They all call me Great Master-Chapter 310 - 307: The Spirit Medium’s Note!

Muttering to himself, Malz’s gaze at the corpse turned fierce.

If Cotton had come back, what for?

Vengeance!

The dead return either to call out or to seek vengeance.

And clearly, this was not a call.

So...

That only left vengeance!

Was Cotton’s death related to the current bookstore owner?

Were the deaths of his other 118 comrades related to this person?

This time, Malz no longer hesitated.

He turned to leave the bookstore, heading for No. 2 Cork Street, but before the old sheriff could step out of the alleyway, a patrol officer came running up quickly.

"Police Chief! Police Chief!

There’s trouble at the Horn Report!"

The patrol officer’s words took Malz by surprise.

Almost reflexively, the old sheriff thought of his good friend and regular patron, Scott, and immediately asked—

"What’s happened?

Is Scott alright?"

...

The hangover made Scott’s temples throb, especially the soreness in his lower back, which was making it impossible for the young man, newly promoted to editor-in-chief of the Horn Report, to sit comfortably at his desk and work.

Fortunately, thanks to consecutive reports about his good friend Arthur, the circumstances at the Horn Report had greatly improved. Not only had he been promoted to editor-in-chief, but he also now had a separate office, allowing him to rest in a more comfortable position instead of being cramped in the hall with all the other editors.

This office wasn’t the original editor-in-chief’s office, but a separate office set aside.

As for the original editor-in-chief’s office?

It was still being used by him.

That editor-in-chief had been diligently serving at the Horn Report for forty years, almost as long as the paper itself.

Such an editor-in-chief was not going to be dismissed.

Nobody else would allow it to happen.

It wasn’t just because of the integrity of that editor-in-chief; if someone so upright could be dismissed, what would stop them from being next?

Knock, knock-knock!

With a very rhythmic knock on the door, Scott immediately sat up straight.

"Come in!"

As the words were spoken, the office door was pushed open.

Seeing the elder at the door, Scott promptly stood up and respectfully said.

"Editor-in-chief Comms!"

Comms was the editor-in-chief who was as established as the Horn Report itself.

This editor, now over sixty with white-haired and slightly stooped, still had a good spirit. Leaning on his cane, he walked briskly.

"Editor-in-chief Scott!"

In the face of Scott’s respect, the old editor-in-chief also reciprocated with the same deference.

To this, Scott felt quite helpless.

Even though he had repeatedly said that it wasn’t necessary, and that he was just a junior, the old editor-in-chief always insisted on it.

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In fact, the old editor-in-chief’s by-the-book style had been longstanding for many years.

"I’d like to treat everyone at the newspaper to a meal—as a goodbye gesture."

"A goodbye gesture?

Didn’t the chief say that you shouldn’t worry about that, and that the Horn Report would provide for your retirement?

Is it because of me?"

Scott was taken aback, looking at the old editor-in-chief with incomprehension.

When he was promoted to editor-in-chief, that chief editor had publicly declared that they would care for the former editor-in-chief during his retirement.

Such publicly declared promises could not be reneged on.

The old editor-in-chief, seeing Scott’s anxiety, immediately waved his hand.

"It has nothing to do with the chief; he’s been quite kind and never abandoned me during the toughest times!

And it has nothing to do with you; it’s you who brought new vitality to the Horn Report. You’ve done very well!"

"I chose to leave because I’ve reached the age of retirement and, moreover, I have enough pension to spend my remaining years in peace on a farmstead just outside South Los!"

"If you want to see me, you can come anytime!"

The old editor said, revealing a rare smile.

"Of course, I’ll definitely come visit you often—so which restaurant are we going to eat at?"

Seeing the old editor’s smile, Scott nodded repeatedly, making a promise.

The young editor wouldn’t forget that when he first joined the newspaper, it was this old editor who had guided him step by step towards professionalism.

"A restaurant?

Am I just a poor old man about to retire, and you have the heart to let them exploit my pension at a restaurant?

I ordered food from ’Grandma Andor’s Kitchen’, we’ll eat right here at the newspaper office."

The old editor, growing rarer still, began to joke with Scott.

Then, the old editor bowed slightly and went to personally inform the others.

He placed great importance on the ’farewell ceremony’.

Of course, it was still important to save where possible.

However, Grandma Andor’s culinary skills were still as reassuring as ever.

The midday meal consisted of a ’Common Superior Recipe’ with beef and lamb as the main dishes—an expression that came about after the Seven Years’ War.

Along with it emerged ’Intermediate Recipe’, ’Economical Recipe’, and so on.

For a significant period, ’Superior Recipe’ and ’Intermediate Recipe’ were allowed only during festivities.

For instance, an ’Intermediate Recipe’ that included offal was to be consumed only on Sundays.

And the ’Superior Recipe’ was reserved strictly for the Harvest Festival, Cold Winter Festival, Spring Planting Festival, Summer Celebration Day, and Peace Festival—only to be used on those five celebration days.

Even though time had passed and South Los had become affluent much faster than imagined, a meal of ’Common Superior Recipe’ was still something to be proud of.

Especially when it was the supersized version—

Roast beef (four servings, each 600g), beef stew with potatoes (one pot, at least 5000g), grilled lamb chops (twelve servings, each 120g), stir-fried lamb with coriander (one pot, at least 3000g), hearty lamb broth (one pot, at least 5000g), lamb fat baked apples (twelve), vegetable egg salad (twelve servings, each 200g), white bread (5000g), and various condiments (including 20g each of butter, honey, and black pepper).

Food for 12 people, delivered by two apprentice chefs from Grandma Andor’s.

Which did not include wine.

The wine was provided by the editor-in-chief.

And just after one drink, the old editor’s eyes became misty and he started to talk more.

In the end, halfway through the meal, the old editor was completely drunk, leaving Scott no choice but to support him back to his own office.

As he settled the man in his chair, Scott could see that the old editor wanted to say something, but in the end, he said nothing at all.

And there was no chance to say it anymore.

After lunch, a newly hired trainee editor was assigned to take care of the old editor, but just as she pushed the door open, the rookie female editor was so frightened that she fell to the ground—

"Aaahhh!"

The scream drew everyone’s attention.

Looking at the old editor with his throat slashed, everyone except Scott was petrified.

"Call the police!"

Scott shouted loudly.

Then, his eyes fixated on a large gold coin on the floor, his brows involuntarily furrowing.

He could be sure that this large gold coin had not been there before.

The old editor had the habit of using paper money and did not usually use coins.

’Left by the killer?

What does it mean?’

As the young editor pondered this, he suddenly saw a familiar boy run into the newspaper office. Your next journey awaits at novelbuddy

The kid was from Dar Alley, often running errands for his good friend Arthur.

Just as he was thinking this, the boy approached Scott and handed him a note.

At the same time, Wuni landed in front of Malz with another note.

Malz and Scott nearly simultaneously opened the notes.

Surprise flickered in their eyes.

Even though they were somewhat prepared, they still found it incredible.

Because the note read—

Want to know what happened?

At 8 o’clock tonight, come to No. 44 White Bird Street, and I will tell you everything at the salon!