolen goods, left the protection of the fjord, he would turn the deck into a slaughterhouse, slitting the throats of everyone aboard and throwing them into the sea. He would move all the cargo boxes into his interspatial ring, then set fire to them to destroy all traces.

A direct assault on the Baron's mansion? The thought was crushed the moment it formed. That old fox, already adept at escaping from his former role as Earl Soren, now huddled under the title of Baron Sethis, looked even more like a greased hedgehog. According to old Garlon's soul memory, Sethis, now reduced to a baron, was at least a high-ranking Wind Warrior, not to mention the alchemical bombs, potent poisons, and various dangerous alchemical potions hidden within his storage ring. To deal with this old creature, whose survival skills were ingrained into his bones, one had to treat it like a frightened octopus: sever all its tentacles first, then eviscerate it.

When Caesars was unwilling to cut off the "Baron's" head, the real prey escaped from the underground secret passage. He only killed a substitute. If this is the case, he may never find this "old fox" again.

The night was as dark as ink, thick and indissoluble. A sharp sea breeze, carrying a salty smell, swirled and whimpered across the fjord.

The ghostly ship was tearing through the inky black sea, its prow like a blunt knife slowly slicing through the stagnant darkness as it approached the jagged cliffs to the east. The tent on the clifftop rustled in the wind, and in the oak forest fifty meters away, several pairs of eyes stared intently at the gray canvas tent through the branches.

"Let's retreat, it's too dark!"

The burliest man in leather armor spat, his iron gauntlet clanging against his scabbard. The thin man beside him chimed in, "You can't even light a torch, and the wind's blowing your eyes shut, so what's the point of staring!" Cursing, the three men emerged from the bushes, their leather boots crushing dead branches and leaves. The daggers at their waists gleamed coldly in the dim moonlight as they walked, gradually disappearing onto the narrow path leading to the city of Hailanza.

But they didn't know that a dark figure lurked in the southwest crevice. The hem of his black robe, lifted by the sea breeze, revealed a faint glimpse of a silver-embroidered magic pattern lining—a figure of skill. The figure remained motionless, like a reef, only the occasional trembling of pale fingertips peeked from his sleeves, as if drawing invisible magic patterns in the air.

The tent curtain suddenly parted, revealing Caesars's silhouette, blurred in the moonlight. He casually adjusted his mage's gloves, but his elemental senses were already radiating like mercury. He sensed the magical fluctuations sixty meters to the northwest—a companion had indeed arrived. A sneer crossed the young man's lips. This time, he deliberately forgot his signature elemental wings. A flash of blue light enveloped him, and he vanished in a flash. Three precise flashes allowed him to maneuver between cliffs, making a wide circle before turning back toward the fishing harbor.

The black-robed wizard emerged from his hiding place. He stared at the direction where Caesar had disappeared, hesitating for a long time, but ultimately didn't dare activate the tracking spell—the man's flashing precision was at least that of a great wizard. He wrapped his dew-soaked robes tightly around him. As he turned, a silver pocket watch slipped from his pocket, the hexagram etched on the watch cover glimmering in the moonlight.

The clamor of the fishing port was already audible in the distance. Caesars walked along the damp stone pier, the murky smell of fish and seaweed wafting through the mist. Several fishing boats lay at the dock like exhausted giants, their decks illuminated by whale oil lamps hanging from their masts. On the outermost decks, fishermen used iron hooks to cast silvery mackerel into various baskets. Several women in rubber aprons squatted over blood-soaked chopping boards. The scraping of boning knives against fish scales, mixed with vulgar laughter and curses, fermented in the salty, humid air.

The arrival of Caesars sent the entire fishing port into a frenzy. The fishermen worked even harder than usual. Yesterday, they had gathered to compare the gold coins given by the two masters. The gold coins given by the Master Mage shone with a pure golden glow in the sun, and could be exchanged for a full ninety-nine silver coins at the bank, even after deducting the one-silver transaction fee. Meanwhile, the gold coins given by Baron Sesis were dull, with impurities around the edges, and could only be exchanged for a little over eighty silver coins. This comparison filled the fishermen with respect for the generous Master Mage.

"Master Mage, the sea fish are being processed, and some fishing boats have gone to collect their shrimp traps!"

Old John spotted Caesars from afar and trotted over to meet him. He half-hunched his wrinkled body, rubbing his rough hands nervously. A bright smile blossomed on his old face, furrowed by the sea wind, revealing even his few remaining yellow teeth.

"very good!"

Caesars scanned the busy fishing port with his sharp eyes, his voice low and majestic, "I will give you enough gold coins, but you can't shortchange me!" He deliberately emphasized the last few words, his robe swaying in the sea breeze, and there was a faint magical power flowing around him.

Upon hearing this, Old John immediately straightened his hunched back and slapped his shriveled chest hard with his calloused hands, making a dull sound.

"Don't worry, Master Mage!" he assured in a resonant voice, a determined light gleaming in his cloudy eyes. "We are all honest people making a living in this sea area. Our ancestors have relied on the sea for their livelihood for generations. We would never do such a dirty thing! If anyone dares to play tricks, you don't have to do anything, I will be the first to throw him into the sea to feed the fish!"

Caesars nodded slightly, a flicker of satisfaction in his icy blue eyes. As a magician who pursued truth and order, he always believed in the principle of fair trade. But if anyone dared to violate this fairness—he calmly stroked the gemstone atop his staff—then magic would become the most powerful weapon to uphold it. The sea breeze blew past, and the silver embroidery on his robes gleamed coldly in the lamplight, just like the faint glow of magic in his eyes.

As the horizon remained pitch black, the bustle of the fishing harbor faded into silence. The fishermen, their faces brimming with the same joy as yesterday, disappeared in twos and threes into the misty streets. Under the cover of darkness, Caesars quietly returned to the clifftop, his sharp gaze sweeping across the fjord like a hawk.

The mysterious ship was nowhere to be seen—it was completely obscured by the jagged cliffs behind it. Realizing he couldn't determine the exact time the ship would leave port, Caesars decisively spread his wings and sped toward the west side of the fjord. From this commanding vantage point, he could see everything happening on the eastern shore of the fjord.

In the night, the unassuming two-masted sailboat sat quietly anchored beneath the cliffs on the eastern shore of the fjord, about ten meters from the rock face. Strangely, the sails had already been furled, yet the dock Caesars had expected was nowhere to be seen. Squinting, he noticed the ship's gentle swaying with the waves, its cables barely visible in the tide.

As the eastern sky paled, the dull clatter of stone suddenly echoed from the cliff's base. A stone door, barely a meter tall, quietly opened in the rock face, and a dark figure shot out like an arrow. The figure traced a perfect parabola through the air, their cloak fluttering in the morning breeze before landing firmly in the center of the deck. The entire process took place in a flash, practically unnoticed without intense concentration.

"I see!"

Caesars clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He watched the ship begin to hoist its sails. Dozens of oars suddenly peeked out from the portholes, slapping the water in unison. "I should have thought of the storage ring earlier—the person responsible for receiving the goods delivered by the ship is the key, and all the contraband is hidden in that person's ring!"

Caesars stood still, a statue in the shadow of the reef, his gray-black cloak blending seamlessly into the seaside rock face. He counted the rhythm of the tide lapping against the shore, his gaze fixed on the shallow-drafted two-masted sailboat. When the last trace of sail glided past Eagle's Beak Rock, his right hand, with its knuckles whitening, finally released the hilt of his sword.

The figure that had suddenly emerged from the secret passage caught his attention. The figure's gait was unmistakable, like a swift warrior, yet their leap onto the ship was as silent as an assassin's. Caesars narrowed his icy blue eyes. The sea breeze carried a faint clang of metal, but he couldn't tell whether it was the warrior's arm armor or the assassin's wrist blade. The three hundred yards away, combined with the thin sea mist, shrouded the shadow in mystery.

The sailors, evidently on command, hoisted the sails in unison. Twelve long oars extended from either side of the ship, rising and falling with a frantic rhythm, plowing a boiling wake across the phosphorescent sea. When the mainsail suddenly shifted to catch the full southerly wind, the ship completed the turn with a precarious heel, the magically reinforced oak sides groaning under the strain.

Kaisus silently counted to his 280th heartbeat. By this time, the sailboat had become a tiny black dot on the southern horizon. As he unbuttoned his cloak, jet-black elemental wings condensed into feathers at his shoulder blades. With an ancient Elvish incantation, violent elemental energy lifted him vertically into the air, startling the night owls nestling in the rock crevices. Before ascending above the clouds, he caught one last glimpse of the mysterious figure disappearing into the sea cave. This hunt might be more interesting than he expected.

Two minutes later, Caesars' figure landed silently on the top of the sail like a shadow. His cloak fluttered gently in the sea breeze, yet made no sound. He narrowed his eyes slightly, and several magical tentacles quietly extended from his fingertips. Like living creatures, they snaked down the mast, penetrated the cracks in the deck, and cautiously explored every corner of the cabin.

These transparent tentacles nimbly moved through the darkness, avoiding the sleeping sailors and carefully searching every suspicious corner. When the tentacles reached a cabin near the bow, Caesars' eyes suddenly widened. Through his magical perception, he clearly "saw" a middle-aged man in brown leather armor lying on his back in bed. He wore a uniquely shaped dagger at his waist, but there was no trace of magical energy flowing from him.

"So, just a high-ranking assassin..." A sneer of disdain played on Caesar's lips. To ensure complete safety, he flicked his fingertips, and a faint gray light drifted down along the magical tentacle, sinking precisely into the sleeping man's leather armor. This was a tracking mark; even if the man went into stealth, he wouldn't be able to escape his tracking. Satisfied, Caesar retracted the magical tentacle and checked his equipment.