Chapter 211

Chapter 211

The Imperial Knight Academy was the cradle for nurturing the empire's core supernatural forces. Most of its graduates entered official institutions such as the imperial army or the Night Watchmen. Even a student on leave was still considered part of the empire's supernatural system—"one of their own." The Night Watchmen tended to be more lenient toward such individuals, unlike their hostile treatment of wild supernatural beings.

Indeed, upon hearing the words "Imperial Knight Academy," the Dream Weaver's icy aura noticeably softened.

Evan keenly sensed that the invisible force binding him had also eased somewhat. His tightly furrowed brow seemed to relax a little, and his once knife-sharp gaze softened slightly. This subtle change allowed Evan to breathe a slight sigh of relief—his gamble had paid off; the Imperial Knight Academy connection had indeed worked.

The Dream Weaver paused for two seconds, as if verifying the truth of this information. After all, impersonating a student of the Imperial Knight Academy was a serious crime, and no one would be foolish enough to try such a lie in a Night Watchman's dream domain. A moment later, having confirmed the authenticity of Evan's words, his tone softened noticeably. The oppressive pressure from the Dream Weaver eased by more than half. He nodded slightly, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and then pressed further: "Reason for leaving?"

His tone remained flat, but it had lost its earlier iciness, now resembling more of a routine information check.

"Trouble with a powerful noble—I couldn't stay in Becklund anymore," Evan replied succinctly, a faint, barely noticeable heaviness in his voice.

This was the truth, the real reason he had left the academy, and there was no need to hide it.

Though that noble was the First Prince at the time, and he'd come to the colony to find potion ingredients for his advancement.

The Dream Weaver was silent for a moment, as if he understood.

Becklund was a hub for Sala's powerful nobles. Even though the Imperial Knight Academy's students were reserve officers, some nobles didn't hold them in high regard. It was perfectly normal for someone who'd offended a noble to have to leave and make a living in the colonies.

He didn't dwell on it. Shifting gears, he cut straight to the core, his tone turning serious again: "Tell me about the evil god's descent on Island Eleven. According to the intelligence we've gathered, you were fully involved in evacuating Gray's family and were one of the leaders of that evacuation, witnessing several key situations firsthand. Tell me everything you know, from beginning to end."

"I was just a hired guard. My mission was to escort Miss Lillian, the daughter of Mr. Marcus, the owner of Gray Manor, from the Twelfth Island to Gray Manor on the Eleventh Island."

Evan first clarified his role, his tone candid, trying to distance himself from being seen as a "leader." "I picked up this mission at the Supernatural Task Release Office on the Twelfth Island. The employer, Mr. Marcus, offered a reward of fifty gold coins, with half paid as a deposit. Another guard, Laura, a Sequence 8 Intermediate Knight, came with me. She was also matched through the task release office."

He paused, beginning to recall the entire process of the mission. Scenes from that time flashed through his mind, and his tone carried a hint of reflective gravity: "The early part of the mission went smoothly. We set sail on Captain Hock's schooner, the 'Seagull.' After arriving at Gray Manor on the Eleventh Island, I conducted a thorough inspection of the manor's surroundings as per standard procedure to understand the basic security situation. I didn't detect any fluctuations in supernatural power."

"Until midnight. Due to professional habit, I hadn't fallen completely asleep. I noticed a fire and faint commotion from the west side of the manor and immediately got up to investigate." Evan's voice dropped slightly, recalling the tense scene. "I saw the manor's barn on fire. Above the rear mountain, countless silver threads of light wove together, gradually forming a massive ring." His body tensed slightly, as if feeling the oppressive pressure of that moment again. "I'd seen records of such phenomena in the Imperial Knight Academy's texts. This vision of light forming a ring was the core ritual for summoning an evil god. Realizing how serious it was, I immediately woke Laura, then went to inform Mr. Marcus and Miss Lillian, organizing their urgent evacuation."

Evan continued, "We ran into an ambush by the natives. To protect Mr. Marcus and Miss Lillian, Laura and I had to dismount and fight back. After that, we drove at full speed without any more large-scale resistance, successfully reaching the dock and escorting the Marcus family aboard the 'Seagull' to return to the Twelfth Island."

The Dream Weaver listened quietly, never once interrupting Evan. Only after Evan finished did he speak again, his tone serious as he pressed for more: "How much do you know about the natives' evil god ritual? Did you notice any specific details of the ceremony? For example, the type of sacrifices, the content of the chanted incantations, the specific characteristics of the ritual's leader, or the layout of the ritual site? This information is crucial for our subsequent investigation." His gaze sharpened again, clearly indicating that these were the core intelligence he was most concerned about.

"I don't know. I didn't approach the ritual site, so I can't provide those details." Evan shook his head decisively, his tone frank. "The situation was urgent at the time. My primary task was to escort the employer to safety. I simply didn't have the time or energy to investigate the specifics of the ritual. As for the sacrifices and incantations, I know nothing—I didn't hear any clear chants or see the specific form of the sacrifices. I only knew they were conducting an evil ritual." He paused, then added, "However, I speculate that the sacrifices might have been the white overseers of the manor. Because after the native rebellion, I didn't see any of the overseers."

"Did you notice any special supernatural power fluctuations among the natives? Such as enhanced physique, elemental manipulation, or similar abilities? Besides launching the rebellion, conducting the evil god ritual, and attacking your carriage, did they have any other unusual actions or plans?"

The Dream Weaver continued his questioning, leaving no potential clue unexplored. His tone, though serious, had lost its earlier edge, clearly indicating that he could sense Evan's honesty and knew that Evan indeed had no more details to offer.

"No." Evan shook his head again, his tone firm. "Those natives were mostly ordinary laborers—strong, sure, but I didn't detect any supernatural power fluctuations. Their attack methods were primitive—they relied solely on brute force to wield their weapons, with no trace of supernatural skills. Apart from launching the rebellion, conducting the ritual, and attacking our carriage, I didn't observe any other unusual actions or plans from them. During my patrol of the manor, I noticed they had little interaction among themselves, mostly working in silence. Only in the evening, after returning to their thatched huts, did they gather in small numbers, but the distance was too great for me to hear what they were saying, and I saw no signs of an impending rebellion."

Throughout the entire interrogation, Evan maintained a candid attitude, without any hesitation or concealment.

He was well aware that in the Dream Weaver's domain, any lie would be exposed. Rather than trying to hide something and face punishment upon discovery, it was better to be completely honest and clear himself entirely.

He was just a hired freelance supernatural, whose core goal was to complete tasks, collect the bounty, and support himself and his bedridden mother. The conflicts between the Night Watchmen, the evil god, and the natives, as well as the empire's colonial racial tensions, had nothing to do with him. He had no need or desire to get involved.

For him, the best outcome was for the Night Watchmen to confirm that he possessed no key intelligence, then completely drop their focus on him, allowing him to continue accepting tasks and earning money to support his family.

The Dream Weaver was silent for a long time. The gray mist flowed slowly around him, as if digesting the information Evan had provided.

His gaze remained fixed on Evan's face, his spiritual power fully sensing Evan's soul fluctuations—within the dream domain, the soul's fluctuations could not lie.

After a meticulous perception, he confirmed that Evan's soul fluctuations remained consistently stable, with no disorder caused by lying. Clearly, Evan was telling the truth.

This young man was indeed merely an observer and participant in this evil god incident. His core actions were all aimed at completing his escort mission. Apart from necessary counterattacks, he had not actively intervened in other aspects of the event, and indeed possessed no further valuable intelligence. For the Night Watchmen, such a person required no further attention or investigation.

"I understand." The Dream Weaver's voice sounded again, still flat and devoid of emotion. "What you've said is essentially consistent with the intelligence we've gathered. There is no concealment or deception. You may leave." With these words, he slightly raised his hand, making a dismissive gesture.

The moment the words fell, the invisible force binding Evan vanished without a trace.

At the same time, the surrounding gray mist began to twist and collapse violently. The previously stable ground became undulating, rolling like turbulent waves.

Before Evan could steady himself, he was pulled by a tremendous, irresistible force. The scene before him spun rapidly—the Dream Weaver's figure, the gray mist, the cold atmosphere—everything dissipated quickly, eventually plunging into an endless, boundless darkness.

The feeling of being forcibly pushed out of the consciousness space was strange, as if his soul had been violently squeezed and then suddenly released, leaving his mind in a daze.

"Whoosh—" Evan sat up abruptly from the bed, gasping for breath, his chest heaving violently, his forehead covered in fine, cold sweat that soaked the strands of hair on his brow.

His heart pounded as if trying to leap out of his chest, and his ears still echoed with the Dream Weaver's cold voice and the sound of flowing mist from the dream.

The sunlight outside the window remained bright, casting warm patches of light on the floor through the window lattice. The furnishings in the inn were unchanged—the oil lamp on the table, the coat on the chair, the money pouch on the bedside table—all exactly as they had been before he slept, as if that bizarre dream interrogation had been nothing but a surreal illusion.

But the lingering sluggishness of his spiritual power, the discomfort of being forcibly invaded deep within his soul, and the cold sweat on his forehead all told him clearly—that was no illusion; it had truly happened. The Night Watchman's Dream Weaver had indeed invaded his dreams and conducted a thorough interrogation.