The Most Arbitrary Wizard

Chapter 163: Chapter 97: Robes Florist

Sopea didn’t touch his wine glass either; he was still observing Robes.

Sean, however, got straight to the point. "How may I address you, Clan Leader?"

"Robes," the old man replied.

Sean nodded with a smile. "Good evening, Clan Leader Robes. Let’s keep this brief."

"Do you know about Zajik?"

"I do." Robes nodded. ’So that’s what this is about,’ he thought.

Sean asked again, "Since you know about Zajik, then you must also know about the Witch Hunt Operation?"

Robes nodded again. He glanced at Sean’s glass and said with a smile, "Why don’t our esteemed guests sample the wine first?"

This wasn’t an attempt to change the subject. It was his way of telling Sean that while he knew, he couldn’t speak about it.

His specific instruction to the maid to bring wine from the Church Court had a twofold meaning.

First, it showed his respect for Sean and his companions. This was the highest form of hospitality he could offer.

Second, by presenting the Church Court’s wine as the peak of quality, he was demonstrating that he still held the Church Court in a position of great importance.

The Florist Family didn’t want to betray the Church Court, but they didn’t want to make an enemy of Carl Black, either.

Sean still refused to drink. He pursed his lips. "Clan Leader Robes, you must have some idea of how many Wizards are caught up in this Witch Hunt Operation. The Church Court has always preached mercy and forgiveness. I can’t imagine they would ’indiscriminately kill the innocent,’ so there must be a reason for all this. I want to know what that reason is."

"Furthermore, of all the Wizards in the city they could have arrested, they targeted us specifically. For that, Clan Leader Robes, I think you owe me a reasonable explanation."

Robes looked troubled. "I really can’t say."

Sean stared at him. "And if I insist?"

Robes: "..."

He closed his eyes and sighed softly. "You’re forcing me to choose between you and the Church Court."

He truly didn’t want to choose either side. Or rather, he wanted to choose both.

Otherwise, no matter which side he chose, his family would become a pawn on the front lines against the other. The required pledge of allegiance would make the Florist Family the first piece to be sacrificed in this conflict, bearing all the costs of defeat without enjoying any of the spoils of victory.

No one would willingly do such a thing.

If he were forced to choose, he would have to pick the Church Court.

Because when he had helped untie Sean’s ropes, he had taken the opportunity to gauge his Magic Power.

Tier Three.

’This man isn’t Carl Black.’

’Or rather, Carl Black isn’t among these four.’

’Even if he were, for some reason his Power must be a shadow of its former self.’

’The four of them combined are no match for me.’

In other words, this confrontation with Sean and his group was not a life-or-death crisis.

Betraying the Church Court, however, was a different matter. If he told them what they wanted to know today, the Florist Family could be wiped from the face of the earth by tomorrow.

It was a matter of choosing the lesser of two evils.

Though few words had been spoken, Robes felt he had shown more than enough sincerity. If Sean and his group insisted on pushing him, then he would have no other choice.

When Robes opened his eyes again, all traces of his fawning, humble demeanor had vanished. In their place were indifference, composure, and a biting killing intent that stood in stark contrast to his earlier groveling.

He couldn’t kill the Pope and curry favor with Carl Black—he lacked the ability. But he *could* kill Blake’s men and go to the Pope to claim his reward and seek protection.

Sean clearly sensed the shift in Robes.

"So the Florist Family really is two-faced. They turn on a dime."

He sneered. "Make your move, Mr. Sopea."

"If he won’t talk, we’ll just take the answers from his mind ourselves."

VMMM!

The moment the words left his mouth, a tidal wave of Magic Power erupted from Sopea, as overwhelming as a tsunami.

He didn’t underestimate Robes just because he suspected him of being a Puppet. He attacked with his full Power.

A spinning Magic Array materialized before him and rapidly expanded, forming a circular Light Wall that slammed viciously toward Robes.

Feeling the torrential Power coursing through the Magic Array, even Kate was stunned. "And you said you couldn’t fight?"

Sopea snorted, not bothering to grace him with a response.

Lord Blake had rarely given him a chance to take action. Of course he had to seize this opportunity to put on a good show.

In Sopea’s estimation, this long-premeditated strike would leave Robes dead or, at the very least, severely wounded.

’He’s just a Puppet, after all.’

However, what happened next made Sopea’s eyes fly wide open.

Robes was old and usually paid little mind to his appearance. The currents of Magic Power whipped his salt-and-pepper hair into a wild dance, making the lone figure in the master’s seat look like a flickering candle in the wind, ready to be extinguished at any moment.

But he didn’t fall.

Not only did he not fall, he raised a hand, extended a single finger, and gently tapped the oncoming Magic Array.

The next second...

BANG!

An utterly terrifying surge of Magic Power—dozens of times greater than Sopea’s—erupted from his fingertip.

The Magic Array shattered instantly.

Along with it, Sopea’s body shattered as well.

He was utterly powerless to resist, unable to even twitch. He couldn’t make out the Spell Robes had uttered; he could only watch in horror as his own body shattered like a mirror, a voice of terrified disbelief escaping his lips:

"A Grand Mage?!"

...