They all call me Great Master

Close the door, Mr. Smith maintained his previous seriousness—

"It's even more chaotic outside than imagined.

There's a riot at St. Joan of Arc Girls' College, heavy losses for police and secret detectives at Kilg Harbor; the entire Inner Bay is starting to mobilize now.

But this will take time.

At least within two days, Kilg Harbor will be very unsafe."

In his heart, Mr. Smith apologized while explaining to his wife.

Of course, it's not all lies.

Mr. Smith really saw some malicious people lurking around the hotel earlier.

However, upon seeing the hotel servant's firearm, they temporarily chose to retreat.

But only temporarily.

Those hyena-like people won't give up.

Those bastards are waiting for time.

Waiting...

For nightfall.

This was Mr. Smith's deduction.

And Mrs. Smith quickly understood.

"Someone wants to take advantage of the chaos?"

"It's not just anyone wanting.

It's anyone with the capability, they're all thinking about it.

So, I need to leave temporarily before dark."

Mr. Smith looked apologetically at his wife.

Mrs. Smith hugged her husband tightly.

She certainly knew why her husband was leaving before dark—so that she would be safe, preventing those who wanted to take advantage after dark from appearing again.

Mrs. Smith felt a surge of emotion.

She wanted to reveal her true identity.

But, she quickly suppressed the impulse.

'Death'!

'Damn bastards!'

Mrs. Smith cursed.

By now, Mrs. Smith was sure, that bastard 'Death' had once again calculated everything, otherwise, how could they confirm the appearance of the 'Blood Descendants'?

Everything was their setup.

And she?

Was just one link.

But sadly, she didn't know which position she occupied in this chain.

Was it important? Or secondary?

Or perhaps a sacrificial pawn to draw out some key figure?

Mrs. Smith's heart was in chaos.

But now, she could only play it by ear.

In her heart, she apologized to her husband—actually, the instant she saw the 'Blood Descendants' emerge from the spring altar, Mrs. Smith was pondering how to meet this 'Blood Descendants', she was eager to inform them of 'that matter'.

And then?

What if a miracle occurred?

Thus, during the time before dark, the Smiths did not leave the room.

Arthur and Marinda were the same.

The two lay side by side on the bed, eyes closed, not speaking.

They were conserving energy.

Both knew there would be a fierce battle at night.

Listening to each other's breathing.

Marinda's eyelids grew heavy.

Then, soft snores began to rise.

Arthur lifted himself slightly to tuck Marinda in, then lay back down obediently.

Then, he turned on his side.

When Arthur turned, Marinda's light snoring remained unchanged, but her eyes opened just a crack.

Her barely visible eyes were full of smiles.

Next, this lady's breathing became long and she truly fell asleep.

And Arthur?

After Marinda fell truly asleep, he opened his right eye that was pressed against the pillow—he certainly couldn't sleep, there were many things that needed planning.

Tonight's action was extremely important to Arthur.

No amount of planning was too much.

Time passed by minute by minute.

As the sun slanted west, Mr. Smith began to tidy his attire—a large black trench coat, once the collar was upturned, could fully obscure his face, pockets held a pair of custom finger tigers, a line of darts inserted into the belt buckle, and a dagger hidden in the boot.

Of course, these were secondary.

The most important thing was—

Mr. Smith hugged and kissed Mrs. Smith directly.

Then, under Mrs. Smith's gaze, he climbed out the window.

Leaning half on the window, Mrs. Smith watched as her husband landed smoothly, turned into the alley, and went straight into the washroom.

This lady turned on the faucet—

Snapp!

Water flowed like a stream.

Droplets of water flew towards the room's doors, corridors, windows, and other exits.

These were all alerts.

Perhaps due to her losing demigod power, these droplets could not cause substantial harm, but served well as alarms.

After confirming these, Mrs. Smith began to focus on the water flow.

Her Spirituality accompanied the flow, surged into Inner Bay's groundwater, headed towards the already locked spring altar.

The location was a dock area, after this morning's appearance, this 'Blood Descendants' had quietly returned here to wait.

Abnormalities in one of the fountains clearly alerted this 'Blood Descendants'—

"Who?"

Cold words full of warning sounded.

Ripples appeared on the pool under the fountain.

"I mean no harm, Lord Auburn."

Mrs. Smith immediately stated her intent.

Though unaware of her particular link, she was clear about her identity—the words she spoke were full of humility.

"God-born?

Defective God?"

The 'Blood Descendants' looked at Mrs. Smith in the water pit, her nose slightly twitching, and directly asked.

God-born, descendants of the Divine Spirits.

Born transcendents, born with talent unattainable to ordinary people.

The most special group, born as entrants, and would naturally progress towards ascend steppers as they aged.

Defective God, was the collective name for former Divine Spirits now mortal.

A term left from the Imperial Age.

Rumored, the Imperial Age had a glorious history of capturing Divine Spirits.

Mrs. Smith was unsurprised by the 'Blood Descendants' knowing this.

However, she was genuinely disgusted by the 'Blood Descendants' nose twitch—because it reminded her of another bastard.

'Two puppeteer bastards!

Let them dog-eat-dog!'

With this thought, Mrs. Smith smiled and spoke.

"Just a fallen Nameless God.

Briefly held spring water during the Silver Age, quickly lost the name thereafter.

But also allowed me to find my true self."

Nothing was hidden.

This confirmed Arthur's suspicions.

'After the 'Seven Years' War', a highly active Spring Water Goddess who was backstabbed by believers?'

Arthur knew little of this goddess.

Only aware of her once glorious times.

At her peak, the entire Inner Bay, including Bert, Ainhars, West Berlin Territory, belonged to her domain.

But within merely three to four years, she vanished.

'What god was her husband?'

Arthur pondered, manipulating the 'Blood Descendants' to say—

"State your purpose."

The voice remained cold.

But Mrs. Smith was indifferent.

She had encountered such roles many times.

Thus, Mrs. Smith directly responded—

"The 'Seven Years' War' was a conspiracy!"