They all call me Great Master

Chapter 206 Slit Throat x Crow x Pigeon

"How did he die?"

Malz asked urgently.

"His throat was cut!

In a cellar in his own home—a cellar so hidden, not even the household butler knew when it had been dug up,"

the patrol officer replied immediately.

At that moment, Arthur and Malz exchanged glances, thinking of Clay who had died in the same way.

"Could this be a serial killing?"

the old sheriff instinctively asked the young spirit medium.

"Similar in nature but different in purpose—Malz, send more men to question those thirty or so young people and find out who is still alive?"

Arthur said this.

Malz was stunned.

"Are you suggesting... a murder to silence them?"

the old sheriff asked tentatively.

"If that's the case, then it's simple."

Arthur murmured softly, subtly controlling Wuni to take flight, searching for the things she cared about most at this moment.

Meanwhile, Malz yelled out—

"Dico, get everyone moving!

Quickly, quickly, quickly!"

the old sheriff urged repeatedly.

Aside from Hunter and Newt who still remained at the scene, the rest of the Shire District Police Station sprang into action.

Sitting crouched at the doorway of 17 Xilin Street, the old sheriff rubbed his swollen brow.

The cases he had encountered recently had left the old sheriff feeling drained.

Having been a policeman for over thirty years, the old sheriff felt that his first thirty years were like those of a fake cop, catching petty thieves daily, apprehending robbers twice a week, and facing a murder case only once every half a month; serial killing cases were even rarer, sometimes not seen in a year.

And now?

Murders were seen every day.

Serial killings were almost becoming the norm.

'Were we simply too incompetent before to come across them?

Or...

has the wheel of destiny begun to turn?'

The old sheriff thought to himself quietly, then suddenly turned to Arthur, who was lost in thought, and said,

"Bob would definitely enjoy these days."

"Hmm?"

Arthur looked puzzled.

"That guy, during the early days of the Seven Years' War, ended up in Daredevil Camp for assaulting a superior. Everyone thought he was a goner—yet, who knew that after the camp changed hands for the eleventh time, he was still alive, earning him the nickname 'Undying Bob'!

Moreover, his repeated combat experiences earned him the appreciation of the Daredevil Camp command, not only promoting him to captain but also putting him in charge of special training in the camp,"

Arthur listened quietly as Malz talked about his good friend.

Arthur was very committed to a crucial part of his plan.

However, he didn't inquire further but waited for Malz to continue.

"I owe my life to Bob; during a cavalry skirmish on the West Coast, he took a bullet for me. In gratitude, I spent my salary to buy him a lot of booze— the guy is a heavy drinker; when drunk, he would talk nonsense with me, claiming he should have been a noble or something.

After the war ended, I wanted to invite him to South Los, but Bob said he didn't like these peaceful times and went to become a bounty hunter. Moreover, when he left, he mysteriously told me that when we meet again, it would be when the wheel of destiny is turning,"

Malz said, chuckling at himself.

"Who turns the wheel of destiny at nearly sixty?"

The old sheriff shook his head, his eyes filled with emotion, but Arthur patted his shoulder.

In the surprised look of the old sheriff, Arthur said very seriously.

"Some took on a divine battle at the age of seventy-two.

Sixty isn't too late!

You could even say it's just right!"

"Just right?"

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The old sheriff asked quietly.

Arthur nodded more seriously.

"Trust me, it's just right!"

The old sheriff was stunned and then muttered 'just right, just right' to himself, his expression gradually regaining vitality.

Seeing this, Arthur finally breathed a sigh of relief.

He didn't want one of his important partners to start thinking about quitting.

This simple, kind-hearted, and upright spirit medium not only had to tread carefully but also had to keep an eye on his partners' morale from time to time. Who could understand the difficulty?

Whew!

He took a deep breath inwardly.

The young spirit medium spoke again—

"Malz, do you have any dreams?"

"To retire!"

"Besides retiring?"

"To hold my grandson!"

"And besides those two?"

"Hmm... I want to see a miracle."

Malz's suddenly hushed voice startled Arthur.

"Haha, just take it as my delirious talk, how could miracles be so easy to come by?"

The old sheriff laughed heartily, changing the subject.

He asked about the serial killings once more.

"Just wait a bit longer!"

Arthur's response was double-edged.

About half an hour later, the patrolling officers returned one by one—

"Police Chief, advisor, the White from the White family is dead!"

"Police Chief, advisor, the Sharp from the Sharp family is dead!"

"Police Chief, advisor, the Bacon from the Bacon family is dead!"

...

One report after another.

Another three young people had died.

Adding to the earlier death of Jody, that makes four people dead, coinciding with Clay's chest and abdomen wounds, along with other wounds of varying depth everywhere.

"It really is a silence killing!

Damn it, these four guys must have known something!

Plus, they all died in very hidden places in their homes, especially Bacon, that fellow's body weighed nearly 200 pounds, yet he was found in a treehouse—clearly had his throat slit under the tree, but was moved to the treehouse. This murderer must be very strong!

Bacon house's butler also mentioned, Bacon has always been secretive lately, going out even without being invited!"

Jody, White, and Sharp were similar!"

Dico spoke, panting.

Even though assisted by horses, Dico still felt exhausted from rushing back and forth all morning.

Malz did not contradict his subordinate's words.

But the old sheriff was still puzzled by one thing—Clay's wounds.

What caused these kinds of wounds?

Most likely they were contract-like in nature.

The four men must have seen or indirectly caused the person who killed Clay to die, hence this kind of agreement was formed—possibly even coerced.

Coerced by the person who slit Clay's throat.

But why then would the coercer kill the four afterwards?

Doesn't make sense, does it?

Wouldn't keeping such leverage be better?

The old sheriff thought about this as he looked toward Arthur.

"Because it can't be done!"

Arthur said and gestured for Dico to drive, then headed straight for the carriage. Malz quickly followed him.

The carriage started moving as Dico snapped the whip.

Arthur directed Dico forward.

"What on earth is going on?

'Miss Anna' what did she tell you?"

The old sheriff asked curiously.

"Have you not noticed some common aspects?"

Arthur countered.

"All had their throats slit, all died in hidden places, even if they had to create them, and they all secretly went out."

The old sheriff blurted out.

"Anything else?"

Arthur continued.

"And…"

The old sheriff couldn't think of anything else.

"Do you remember their names?"

Arthur asked again.

The old sheriff immediately shook his head.

Arthur looked at the old sheriff's expression, but spoke softly to himself—

"So that's how it is!"

And at that moment, a pitch-black crow in the sky above the carriage dived with an aggression fiercer than an eagle's, directly seizing a white pigeon.