When the plot-skips players into the game world-Chapter 1276 - 7 All Things Are Separated by This Blade

If Arsene had been a player, he would definitely know the phrase widely circulated on the forums: The stranger the lineup, the cooler the moves.

Because the most utilitarian lineup is usually relatively fixed—after all, there is always the so-called "optimal solution." Although this optimal solution is unlikely to withstand speedrunning, flawless, or self-imposed high-difficulty challenges, it always has enough versatility.

For instance, when going into dungeons, people generally don’t like to bring players of the Path of Adaptation, who are like little turtles.

In another world line, the Path of Adaptation doesn’t have the "warrior" class. This means the original Path of Adaptation is mostly either hunters or thieves. While they are quite strong in PvP... in dungeons, the damage output feels a bit weak, and they often die peculiarly due to the mechanisms where they shouldn’t die because they are hopping around...

But this doesn’t mean these professions can’t produce experts—in fact, the probability of top-tier experts emerging from such skill-based professions is quite high, much higher than those with a higher baseline in popular professions.

Just like an old saying in martial arts novels: in the Jianghu, never provoke the elderly, women, or children... that’s pretty much the idea.

Arsene couldn’t hold back any longer and cautiously asked the question that would most please Aiwass:

"...Who exactly are you people?"

Upon hearing this, the white-haired vampire and the little girl in his arms both broke into teasing yet satisfied smiles.

"’Us?’"

The two Sons of the Moon asked in unison, then chuckled simultaneously: "’Heh heh heh...’"

Their eerie synchronization was just like a puppeteer controlling marionettes and speaking through ventriloquism, sending shivers down one’s spine.

"Rather than who we are..."

"Iben" flashed a malicious grin: "Shouldn’t you be asking... why are both the Son of the Moon and Hawkeye watching this place?"

"What are you trading that can attract the attention of both groups? And what does it have to do with saving Sherlock?"

"..."

Phantom Thief Arsene exchanged a glance with Alice beside him.

At this moment, their expressions became unusually complex.

It was by no means a confused state of not knowing anything. They were very clearly aware of their current tense situation.

In other words, they even knew that both Hawkeye and the Son of the Moon were already watching them.

—Knowing this, they still dared to act?

Seeing their reaction, Aiwass, disguised as "Ritual Master Ibn," raised an eyebrow.

He observed Iben for a while, then shifted his gaze, looking at Alice.

Aiwass straightforwardly asked, "If I’m not mistaken... what you’re trading isn’t valuable, right."

His words seemed like a question but sounded like a statement.

"No..."

Alice instinctively responded.

And Aiwass continued to press: "Is it related to Mr. Arsene?"

"I..."

Alice suddenly realized she had said something she shouldn’t have, so she instinctively turned to look at Arsene.

Even though she and Arsene were not exactly familiar, having only met twice... under such immense pressure, she still felt intimidated.

However, for Aiwass, not answering was also an answer—clearly, it was related.

"Is it related to Sherlock?"

Aiwass watched Alice’s eyes and immediately said before she could respond, "It seems it’s not involved, or you don’t know—it’s related to Arsene’s disguise technique?"

"Ugh..."

"Hmm, related. So is it some kind of material? No, then is it intel? Neither..."

Aiwass did not need her to respond at all.

For the inexperienced Alice, her instinctive gaze, movements, and reactions were enough to expose her true thoughts.

That is far more credible and naked truth than words considered and organized—closing one’s eyes wouldn’t help. For a Fifth Power Level Son of the Moon, even at this distance, he could easily hear Alice’s heartbeat and the subtle scent of her blood as it tensed or relaxed.

"...That’s enough."

Arsene reluctantly interrupted the ruthless pursuit by "Ritual Master Ibn": "I’ll just tell you... there’s no need to bully her like this. She’s just a little girl... and we’re sort of half-allies, aren’t we?"

He didn’t directly say they were allies—after all, he couldn’t be sure what these people’s true attitude towards Sherlock was. With respect and caution toward Sherlock, even if the other party suddenly turned into the form of Aiwass the Pope, he would never easily trust the other person’s identity...

If such important information concerning a friend’s safety could be deceived so easily, he wouldn’t be Arsene.

Whether the other party is friend or foe, as long as the other party is equally uncertain about his stance, he has room to maneuver. And his trump card is more information about Sherlock—if the other party is considered a friend, then they can rescue Sherlock together; if the other party also intends to take away Sherlock, he can drive the tiger to swallow the wolf in time...

On the other side, clearly aware that she had inadvertently exposed too much information, Alice was becoming teary-eyed.

He sighed, lifting the overly light suitcase with one hand and placing it on the table.

"Oh?"

Aleister, using the kind of long-drawn tone characteristic of Aiwass, teased, "Is it okay to open this thing directly in front of everyone?"

"No problem. After all, strictly speaking, it’s not really a treasure..."

Arsene said, taking out a small key and unlocking the suitcase.

The suitcase, which appeared to be very heavy, contained very few items.

Opening the suitcase, inside were three or four pieces of women’s clothing. They seemed to be in the same style as what Alice was wearing. There were also jewelry boxes stacked neatly like lunchboxes. Although the suitcase felt light earlier, it now made loud clattering noises because they had been shaken to the edge of the suitcase from their wrapped state.

Aleister saw this and looked at Arsene with a gaze usually directed at a pervert: "Is this... what you’re going to wear later?"

Arsene was known as the Phantom Thief because of his extraordinary disguise skills. He could transform at will into an old man, child, or woman. This was clearly a special skill belonging to the Path of Beauty, under the actor category alongside Isabel.

But no matter how strong his disguise ability was, it was ultimately not a Secret Continuation level Extraordinary Skill; he could not magically make clothes appear...

Being stared at by a little girl with such a gaze made even Arsene feel somewhat uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat, avoided the topic, and whispered, "The main transaction is actually this..."

As he spoke, he retrieved a heavy key from the pocket of the third dress.

It was a silver key, roughly palm-sized, with a hollow diamond-shaped tail. It was engraved with Elvish Language runes, meaning "All things are separated by this blade."

"This is..."

Aiwass looked at the key, his expression changing slightly: "You said this thing isn’t valuable?"

"What is this?"

Even Alice, who had transported the item, clearly did not know what it was.

She was even startled—she herself did not know why this thing mysteriously appeared in her dress pocket.

She assumed the items inside weren’t valuable and related to Arsene... because she believed they were just some old clothes given to Arsene.

Yes, all the dresses and jewelry in the suitcase were Alice’s own, and she’d even worn them in public before.

Her task was simply to give her clothes to Arsene so that this Phantom Thief could portray her in public and thus enter Duke Hacourt’s birthday banquet.

The relationship between Duke Hacourt and Duke of Vandome wasn’t good, and being Arson, Duke of Vandome’s son-in-law, he obviously couldn’t enter Duke Hacourt’s birthday banquet. Yet he had to steal something crucial from Duke Hacourt... That’s why Alice cooperated with him.

Originally, this was Hawkeye’s mission—it was said that Hawkeye had formed some rare common interest with this righteous thief.

But when Alice saw this unfamiliar key, she realized something was amiss.

—These clothes were all individually found from her home! She had specifically checked all the pockets before putting them in the suitcase to see if anything was accidentally left inside... After all, once given to Arsene, she wouldn’t want them back.

Giving her clothes to this Phantom Thief, a darling in the Iris Flower pool, wasn’t something Alice, bold and mischievous, found hard to accept. However, wearing clothes worn by others... just thinking about it made Alice uncomfortable, even itchy.

She immediately stood up, somewhat cautious, distancing herself half a step from Arsene.

—Though naive, she was still an assassin.

Now, her instincts clearly told her she was being used!

Obviously, the information given to her and to Arsene by the middleman was completely different from the start! She had no idea about the full scope of this transaction... If not for the sudden appearance of this "Iben Ritualist," she’d probably still be complacent about completing her organization’s mission.

Alice only felt a chill all over. Although it was the hot early summer, and she was in a bustling, oven-like bar, she felt a wave of tinnitus...

...Such secret transactions, Alice had discreetly completed many times leveraging her status as a Duke’s daughter and her profession as a journalist.

Each time, the purpose was "to eliminate the Son of the Moon," "for those poor and pitiable children."

But now, who knew how many contraband capable of making someone overnight rich were hidden among those "goods full of hope" she transported?

How much deadly stuff was inside? And how much contained sensitive files or items that could cause a crisis for the Hacourt family if discovered?

If she had willingly transported them, it would be fine, but she was unaware of these matters from the beginning—this was undoubtedly vile deceit.

—Though experienced in the realms of Transcendents and adventurers, Alice’s experience as a "new noble" was rich enough.

Once suspicion begins, it cannot end. It is like cancer, depending on the tumor called "deception," from which it draws nutrients to grow.

She instinctively balanced, thus protecting herself: "That’s right, Mr. Ibn..."

This content is taken from (f)reewe(b)novel.𝗰𝗼𝐦