The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

Page 181

Derica took two slices of bread from the kitchen, heated them slightly in a frying pan along with an egg, and made a simple breakfast, intending to deliver it to Bartley, who was still asleep in the guest room.

The moment she opened the door, a meat saw, still reeking of blood, was placed against her neck.

The bloody smell on the knife came from the assassins in the tavern yesterday. Most of the unlucky ones who stood in Bartley's way were chopped to pieces in one fell swoop, and many of the luckier ones lost their limbs.

Therefore, the knife was not only stained with blood, but also with bone fragments and secretions from other organs.

"Who are you? Answer my question," Bartley's voice rang out crisply.

The hunter's manner of speaking was always cold and concise; this was the least hostile tone he could muster. No one knew his own condition better than him—his spirit was breaking down, and his body was nearing the point of severe injury.

The reason for further catalyzing the [Blood Burning] technique is simply to kill as many people as possible before dying.

But since I've survived... I have to consider the possibilities. The ideal scenario is being rescued by my own people, but in most cases, that's just a distant dream. The worst-case scenario is being captured by the enemy.

He would rather die than be captured and subjected to torture and humiliation.

"what!"

The pungent smell of blood sent a chill down Detrick's spine, and she almost dropped the plate she was holding.

“Um, Mr. Hunter, I’m an informant hired by Ms. Vivian… Remember? I threw that smoke bomb yesterday, and I’m the one who brought you here.”

She set the plate aside and then somewhat flusteredly took out a jet-black raven feather with a brocade-like sheen to prove her identity.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ba. I was a little tense, Liu might have scared you."

Bartley, seeing that the spiritual energy on the raven feather truly came from Vivian's [Caller] Munin, gradually lowered his guard. He then apologized for his earlier rudeness.

As he became more lucid, his thoughts gradually became clearer.

Indeed, if he had been captured by Louisa, those guys would never have treated him so meticulously. Nor would they have left his weapons within reach. In that case, he would probably have woken up in a torture chamber, chained up.

"It's alright, after all, yesterday was indeed very dangerous... You do need some time to recover."

When Detricka saw the burly man put down the meat saw, she breathed a slight sigh of relief.

Looking at the somewhat reserved girl in front of him, Bartley grinned and chuckled softly, patting her shoulder to comfort her.

"Thank you for saving me, little one."

“I am Bartley of the Funeral Court. If you ever run into trouble and need a little force... come to me. Whether it's some clueless thug or some disgusting evil creature, I can take care of it for you.”

At the same time, he couldn't help but sigh about something else.

It seems that the Secret Service did indeed have an agent named Vivian accompanying Sister Heda on this mission, but I hadn't really paid much attention to her.

I never expected that she had quietly bribed her informants and established an intelligence network... Tsk, you really can't judge a book by its cover.

Could it be that this low-profile approach is actually a new method of concealment for the Secret Service? It shouldn't be underestimated...

“Mr. Bartley, you are my employer’s colleague, and I am only helping within my own capabilities.”

Detrika said rather modestly.

That being said, she had already begun to consider how to take advantage of Bartley's connections.

He was a genuine veteran hunter, able to move freely when surrounded by dozens of people in the tavern, and she still vividly remembers the gruesome scene of limbs flying everywhere.

"By the way, what's your name?"

Out of courtesy, Wu Bartley inquired about the name of the man who had rescued him.

Detrika did not hide anything and readily told people her name and occupation.

“My name is Detricka, and I am a disciple of the Six-Eyed Raven.”

"The Six-Eyed Raven..."

Bartley stroked the stubble on his chin, his expression slightly wistful.

"Speaking of which, I was robbed by some guys from your cult on my way here. That's the downside of Foy; there are a lot of thieves. Even locals sometimes lose small things."

On the Leviathan, his knife was stolen by thieves from the Six-Eyed Ravens, but after reaching shore, he was rescued by the same cult members. Sometimes fate is just that unpredictable...

"Ha, ha, what a coincidence... I apologize to you for my comrade's behavior..."

Derica pursed her lips imperceptibly, concealing a hint of guilt.

"Foy is considered one of the safer areas in Golmouth. Apart from the capital, Mordway, other cities are much more chaotic. You definitely need to be more vigilant most of the time..."

"Hey, I grew up in this godforsaken place, of course I know that. I just didn't expect that little thief to make his move on the ship that came from Norrington."

Bartley waved his hand, not pursuing the matter any further.

He had considered the possibility that Derica might be the one who stole his knife, but he felt it was unlikely to be such a coincidence. Besides, she was Vivian's informant, and the thief that day was let go by Dr. Fran; the two seemed completely unrelated.

After all, Gormouth was the main gathering place for the Six-Eyed Raven followers, and it was never short of thieves.

"Then you should rest here. I have an operation to prepare for tonight, so I won't disturb you any longer..."

Derica left the piece of bread with the fried egg and butter inside, then walked out of the room somewhat sullenly.

"Ah."

As the thief girl walked away, Bartley inexplicably felt that he might have been too fierce. Why was she so afraid of him?

However, this little guy probably witnessed the entire battle last night. Seeing the blood splattering everywhere, it's not surprising that he would be scared.

After what happened last night, he was indeed quite hungry. He quickly finished off the food on his plate, which was still slightly hot.

After leaving the guest room and returning to her bedroom, Detricka began preparing the items she might need that evening: the Six-Eyed Raven's cult token, a small dagger, and finally, a smoke bomb.

As for work tools like razor blades, fishhooks, and tweezers, she didn't bring them. She was going to participate in an exchange meeting, not to do anything else. Besides, the payment Ms. Vivian gave her would be enough to support her for a long time.

Finally, she carefully wrapped Bartley's butcher knife in a cloth and put it in a hidden compartment under her bed...

-

Dream Flower Hotel.

When the midday sun shone through the window onto the bed, Fran scratched his slightly curly, light-white hair and sleepily opened his eyes.

"Phew... The sun is shining brightly today."

Her voice carried a soft, languid quality, as if she hadn't fully woken up yet.

However, Luara's dream last night was indeed a great help to Fran. It was a pleasant and relaxing "sweet dream" that greatly restored the spiritual energy she had lost during the ritual of setting up the gray fog.

If it weren't for Luara's help, Fran would probably have slept all day, and might even have missed tonight's Six-Eyed Raven's Full Moon Gathering. As a bed sheet and a giant body pillow, this mythical creature is truly exceptional...

"Dr. Fran, it's already noon. We'll be checking out of the hotel in about two hours."

Haida's voice echoed softly from the side.

She was already fully dressed, the buttons of her fitted nun's robe were neatly fastened to the collar, and her power sword "Nirvana" was slung over her back, as if she were ready to set off at any moment.

Although the nun received a supervisor-level budget for this mission, close to 900 Norrington silver, it included almost everything.

For example, acquiring intelligence, preparing weapons, and daily food and lodging... spending all that on hotels is simply too extravagant.

"Okay, I'll go get ready too." (Ring)

Fran rubbed her eyes, then began getting ready after getting up. The Dreamflower Hotel had very complete bathroom facilities, and she quickly finished her morning routine. It was just a pity that Sigrid wasn't around, so she couldn't comfortably and conveniently dry her hair.

However, Haida actually had some experience in braiding hair.

Although her skills weren't as refined and precise as Sigrid's, they had a familiar quality, as if she were the nameless physician apprentice from his past.

"Knock knock." Nine

Just as Haida was about to discuss the day's specific plans with Fran, two knocks came at the door. The sound was crisp and strong, quite unlike the habits of the waitress from before.

"Are you here to let us know we're checking out?"

Vivian approached the door and gently turned the handle to open it.

Two detectives in white uniforms and a disciple of the Star Abyss Society stood at the entrance. The disciple's academic gown had a distinct Gormouth style, making him easily recognizable.

Heda narrowed her eyes slightly; she was very familiar with this style. Fran had once attended a White Cup academic symposium under the name "Flameme," and the outfit she wore was exactly this style.

"Greetings, everyone. I am Mitchell, the 'Star Advocate' of the Star Abyss Society."

Upon seeing the three ladies in the inner room, the disciple from the Star Abyss Academy took a slight step back to indicate that he meant no harm. Only then did he reveal the purpose of his visit.

"A violent incident occurred at the Black Sea Tavern last night, resulting in at least ten deaths and numerous injuries to innocent customers. Are you aware of this? Please cooperate with the investigation."

Upon hearing Mitchell's words, Vivian paused slightly, revealing a very natural look of confusion.

"Huh? We stayed at the Dream Flower Hotel all night and didn't go out at all?"

Mitchell nodded upon hearing this, without offering any rebuttal.

"This does indeed align with the testimonies from the Dream Flower Hotel, and we are willing to believe you are innocent. However, given the gravity of the matter, we request that you all give your statements..."

"Let me do it."

As she spoke, Haida approached Mitchell, while Vivian tacitly stepped aside.

Looking at the nun who seemed to be a little taller than herself, Mitchell felt a strange sense of pressure.

Although her features were delicate and almost gentle, and she could be called a beauty, her gray-chestnut eyes gave off a chilling feeling, like a wolf watching over the tundra under a snowstorm.

"Mr. Mitchell, how much do you know about this case?"

"This……"

Faced with her question, which almost took over the conversation, Mitchell was momentarily speechless.

According to regulations, suspects are not qualified to ask questions.

But the man noticed the brass signet ring on Hedatta's index finger, a symbol of the funeral director. And the blade of the sword on her back, much larger than a regular two-handed sword... the more he looked, the more pressured he felt.

"Ahem. Preliminary investigations indicate that this riot was caused by pirates."

After careful consideration, Mitchell revealed some details.

"They appear to be hunting someone; witnesses say the person has hunter-like features. Considering this happened just yesterday after you arrived from Norrington, I was wondering if you were aware of anything about it."

Haida was fairly satisfied with his approach to the case and immediately began to inquire about the specific details.

"Any physical characteristics are available? Funeral homes send out a large number of hunters every year; without relevant information, it's very difficult to track down a specific person." N

"Hmm... last night was chaotic; most witnesses were only concerned with escaping the tavern. A few testimonies mentioned that the hunter was very strong and a middle-aged man."

Mitchell seemed puzzled as he said this.

He didn't know why a routine questioning had turned into this case discussion; something felt off, yet it also seemed to be the way it should be…

“Tempering one’s body is also a commandment for hunters. Most middle-aged hunters possess the trait of ‘strength.’ It’s difficult to judge based on that alone.” (Neighbor)

Haida frowned slightly, appearing to be deep in thought.

“Mr. Mitchell, let me write you a statement about what happened yesterday.” Lu

"Okay, then I'll trouble you..." *kiss*

Hearing that she was willing to cooperate in writing a statement, Mitchell felt a strange sense of relief.

Since these individuals were all women and showed no signs of injury, they were clearly not directly involved in the tavern riot. His task was simply to follow the established investigative procedures and perform his duties.

Fran, sitting on the edge of the bed, swung her legs slightly, observing Haida as she wrote notes with a quill pen, a faint smile playing on her lips. (Three)

Although Haida was meticulous to the point of being almost flawless, her methods for handling such situations were not rigid.

She knew perfectly well that the person attacked last night was Bartley, yet she was still earnestly helping the complainant analyze the case... to the point that the scene seemed to have a strange sense of humor.

-

-

Oh my! Soup!

Chapter Seventy-Four: The Mystery of the Northern Kingdom

"Thank you for your cooperation, Sister Haida."

Looking at the detailed statement in his hand, Mitchell nodded and did not continue questioning.

The documents submitted by the hunter supervisor were very detailed, and he seemed quite approachable. This is quite rare for hunters, who are often eccentric and reclusive.

Under these circumstances, it would be rather impolite to make further demands, such as detention for observation.

Moreover, given Foy City's lax security regulations, which allow even pirates to land, I have no right to do anything else without solid evidence.

“It is my duty. In addition, if it is found that the incident is related to evil offspring, I can assist you in purifying them.”

As she spoke, Haida took out a handkerchief, wiped the remaining ink from the quill pen in her hand, and then carefully put it away.