My Players Are So Fierce – Handsome dog Frank

Chapter 2715 - 906: Touching Anything with Your Hands First Is Extremely Dangerous—[1/10]

(Bonus Chapter sponsored by last month’s monthly tickets~ and by the way, begging for this month’s tickets!)

In the dim room, the fragrance of tea drifted out bit by bit with the flicker of the small brazier’s flame. A pot of fine tea was then very elegantly divided into two cups carved with Shadow Spider patterns. Slender, beautiful fingers lifted a cup; after a light sniff, a satisfied nasal sound followed.

But instead of drinking it, he casually poured the cup’s amber liquid onto the floor beside him, letting the tea scent spread.

This whole set of tea-brewing techniques, which could be called Master Level, ended like this—it was no less ridiculous than a brat using his earth-shattering genius to spend ages building the coolest sandcastle ever, only to kick it down in one go.

If a brat really did that, it would mean he probably wasn’t quite right in the head; by the same logic, this guy brewing tea in the dark was definitely not a normal person either.

But he had no sense of abnormality at all. He continued contentedly picking tea leaves, preparing for the next round of "tea art demonstration," until the tightly closed door was knocked, cutting off this very tasteful yet somehow strangely off process.

The gaunt man in the darkness raised his head, his narrowed eyes full of displeasure at being disturbed. He didn’t bother to hide this mood and asked coldly:

"What is it?"

"There’s a problem with the sacrificial ritual, my Lord ’Slave Master’."

A pleasant female voice sounded from outside the room, reporting in the Shadow Elves’ lilting tongue:

"The city that should have been sent into the Subspace a quarter of an hour ago was interfered with. Its route underwent an inexplicable deviation under the influence of an unknown power. After it entered the planar rift between the Star Realm and Subspace, it started drifting off toward an unknown direction and was not sent into the Subspace as planned.

The Psychics presiding over the sacrificial ritual are still investigating the issue, but with all due respect, this should be a long-prepared operation. At the moment we still can’t determine who is intervening in this supposedly very secret ritual."

"Heh..."

The man inside the house let out a short nasal sound and said with disdain:

"There are no more than ten forces in this world capable of interfering with such a ritual, and if you think about those with both the ability and the motivation to take the initiative to do it, even using your heel you’d know there’s only that one.

Who would risk everything, including the danger of being counter-contaminated by the Subspace, to save a bunch of Transia People who’ve been drifting in the Star Realm for nine months? And what kind of reward could those poor wretches, powerless to save themselves in the Star Realm, offer their savior in return?

No need to guess.

It has to be that very miraculous, in all sorts of ways, Murphy making his move.

Though I’m not quite sure how he did it, it’s obvious that even though we tried our best to raise Murphy’s threat level, we still underestimated that handsome gentleman."

The servant outside the house said nothing, simply maintained her silence and waited for her master’s orders. A few seconds later, the sound of picking tea leaves rang out again in the room, and that gentleman nicknamed "Slave Master" said:

"Don’t worry about it. Just pretend nothing happened. We were only doing this to help the frantic ’Origin’ finish the job anyway. Whether it succeeds or fails has nothing to do with us. We’ve already taken the deposit—we don’t lose out either way."

"But if Lord ’Origin’ decides to hold us accountable..."

"Heh, let her survive this hunt first. From what I’ve observed, Murphy and his companions are not the kind to just take a beating and not hit back. The pathological attachment to ’Mother’ buried in Origin’s personality is a big problem. The less she can restrain herself, the closer she is to ruin. A genius who does evil will always be broken by the very thing she loves, just like all those classic stories foretell—destroyed by her own hand.

Given how she’s already clearly panicking now, there’s a high chance that in the near future we’ll be attending a completely meaningless memorial service for the ’passing’ of a certain ’senior’."

Lord "Slave Master" spoke in a tone with thirty percent contempt, thirty percent disdain, thirty percent pity and the last ten percent coldness:

"Don’t waste too much effort on a loser. From here on, focus on the mission His Excellency the ’Monk Leader’ assigned us. How’s the progress on exploring the Dark Territory?"

"Not optimistic at all, my Lord."

The Female Elf outside the door answered with even deeper humility:

"Although we’ve confirmed the location of the Eden District warehouse in the Dark Territory, our vanguard explorers have been unable to break through the defensive line formed by that group of automaton soldiers. The losses... have been pretty severe."

"Mm, that’s not your fault. The mechanical power of the last Era is too terrifying. But since it’s the Organization’s demand, we can’t stall any longer. Send everyone who presided over this failed ritual over to the exploration team.

I’ll give them three months. They must enter the ruins of the Eden District.

Oh, and of course, you don’t have to go.

You are my most favored Disciple. I still expect you to shine and burn for our cause."

A clearly audible sigh of relief came from outside the door. As the sound of footsteps faded away, the man in the shadows brewed another pot of tea.

This time he was very satisfied with his result. He lifted the fragrant liquid and walked into the deeper shadows, speaking softly to a seductive Female Elf tied in a strange posture to a luxurious bed:

"Time for tea, my Lady Matriarch. This is your favorite drink, brewed for you with the very method you taught me... Look at you, why are you crying again? Thinking of the old days in Mejewa City?"