Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1056

"Spill it? No, my hands are quite steady. Even my cat can't escape my grasp... Still, Mr. Siannod, judging by how rusted this box is, these potions must have a remarkably long shelf life."

Jenkins remarked as he went to administer the potion to the captive. Having studied the basics of potion-making with Old Jack, he knew that most concoctions expired quickly, yet this iron box looked as though it hadn't been opened in at least a year.

"Hmph. The shelf life of a potion can be extended through certain special methods, things humans are simply unaware of. The technique I use is unique to elves. It's a bit tedious, but quite effective. If you're interested, there's a notebook under the fish tank in the living room—the one with the sun-faded cover. The section on potion preservation starts on page twelve. Just be careful with the fish tank when you get it. Don't knock it over."

On matters unrelated to elves and bloodlines, the old elf was an open book, satisfying all of Jenkins's curiosities. He was even willing to share a technique as closely guarded as the elven method for preserving potions without a second thought.

Jenkins was touched, but at the same time, his curiosity about the Williams family's own lineage grew even stronger.

The old elf's hypnotic potion had an immediate effect. The man, who had been feigning unconsciousness, was forced to swallow the dark green liquid and instantly grew drowsy and docile.

"I wonder if this potion would work on cats."

The thought flickered in a corner of Jenkins's mind. The cat nestled on his lap lifted its head and shot him a look of utter disdain.

"Justin Koland Edwards."

The man, bound with iron wire, spoke in a perfectly flat tone. His gaze was vacant, his normally brown eyes now a deep, murky green—one of the few side effects of the potion.

The answers to the first two questions were acceptable. Jenkins glanced at the old elf, who nodded, signaling that he could proceed to the more critical questions.

"Are you a member of the Gearsmiths' Guild?"

"Then what organization do you belong to?"

"I am a junior member of the Quill Club, a lifetime member of the Nolan City York Town Firearms Enthusiasts Association, a silver card holder at the Goldfinch Auction House, and the vice..."

"What cult do you belong to?"

Jenkins rephrased the question to stop him from rattling off more trivialities.

"I belong to the Dead Man's Whip. I believe in the great Lord of Slaughter."

This answer came as no surprise. After all, few people would tattoo the emblem of a heretical cult onto their skin for no reason.

"Why did you come here?"

"To find Bruce Siannod. The High Priest wants to find him."

"Why does he want to find him?"

"I don't know. The High Priest only said that if I found him, I was to give him the letter."

Jenkins repeated, and both he and the old elf looked toward the pile of Justin Koland Edwards's belongings on the desk. To prevent any accidents, Jenkins had confiscated everything, and among the items was indeed a letter.

With a quick glance, he confirmed it was just an ordinary letter, then stood up, retrieved it, and handed it to the old elf. The elf lowered his head, read it swiftly, and then passed it back to Jenkins.

"This is somewhat unexpected. They actually want me to bear the tattoo of the Exotic Tide as well. I didn't think anyone still remembered a dying old man like me."

The letter was worded just as he said. Though the tone was polite, it contained words that carried the weight of a command. At the end, the unnamed High Priest offered cordial inquiries about the old elf's health and reminded him that the Dead Man's Whip could find his next residence whenever they wished.

"Looks like it's time to move again."

The elf grimaced, pushing himself up with one hand on the bed. While Jenkins was reading the letter, he leaned forward slightly and posed another question to the captive.

"Do you know anything about this Exotic Tide?"

"The church wishes to obtain this great power to forge true slaughterers, proving our Lord's greatness and our strength to the world through the power of slaughter."

If that was their only goal, there was no need to come to a high-risk city like Nolan. Quietly performing the ritual in the countryside, where the Church and the Kingdom had less influence, would have been the wisest choice.

"That is what the High Priest told us."

The captive answered honestly.

"Do you have any other suspicions?"

The old elf pressed, his long years having taught him more than just how to approach death.

"The High Priest concealed something important. I noticed that for the past few months, the church has been collecting materials for a blood sacrifice. Moreover, early last week, a Cursed Item broke into the church's secret ritual site. The chaos it caused led to a mutiny. The traitors stole the core material for the blood sacrifice. The Cursed Item flew into a rage when it couldn't find what it wanted, and the church suffered heavy losses."

The old elf couldn't make sense of this information. While he was well-informed, he didn't know everything. Jenkins, however, caught the key detail. He looked up and asked for confirmation.

"Did this Cursed Item have bronze skin? Was it stout, like two large jars stacked on top of each other, with twelve fingers?"

"Yes. Although I didn't see it myself, your description matches the accounts of the survivors."

The captive replied. An "I-knew-it" expression spread across Jenkins's face.

"It's A-05-1-4490, Lucky Misfortune. I knew it was after the umbilical cord. That last Mysterious Realm was premeditated. It must have found the traitors from the heretical church who took the cord, but for some reason, it couldn't touch the cord directly in the material world. That's why it went to such great pains to improperly use a Mysterious Realm."

This explanation made perfect sense and connected all the recent events. After the Evil God's scion was born, its umbilical cord was divided into several pieces and left behind in the material world. When the organization that orchestrated the incident failed, those four pieces of the cord fell into the hands of the Dead Man's Whip.

Ever since Fini's cousins' family was annihilated, A-05-1-4490 hadn't left Nolan after losing the bet. It had sensed the umbilical cord, which held the power of the scion, and attempted to seize it. It attacked the heretical cult's ritual site but failed to find what it was looking for. Afterward, it risked using the power of a Mysterious Realm, where it ran into Jenkins once again. That was what had led to the events in the last Mysterious Realm.

"Umbilical cord? What umbilical cord?" Newest update provıded by novel•fire.net

The old elf was clearly unaware of this matter. He asked out of confusion, but his expression froze as he realized that by asking, he was willingly stepping into trouble. But it was too late. Jenkins quickly recounted the events of the previous week concerning the umbilical cord.