Chapter 607, Standing in the Sun
With an exclamation.
The other patrons reacted as well.
"The coachman?"
"Why him? What motive would he have for murder?"
"Did you follow what the newspaper said?"
The audience turned into a mess.
Clearly, the true culprit was not guessed by most people.
Or rather, it was unexpected.
Saban looked at everyone's reaction, his expression unchanged.
He continued telling the story.
"We were all stunned by the dramatic turn of events, caught off guard."
The patrons fell silent.
The story wasn't over yet.
Moreover, not just them—none of the story's characters expected the culprit to be the coachman.
"At that moment, the coachman broke free from Wu Heng's grasp, rushed to the window, smashed it with a punch, and tried to escape."
"Luckily, we reacted quickly and pounced on him."
"The coachman was fierce, struggling hard. When he finally understood the situation, he gave up escape and leaned against the wall, panting."
"'I didn't expect to be trapped here. Maybe you'd like to hear why I killed those two scoundrels.' Without waiting for us to speak, the coachman began telling his story."
The patrons' expressions turned serious.
The patrons refocused.
They intended to hear what reason he had for such an ending.
...…
Nautilus Tavern.
"Twenty years ago, Hobo was a handsome young man, smart and capable, searching for silver mines in a valley with a few companions."
"On a warm June day, he met the beautiful Lucy, was enchanted by her, and fervently pursued her."
"Lucy admired his talents and accepted his pursuit."
"Lucy and her foster father John had once been saved by a group of cultists and had since lived under the cult's control."
"The cult doctrine mandated that daughters of believers must marry within the faith."
"Lucy, being the most beautiful girl in town, had already caught the eyes of many, especially two powerful sons of cult leaders—Enoch Traber and Joseph Stanjesson."
The patrons frowned.
The killer and victims had appeared.
It seemed there would be no more plot twists.
The rest of the story would be simpler.
Lucy's father was murdered by cultists. She was dragged back and forced to marry Traber. Within a month, she withered and died from depression.
This time, Hobo took a job as a coachman in this city, found an opportunity, and killed them himself.
"Hobo finished telling his story. His life was also nearing its end."
"Years of hardship had left him with an incurable illness. The blood found at Traber's death scene was from Hobo's excitement, and the blood-written word was improvised using his own blood."
"After completing his revenge plan, Hobo died with a smile the next day."
The story ended, and the bard bowed and stepped off the stage.
Yet the patrons below had not snapped out of the story.
So that was the ending.
The killer everyone had been searching for was the coachman.
But the resolution was not satisfying—turns out the initial victims were the real culprits, and the one they were chasing only wanted revenge for his beloved.
"This story really lingers."
"Damn, I feel like I became an accomplice."
"The Island Lord shouldn't have taken this case."
"Even if he wasn't caught, he wouldn't have lived long. He was ill."
The patrons began discussing.
At the bar.
Philipa stood up, walked to a wooden board, and knocked on it hard, "Look carefully! The culprit was the coachman! Those who guessed correctly, come pay up!"
The tavern remained chaotic.
"Damn, if anyone guessed the coachman, I'll admit they're good."
...…
Soon, the news that the coachman was the killer spread like waves across the island.
Everyone was talking about it—it became the island's hottest topic.
"How could it be the coachman!"
"He barely appeared, how could it be him?"
"I have the previous newspapers. If you compare, there were indeed hints."
"Didn't you hear the coachman's backstory? His lover was killed by the victims."
"So who were the real victims?"
"Hard to say."
...…
Central District.
Outside the City Hall, a long queue had formed.
Word spread that City Hall was selling compiled detective books.
Anyone who wanted to purchase and collect them could head there.
Soon, a crowd gathered.
If not for the association squad and skeletons guarding the scene, it might've descended into chaos.
Then, a figure squeezed out of the crowd.
They ran toward a cloaked figure in the distance, holding up a newspaper: "Princess, I got one! Even one of the first few copies signed by the Island Lord!"
The cloaked figure tucked golden hair beneath the hood and scolded, "What are you doing? I told you not to call me that in public."
"Sorry, miss. I forgot. There were too many people. Someone even grabbed my butt," the little maid said, aggrieved.
The princess put the book away and softly said, "From now on, wear a cloak when we go out. We must not draw attention."
The two walked together.
The maid whispered, "M... miss, do you think the person you're looking for is on this island?"
"I don't know," the princess sighed. "I saw him around Gold-Silver Island. I suspect he's here."
"Could it be the Island Lord? He's mysterious and powerful."
"Not sure."
"The Island Lord is amazing. The newspaper says he even joined the Hongwen Society."
"Yes."
The two chatted as they left the bustling center.
...…
Association, Steward's Study.
The sisters sat together, reading the newspaper.
"Damn it, it was the coachman! My allowance, my precious allowance..." Shiyali shouted, distraught.
Sheila Grey gave her a look, "Stop yelling. People will think something happened."
Shiyali grabbed her arm and shook it hard, "I told you to ask who the killer was! You wouldn't! My money!"
Sheila Grey widened her eyes, "You're blaming me?"
"Your turn to pay for our living expenses this month," Shiyali hugged her tightly.
"I can't with you," Sheila Grey sighed, then added, "Fine, I'll pay. But you're not allowed to bet on this stuff anymore."
Losing money once might be a good thing.
Better than picking up bad habits after coming to the island.
"Don't worry, I didn't really want to get involved anyway." Shiyali replied, then leaned on Sheila Grey's shoulder. "That culprit was really unexpected."
"Yeah, quite a tragic person."
Shiyali continued asking, "What do you think makes Wu Heng's stories so special? There are so many heroic propaganda stories in the Association, and nobody reads them, but his actually sells outside."
Sheila Grey glanced at the newspaper and thought for a moment, then said, "Maybe it's the perspective."
"What perspective?"
Sheila Grey explained her thoughts, "Heroic stories are either great achievements or noble family upbringings. They stand on high platforms, bathed in sunlight.
Wu Heng's story is the opposite. When he was the great detective, he didn't even have a profession scroll. The maid Benny came from a village. They've never seen sunlight, yet still look like heroes."
Shiyali raised an eyebrow, "I get what you mean now. That makes sense. Wu Heng's stories are all about ordinary people, not heroic feats."
Sheila Grey said, "From the islanders' point of view, which story do you think they prefer?"
Shiyali nodded, indicating she understood the point.
She then changed the subject and asked, "What level are you now?"
Sheila Grey frowned, "Thirteen. Why?"
"What are you waiting for? The newspaper is so popular now, and you're with Wu Heng. Once you hit level 15, it's perfect timing for some publicity." Shiyali immediately said.
Sheila Grey's cheeks flushed red. She stood up with a stern face, "I'm leaving. You're on your own for this month's living expenses."
"Hey, don't be like that!"
...…
Shanaila's estate.
On both sides of the long dining table sat well-dressed trade caravan representatives.
The large trade caravans sat closest to the table, able to eat the refreshments.
Behind them were medium and small trade caravan representatives—about twenty people in total.
"Madam Shanaila, just tell us directly what this is about," one representative said after sipping tea.
The Wood Elves hadn't made public the matter of Shanaila's real authority being undermined.
Other than high-level members of the race, no one knew the truth. They only knew the Starflowers had a few internal reshuffles.
Shanaila and the Elder Council had some disagreements, but she was still the president.
From the outside, it looked like Shanaila was delegating more responsibilities and not handling everything herself.
She was still the president, and in front of these representatives on Gold-Silver Island—
—still held enough influence.
Seeing that everyone had arrived, Shanaila nodded and said, "We're all old friends here, so I'll get to the point. Yesterday, Island Lord Wu Heng talked to me about holding a product exhibition here on the island. High-quality goods will be on display. The Starflowers will participate. If any of you are interested, you can go register at City Hall."
Exhibition?
That name was a first for them.
But the literal meaning was clear—it was about displaying goods.
"Madam Shanaila, what's the point of it?" someone asked.
Shanaila smiled and explained, "I've summarized a few key points—listen. First, purchasing from Gold-Silver Island has skyrocketed since last year. The Island Lord will choose some trade caravans for collaboration.
Second, it's a form of external promotion to expand your trade caravan's influence, and there's also newspaper publicity. All of it is beneficial to us."
The people exchanged glances and began discussing quietly.
It sounded helpful to their businesses, but didn't seem like anything major.
Shanaila continued, "Have you all seen the latest newspaper?"
Everyone shook their heads—they had rushed over after receiving the invitation in the morning.
No one had noticed whether a new issue had been released.
"Does this new issue have something to do with the exhibition?" someone asked.
Shanaila calmly said, "Wu Heng has joined the Hongwen Society. Though not confirmed, there's word that a certain high-ranking figure from headquarters wants to take him as a disciple. All of Gold-Silver Island is now under special attention from Association HQ. Getting on his good side is a chance to close that distance."
The trade caravan representatives were stunned, their expressions changing instantly.
The Hongwen Society. A disciple of a big shot.
It must be related to the duel with Luan.
Last time, Shanaila had brought several trade caravans to recommend Wu Heng as the island lord.
In the end, he really did become the island lord, and the caravans that signed off got three years of tax exemption and huge profits.
Now Shanaila had new intel.
She wouldn't make this up.
"What goes on at HQ doesn't concern our caravans, but I'm responding to the Island Lord's call. I'll have someone register at City Hall."
"Exactly, the Starflowers is joining. This exhibition must be worthwhile. We'll join too."
"Same here. We'll go register."
...…
Island Lord's estate.
Wu Heng stretched and put away the electromagnetic cannon schematics.
The entire morning.
He'd gone through a portion of it and had a basic understanding of the contents.
Since they were blueprints, most of the writing detailed part names, dimensions, and connection methods—not overly technical or complex.
Wu Heng stood, walked to the side, waved his hand, and cast 'Mansion Spell.'
Towering spatial rifts and stone gates opened one after another.
Revealing the cannon tower and the weapon storage cave behind them.
Wu Heng glanced inside and ordered, "Move out the bullets and shells, bring everything out."
Clatter~!
The skeletons inside the storage cave began moving.
Carrying out crates of ammunition.
The cannons and machine guns were created using the Mansion Spell, but the shells were real—otherwise, they couldn't be fired.
Last night, after things ended with Shanaila—
Wu Heng had thought about the electromagnetic cannon issue.
With current tech, building one was impossible, but in the 'Mansion Spell'—it might be doable.
As long as he followed the blueprint and created each component inside the Mansion Spell—
It'd be more convenient than trying to develop it with real-world tech.
Soon, the skeletons moved out all the ammunition.
Wu Heng focused, and the entire 'mansion' scene collapsed.
Forming a wide, flat open space.
Wu Heng picked up the blueprint and began creating based on the design.
As his mental energy flowed in—
One component after another began forming within the Mansion.
The parts then assembled themselves in midair into more advanced components.
Once assembled, the next batch of parts was created and assembled again.
"Feels like assembling a Lego set from blueprints."
Wu Heng muttered.
...…
Not long after—
Wu Heng had completed the blueprint stack as thick as a thumb.
"Looks doable!"
Wu Heng felt a wave of joy.
But he didn't continue, instead shutting down the Mansion Spell and resting to recover mental energy.
He hadn't rested long—
When three ghostly figures flew back in through the air.