Chapter 43: Chapter 43: A Masterstroke to Break the Deadlock

"CRASH—!"

The heavy, wrought-iron frame twisted and deformed as countless crystal-clear glass fragments scattered like rain, reflecting the terrified faces of everyone in the hall.

In an instant, all the cries, curses, and arguments were completely drowned out by the enormous crash.

The Adventurers who had just been clamoring that they would "never back down" scattered like frightened sparrows, not even sparing a glance for their "comrade’s" body.

The onlookers, who had been gloating just moments before, were even more panicked. They shrieked and shoved their way toward the main entrance, terrified the trading house’s roof would be the next thing to come down.

Chaos. Disorder. Panic.

And that was exactly the effect Jon wanted.

When you don’t want to see a shoddy play continue, the best solution is to smash the stage.

He blended into the terrified crowd, moving against the flow of people like a lone fish swimming upstream against the school, silently approaching the epicenter of the incident.

The short-haired man grabbing Pascal’s collar was still frozen in place. He was clearly stunned by the sudden turn of events, his raised fist hovering in mid-air, trembling slightly, unsure whether he should follow through with the punch.

In the moment he hesitated, Jon appeared behind him like a phantom.

"CRACK—"

A clean, decisive knife-hand strike landed on the most vulnerable part of the man’s neck, right on his vagus nerve cluster.

[-22! (Stun)]!

The man’s eyes rolled back into his head, and his tall frame went limp instantly. His grip loosened, and Pascal, freed from his grasp, fell heavily to the floor, gasping for breath.

Without a second glance, Jon shot his hands out and grabbed both men by the back of their collars. Taking advantage of the utter chaos in the hall, he disappeared with them into the dim corridor leading to the inner hall.

The poor waiter hadn’t even recovered from the feeling of suffocation when he felt himself being lifted and whisked away as if flying through the clouds, like a chick grabbed by the scruff of its neck, with no idea where he was going.

It wasn’t until the surrounding light dimmed and his rear end made intimate contact with the cold floor tiles that he realized what had happened.

The light here was dim, with only a few lamps casting a faint glow, a stark contrast to the chaos outside.

Still shaken, he looked up at Jon, who stood before him as cold and composed as a snow-capped mountain. A flicker of delighted surprise shone in his eyes.

"Sir, I knew—"

"Shh—"

Jon raised a finger to his lips, cutting him off.

"Listen carefully. Have someone close the main doors to the trading house immediately. Just say there’s been an unexpected incident. Don’t offer any other explanation."

"Then, go clear out the ’dead man’s’ body. That will be your evidence for your public explanation later."

As he spoke, he nudged the short-haired man, who was sprawled on the ground like a dead dog, with his foot.

"As for this one, I’ll watch him for you. We can deal with him when your supervisor gets back."

"Yes!"

The young waiter nodded emphatically, color returning to his face.

He was sharp enough to immediately grasp the effect of Jon’s solution.

They could use the fallen chandelier as a pretext to announce that the trading house needed renovations. This would give them a perfectly reasonable excuse to keep any troublemakers out until the incident blew over.

Take what those Adventurers did today. If they hadn’t forced their way inside the trading house, the impact wouldn’t have been nearly as severe.

Furthermore, it would shift the focus of the conflict from compensation for the dead Adventurer’s team to compensation for *everyone* who was in the hall at the time. Their malicious intentions would be drowned out by a wider, more diverse range of voices!

And as for decisively taking control of the troublemakers’ leader—that move was nothing short of brilliant!

Not only could they now find out who was pulling the strings, but they had also seized the initiative!

Crashing the chandelier was the most direct, most brutal way to interrupt their performance. It had simultaneously ruined the mastermind’s plot—a complete and utter turnaround!

Once he understood all this, Pascal’s reverence for the young Adventurer before him—who didn’t look much older than himself—surged like a torrential river.

’Such brilliant methods, such brilliant planning! When will I ever become as bold and strategic as this gentleman?’

Though filled with admiration, his actions were swift. He scrambled up from the floor and, without bothering to straighten his disheveled clothes, gave Jon a deeply respectful bow.

"Thank you so much for your help!"

Jon didn’t reply, merely tilting his chin to indicate that he should hurry and get to it.

He then hoisted up the unlucky fellow he had knocked out and walked toward the other end of the corridor, heading back to the lounge.

...

A long-planned commercial frame-up, which had started with high drama and even used an actor who couldn’t speak, ended up being ignominiously smashed by a chandelier.

Never mind the interested parties secretly watching from outside; even those inside the trading house who had been fanning the flames felt utterly frustrated, stuck in a maddening limbo.

’How did things turn out like this? This wasn’t supposed to happen!’

But no matter what they thought, they had missed their best opportunity. Now, they could only lie low and wait for the next one.

Because the two supervisors of the Noble United Commerce Association’s Birch Town branch had both returned.

First came Lady Rosalind Bennett, who managed all the branch’s affairs, galloping in from Birch Town’s north gate with her entourage. Then, Sir Evans Dean, who was in charge of security, returned alone from the south gate, showing everyone along the way the true Power of a [Knight].

His running speed was, quite literally, as fast as a galloping horse!

As a result, despite traveling different distances, the two parties arrived under the sign of the Golden Maple Leaf Trading House at almost the exact same time.

From a distance, they saw the trading house’s main doors were shut tight. The United Commerce Association’s waiter, Pascal, stood guard at the entrance with three security personnel. All of them wore tense expressions, silently enduring the pointing and murmuring of the onlookers.

In front of the trading house, a few bruised and battered Adventurers were still lingering, muttering curses and refusing to leave.

But then, a comical thing happened. When they saw the dark-faced Evans part the crowd and approach with his hand on his sword, they all shivered in unison and fell silent.

Rosalind, on the other hand, was on horseback and found her way blocked by the crowd. She had to dismount and walk to reach the entrance of her own trading house.

She was a tall woman with neat, short silver hair, dressed in a brown hunting outfit. Her face was fair, and her entire bearing gave off a strange sense of "transparency."

Her pale silver eyes swept over the so-called "Adventurers" who stood trembling, afraid to move. In an instant, she seemed to have guessed the entire story.

But she hadn’t returned for such a trivial matter.

So she simply called out to her partner, "Evans, this is all yours."

She then ascended the trading house steps and walked toward Pascal, the waiter she had always thought highly of.

Below the steps, the black-haired Warrior known as "Stone Sword Evans" showed no change in expression after being addressed.

He simply took a step forward, his hand resting on the longsword at his hip. His iron-gray eyes locked onto the "Adventurers," and a dry, rasping sound like stones grinding together emerged from his throat.

"Gentlemen, let’s have a chat..."

The men’s faces immediately soured as they cursed up a storm in their minds.

’Didn’t they say this Knight was out looking for someone and wouldn’t be back for a while?’

’How is he back already!?’

’What kind of intel did those idiots get? They set us up!’

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