Chapter 353

Royal Gazette: "Golden Juan Marquis Dies; Queen Dai'an Attends Memorial"

Critic's Report: "Murder or Conscience? The Cause of Golden Juan Marquis's Death Remains a Mystery"

Daily Headlines: "Golden Juan Marquis Drowned in Lake Yesterday; Before Diving, He Shouted 'I Am Guilty!'"

Horn Alley News: "Turned to Prince Just a Week Ago, Suddenly Dead at Home—Was Golden Juan Marquis Really Suicidal?"

Sun Gazette: "Vengeful Spirit? Golden Juan Family Sentinel: I Was Knocked Out by a Wild Cat That Night!"

"..."

Not bad—reactions match what I expected.

After discarding the wildly different Sun Gazette, Li Ang, who had worked all night the day before and slept well at home yesterday, opened the door to his office at the Clearance Bureau.

For some reason, in unusually high spirits, he extravagantly brewed himself a cup of black tea, sipping it slowly as he flipped through the remaining newspapers.

The sudden drowning of Golden Juan Marquis, newly appointed Secretary of Taxation and second only to the Minister of Finance, was no minor matter.

Though titled "Secretary," the position held immense real power: it involved shaping economic policy, adjusting and controlling commercial taxes, overseeing market operations, and serving as foreign economic advisor.

This seemingly unimportant post ranked as a second-tier official in the Kingdom's five-tier administrative hierarchy—only below the Prime Minister and the heads of each ministry.

The bizarre death of such a high-ranking official triggered a violent political earthquake in the capital.

Especially those who had once supported Princess Wang Nuwei but recently drifted toward Prince Joshua due to the Queen and Minister of Finance's maneuvering—each trembled with dread, suspecting this tragedy might be Princess Veronica's "warning." Even those uninvolved were intensely curious.

Understanding what the public wanted, major newspapers naturally rushed out special editions, flooding the airwaves with theories about Golden Juan Marquis's death.

As the architect of this event, Li Ang judged that, aside from the Sun Gazette's overblown horror narrative turning it into "The Vengeful Spirit of Bao Hua," the other papers' reports were fairly accurate.

Especially the Royal Gazette, with its vast resources, directly moved into Cuiyu Manor, interviewed everyone present that night, and described every detail—except its own existence—with remarkable precision.

According to the Royal Gazette, Golden Juan Marquis worked late into the night, then dozed off at his desk until dawn. His secretary dared not disturb him, draped a coat over him, and retired to the side room.

But when, at just after ten in the morning, the secretary noticed the Marquis still asleep, his face unnaturally pale, and his body trembling slightly, he could no longer hold back and woke him.

Upon seeing the secretary's face, the awakened Golden Juan Marquis let out a desperate scream, shoved the secretary to the ground, then sprinted down the corridor to the staircase, tumbling down the stairs while shouting "I am guilty!" and leaping into the lake clutching a large stone.

When they pulled him out, his mouth and nose were stuffed with waterweed, and his body was entangled with it everywhere—but his expression was not grotesque; instead, it bore a faint, strange sense of release.

"You're a genius!"

After Li Ang finished reading the paper, the illiterate ram's head on his desk chuckled happily:

"At one minute per lap, after you left, he slept over four more hours, waking and falling back asleep hundreds of times in your dream, each time jolted awake and chased straight to the lake."

And you used the secretary's face—when he woke up and saw the secretary leaning over him with concern, his first instinct was to run, then jump again."

"After all, if he moved too slowly, he'd be dragged back to Bao Hua Manor and subjected to nine hundred more executions... Wahaha! Art! This is pure execution art!"

After lavishing praise on Li Ang, the black ram, still unsatisfied, clicked his tongue in awe:

"You, boy, are a born demon!"

You didn't even touch him—just answered once at his door, tapped the red cross, and he spent the whole night in nightmares, then woke up and drowned himself."

Even the most skilled Clearance Bureau investigators can't probe what a dead man dreamed—especially since you were already home asleep when he jumped, and even worked overtime that night, writing piles of reports. Who could possibly trace this back to you?"

"Tsk tsk tsk—we're growing fonder of you every day. Too bad you only killed him last night. If only you could..."

"Enough. If you can't keep your mouth shut, go back to the Mirror World."

Li Ang glared at the chattering black ram and snapped:

"Do you think Clearance Bureau investigators are fools? We already pulled the same stunt at Lyne's house—if we do it again, even the dumbest will suspect me!"

"Alright, alright, I'll shut up, I'll shut up!"

Seeing Li Ang raise his hand toward him, terrified of being sent back to the Mirror World to serve as a urine pot for Little Ha, the black ram clamped his mouth shut.

But his bad habit was hard to break—soon he couldn't resist whispering again:

"I'm just saying, your new anomaly is incredibly useful. Might not work well against other anomalies, but against ordinary people? Just make a sound and they're done."

You've got so many people you want dead—why not work for the red-haired woman at the Clearance Bureau by day, then go out at night and take care of your own business? What do you think?"

"Not at all."

After carefully reviewing all the newspapers and confirming no suspicion could possibly point to him, Li Ang replied coldly:

"Never mind whether the Clearance Bureau might catch on—given the Kingdom's current state, even if I killed a thousand evil men, a thousand-and-first would rise. Murder alone solves nothing."

"If this case hadn't been so unusual, I wouldn't have acted directly—even if I knew, I'd have sought evidence to expose him, then let the Police Department or Princess handle it. Relying too much on violence isn't wise."

The black ram sighed in deep disappointment, scowling:

"Tsk... So inefficient!"

Hearing the ram's complaint, Li Ang sneered:

"Hmph. If you were Anomaly 001, I'd gladly act right now—kill every bastard, then make everyone follow my rules... But are you?"

"We... we still have great potential. If we recover what we lost, we could at least be... oh, right!"

After stammering for a moment, the black ram's eyes suddenly gleamed:

"That Sun Gazette reporter! Our tail's still with her! You're so powerful now—let's go get it back!"

"Shh! Be quiet!"

Hearing familiar footsteps, Li Ang clamped his hand over the ram's mouth, silencing its babble, while using the ram's soul vision to glimpse the familiar soul approaching outside the door.

"Tap. Tap-tap."

After a light knock, Emma outside bit her lip, forcing down her turbulent emotions, and whispered softly:

"Li Ang... Are you in? I'd like to talk to you."