Lord: I have built a witch's sanctuary.

Chapter 74 The Countess's Plan

Chapter 74 The Countess's Plan

Inside the study in Frostwolf City.

The long table, which should have been used to handle territorial affairs, was now piled with all sorts of portraits of women.

The Countess sat in the main seat, holding a cup of now-cold red tea, her gaze coldly scrutinizing the parchment before her.

Percival had treated the wounds on his face, and although they still looked a bit red and swollen, he was huddled in a chair with a shifty look in his eyes, clearly still recovering from the shock.

"Listen, you fool." The Countess slammed her teacup down on the table with a loud clatter. "That envoy was right. We can't expect Lorraine to die out there. That little bastard has been as tough as a rat in the gutter since he was a child. Since natural disasters can't kill him, then we'll have to let human calamities kill him."

"Should we send assassins directly?" Percival asked cautiously. "The family also keeps a few assassins—"

"Use your pig brain!" The Countess wanted nothing more than to smash her teacup over his head. "It's snowing outside! Third-tier monsters are running rampant; sending people out is suicide!"

"What we need to do is lure him back, lure him into our slaughterhouse, and kill him!"

She stood up, rummaged through the pile of portraits for a while, and pulled out two of the most vibrant ones.

"That little bastard Lorraine, what has he ever seen in his life?" The Countess's lips curled into a contemptuous sneer. "He was raised in the stables from a young age, surrounded by lowly servants. Even though he survived the snow season, he's still a country bumpkin who's never seen a woman before."

She threw the portrait in front of Percival. The woman in the painting was alluring, with captivating eyes; she was clearly a carefully trained beauty.

"This is the first step, a gentle approach to cutting away the flesh."

The Countess's tone was chilling. "Once he returns, immediately arrange for people to take these 20,000 gold coins and these two beauties bought from the capital and find a way to send them to him."

"Officially, it was said to be support and compensation from his family."

"Give him money and women?"

Percival's eyes widened, his face filled with reluctance. "That's twenty thousand gold coins! Enough for me to gamble in the casino for years! Why should that good-for-nothing get it for free?"

"You can't catch a wolf without risking your cub!" the Countess snapped. "We need to make him believe that although the family has exiled him, they haven't completely abandoned him."

"It even gave him the illusion that as long as he obeyed, his family would give him wealth and honor."

"Once a man finds comfort, he loses his will to fight. If he dares to accept this money and these women, we'll have plenty of opportunities to kill him."

She paused, a ruthless glint in her eyes: "Besides, that little beast definitely doesn't know that you took his place."

"In his eyes, he probably only feels that I, his stepmother, treat him badly. As long as we make the right gestures and offer him plenty of sweet talk, that love-starved bastard will definitely lower his guard."

Percival was pained, but he knew this was a matter of life and death, so he reluctantly nodded: "Alright, I'll make the arrangements right away. When the time comes, send a few of my most shrewd and trustworthy men over."

"This is only the first step." The Countess sat back down in her chair, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. "If he doesn't fall for it, or if he really has some kind of adventure that makes him harder to deal with, then we'll have to prepare a second option—a hard one."

She took out a badge engraved with intricate alchemical symbols from the deepest part of the drawer. The badge was dark purple and had a snake with only half a body coiled on it.

"What is this?" Percival asked curiously as he leaned closer.

"An internal token of the Alchemists' Guild." The Countess stroked the cold badge as if she were touching a deadly blade. "President Pym, Alchemist Master, these are his identities. Most importantly, he is a skinny old man who is obsessed with money."

"You mean—you're thinking of paying someone from the Alchemists' Guild to help you?" Percival's eyes lit up.

"I will ask Master Pym to set up magic-binding arrays along the main road from Frostwolf City to the castle, as well as in the main hall of the family castle."

The Countess's smile grew increasingly sinister. "This is a killing formation specifically designed to target witches. As long as any of Lorraine's witches dare to step into this area, even if they are second or third tier, their magical power will be instantly drained, turning them into mortals at the mercy of others."

She clenched her fist tightly, and the sharp edge of the badge pierced her palm, drawing a trickle of blood, but she seemed not to feel the pain.

"Furthermore, I recently received news that Pym has been scouring the country for alchemical materials to concoct healing potions, which he then distributes to civilians as porridge."

"Although I don't know what went wrong with this money-grubbing Pym that he gave away so much food to the poor, the Alchemists' Guild must be in dire need of money now."

"If we pay enough gold coins, Pym will definitely agree to our terms."

Percival listened, his blood boiling, as if he could already see Lorraine kneeling at his feet, begging for mercy. He rubbed his hands excitedly, "Excellent! I'll personally take the knife and peel his skin off piece by piece, just like the envoy did to me! I'll make him taste what it means to wish he were dead!"

"The prerequisite is that you have to act well!"

The Countess gave him a cold glance. "It's fortunate that your Lorraine persona hasn't been shown to outsiders too often before, otherwise, as soon as Lorraine returned, he would immediately discover that someone was impersonating him, and our entire plan would be ruined!"

"But—when I was playing with those maids a few days ago, I used Lorraine's face—someone still saw me, what should I do?"

"Are you stupid? Are a few mere maids more important than our lives?"

"Get rid of it," the Countess said, her gaze icy, "You understand what I mean."

"Understood! Understood!"

Percival nodded repeatedly, as if he had grasped at a lifeline. For once, his intelligence prevailed. "No woman is more important than life."

"That's right." The Countess nodded in satisfaction, her gaze returning to the burning fireplace.

The flickering flames reflected her face, which was etched with scheming and malice.

In their view, Lorraine might be surviving on the icy plains during the snowy season by some kind of luck, and might even have found some ancient relics.

But experience counts. How could an illegitimate child who only knows brute force possibly outmaneuver those who have been immersed in aristocratic circles for decades?

Meanwhile, the mobile city of Babel.

Lorraine wore a smug smile as he looked at the orb of loot dropped by the fourth-tier monster, Blade of Winter.

He laughed even more heartily.