Chapter 351: Chris Fisher
Ever since he'd lost even to the newbie duelist Richie Burke last time, Zhou Ning's match record had completely stagnated.
Feeling the pressure from the old lady in his ring, Zhou Ning got up and went to the next dorm room, wondering if he could help her find an easy opponent to beat.
When Zhou Ning pushed open the door, he couldn't help but hiss in surprise—the small dorm room was packed with people.
Two tables were running four Yu-Gi-Oh! matches at once.
The biggest crowd had gathered around Fred and the top Warrior-deck duelist—his acquaintance, Warren Morton.
Fred was using a grim "Insect Burn" deck that was downright sadistic, while Warren's was a straightforward, orthodox Dragon deck.
The result was disastrous—Warren was completely crushed, and with Fred's obnoxious laugh providing a mental assault on top of the loss, even the onlookers felt their blood pressure rise.
"Wayne, did you notice? A lot of people in this dorm are tainted with an ominous aura. It's probably related to the poorhouse nearby," Molly whispered softly from the ring.
"Then should we check out the poorhouse later?" Zhou Ning asked.
"No. Since this place is so close to the poorhouse, it's normal for some of that aura to rub off. What I mean is—go duel already. I haven't won in ages," Molly said bluntly.
Zhou Ning: …
Do you even remember you were once the Grand Archpriest of the Ascetic Church?
You'll stoop to anything just to win!
Just then, Warren Morton sighed as his LP dropped to zero—defeated.
Fred spotted Zhou Ning and greeted him with a grin.
"Nice weather today! Isn't this the so-called 'Mortal Duelist' Wayne Sturwell? John told me he had to step out and said to tell you to come back around four. So, how about a match or two?"
"Wayne, he just called you 'mortal.' That's an insult," Molly said.
"Was that meant for me? He's clearly insulting you," Zhou Ning said, amused and irritated—after all, he'd been dueling on her behalf this whole time, and he'd even gone easy on the newbies.
After bickering with the old lady in his ring for a bit, Zhou Ning decided to grant her wish. He'd play a couple of matches before leaving—it wouldn't take long anyway.
It turned out to be a disaster.
Even with Molly's "brilliant" commands and despite Fred's streak of cursed draws, Zhou Ning was utterly trounced.
Fred's deck was disgusting enough, but combined with his endless taunts and mocking laughter, it became a triple-layered mental attack.
Zhou Ning lost badly, looking completely defeated.
Fortunately, the photobrain system wasn't interested in Yu-Gi-Oh!—otherwise, the entire thing would've been recorded.
If Fred weren't just an ordinary person, Zhou Ning would've been tempted to punch him—then beg him not to die afterward.
After losing to Fred, Zhou Ning went on to lose to his fanboy Morton and another classmate.
After an hour of torture, he ended with a miserable 0–4 record and left in shame.
Since John said he'd be back at four, Zhou Ning obviously couldn't just sit around waiting.
He left a note on the table and headed for his alchemy shop—his in-game "Grind King" had already reached Level 39, and he needed to make use of every minute.
Passing the training field, he saw that the star player Hawkins's magic-ball exhibition match had begun.
Hawkins was a high-level Fire Mage, tall and muscular, with a head of golden hair and a face like Brad Pitt's—it was no wonder he was famous.
As Zhou Ning approached, the Wind Mage opponent gathered power and sent the magic ball soaring high, trying to launch it over Hawkins's head.
Hawkins leaped with one foot, flames blazing from his right hand, and spiked the ball down with crushing force.
Amid gasps from the crowd, the ball absorbed a mass of fire-element energy, glowing red-hot as it rebounded off the ground—straight toward a little girl nearby.
Without thinking, Zhou Ning used Shave, flashing forward instantly.
He caught the ball precisely in his right hand.
At once, the magic ball's glow faded. Zhou Ning tossed it back to Hawkins with a smile.
"Careful."
Ignoring the students' chorus of gasps and admiring looks, Zhou Ning gave a polite nod to the little girl, then walked through the crowd and out of the school gates.
Even after leaving campus, Zhou Ning's expression stayed thoughtful.
He'd sensed the same ominous aura from Hawkins, and through his Qi Observation, he could tell Hawkins—just like the late Joshua Lambert—carried the scent of death.
His alchemy shop was just across the street. He was about to cross when he noticed a carriage coming from the southwest road, turning onto another street.
It was only a fleeting glimpse, but it caught his attention immediately.
The carriage was coming from the direction of the poorhouse southwest of Vick University.
The driver was a middle-aged man with graying hair and a cold, lifeless gaze—and just like what he'd felt at Count Robbins's estate, Zhou Ning sensed that the man had no trace of life.
"What are the odds?" Zhou Ning's eyes sharpened.
He was just about to slip into an alley and tail the carriage when another set of wheels rumbled from the opposite street.
Sherlock was driving a shabby carriage—following from afar.
Zhou Ning: …
That's way too much of a coincidence.
With a light leap, Zhou Ning landed beside Sherlock on the driver's seat, startling him.
When Sherlock saw who it was, he exhaled in relief.
"What's going on? Did you find something?" Zhou Ning lifted the curtain—inside sat Leandro and Ian. Zhou Ning greeted them, took a seat, and asked casually.
"We're tailing the man in front—he's Morlick, the butler of the informant Adam Aiden."
"You were right before—Adam Aiden definitely has issues. According to our investigation, the serial killer Jeremy Wayne Aiden is one of Adam Aiden's distant relatives," Sherlock said.
Zhou Ning nodded thoughtfully. He'd already suspected as much.
Aiden wasn't a common surname, and in the Bryston language it meant "sea monster"—a name only a family founded on maritime trade would embrace.
"We used True Sight to observe Adam Aiden's recent behavior. In the past few days, he's met at his home with Count Robbins and Harrison Rivers, and yesterday with Duke Browne Lambert, who just returned to Darkland from Ruins. All of these meetings were arranged and driven by Morlick."
"For the past two days, Adam Aiden's place has been quiet—until today, when Morlick went out for the first time. He stopped by that poorhouse earlier and spoke briefly with the director before leaving," Sherlock explained.
True Sight was a mysterious artifact owned by the Sunwatchers. By paying a certain price, they could view events that occurred within a specific area up to two days prior.
Zhou Ning sighed quietly—he had a bad feeling about this.
After the assassination and the loss of his son, Browne Lambert should've broken ties with Robbins and the others. But apparently, things weren't that simple.
As a Sunwatcher, Sherlock was an expert in tracking and maneuvering.
Keeping his distance, he followed the carriage skillfully without being detected.
Soon, Morlick's carriage stopped at a welfare home near Gorse Street, and he went inside.
"Let's wait here for a bit," Sherlock whispered. "We almost ran right into him earlier."
This welfare home sat at the eastern edge of Darkland—a blind spot Zhou Ning hadn't yet had a chance to investigate.
The group waited quietly outside for a while until Morlick reappeared—alongside a tall man with deep-set eyes and heavy brows.
Zhou Ning took a deep breath.
He was sure of it now—his spiritual senses picked up a thick stench of darkness and blood from the man.
A dark-side practitioner.
Nine times out of ten, this was the man he'd been searching for—Chris Fisher.