Became a Demon with Pregnancy System-Chapter 133: Tracking the Blood Agent

In the back seat, Walter said nothing, but a troubled expression etched into his features. Am I partly responsible? the guilt must have whispered. He never suspected that fulfilling a contract for Mann’s staff could be fueling a grand deception.

Eventually, the SUV rounded a corner, merging onto a broader avenue lined with tall, stately buildings.

Lights flickered from a row of shops, some still open for the night crowd. Up ahead, the silhouette of a steel-and-glass high-rise emerged—Walter Murphy’s family estate likely perched on the upper floors.

"We’re almost there," Walter murmured. He rummaged anxiously in his pockets for the digital keycard to his suite. "All my data is stored in a private safe. I’ll show you everything."

Lenora’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Once we have it, we’ll cross-check with the criminals’ confessions. Then the Judgment Society can decide how to proceed. If Councilor Mann truly orchestrated this, we’ll strike swiftly." She glanced at Luke. "And I suppose you’ll be along for the ride."

Luke responded with a calm nod. "Wouldn’t miss it."

For a moment, none of them spoke further. The prospect of confronting a high-ranking council member—one who had championed so many demon-cleansing missions—felt like stepping into a moral quagmire.

If Mann had turned from dragon slayer to evil dragon, toppling him would require more than just illusions and intimidation. They needed rock-solid proof, plus the political will to prosecute him.

But as they neared their destination, the tension in the vehicle only grew. Each occupant had reason to fear the impending revelations:

Lenora Quinn, who risked stirring a scandal within the Judgment Society itself;Walter Murphy, who might see his family business crumble if the truth implicated them too deeply;Luke, whose meddling in high-level conspiracies might draw yet more powerful adversaries.

Nonetheless, the path was set. A final turn brought them into an underground parking area, the SUV’s headlights reflecting off polished concrete pillars.

As they parked, the hum of the engine died away, leaving only the dull echoes of water dripping from the city’s drainage overhead.

Lenora grabbed the keys from the ignition. "All right, Walter. Show us the way."

He gave a shaky nod. "Follow me."

A slight chill hung in the air as Walter Murphy half-ran, half-slid down a stone stairway on the outskirts of Arcadia.

His mind reeled from the conversation he had just overheard between Luke and Lenora Quinn. In his haste, he misjudged the final step, tumbling onto the wet pavement with a harsh thud.

"Ow..." Walter groaned, pushing himself to his knees. His heart hammered wildly, sweat beading on his forehead. He glanced around in a panic, as though expecting shadowy agents to drag him off at any moment. What have I gotten myself into...?

"Hey, careful there." Luke’s voice sounded from behind. He caught up and offered Walter a hand, hauling the trembling young man to his feet.

Walter, still in a daze, blurted, "T-Tutor Luke—th-this has nothing to do with me. I swear the blood agent our family makes meets every standard. It’s top grade! We wouldn’t ever produce an inferior product for the military. It’s not just illegal—it’s a grave sin!"

Tears prickled Walter’s eyes. Though older than most typical students, he was still only in his twenties, and he lacked the calm poise of a seasoned mage.

Leaning heavily on Luke’s supportive arm, Walter anxiously sputtered, "I’m the Murphy Family’s only hope. I can’t cultivate well, so I handle the business side. If this scandal breaks, my father will kill me—literally!"

Luke placed a calming hand on Walter’s shoulder. "Relax," he said, voice surprisingly gentle.

"As long as you cooperate and help us trace the real culprit, we’ll ensure your family’s name stays clean.

Think of it this way: if someone’s tampering with the blood agent behind your back, exposing them is the only way to protect yourself."

Walter sniffled, mustering a shaky nod. "All right, if you say so."

Lenora Quinn had quietly observed their exchange, arms folded. She wore a guarded expression, still trying to gauge how this teary-eyed young businessman played into the conspiracy. He looks so earnest, she thought, but can we trust him to be more than a blubbering mess?

"Let’s move," Luke declared, releasing Walter. "You mentioned the supply route is handled through a certain distribution hub. If we hurry, we can check it out tonight."

Walter paled slightly, glancing at the moonless sky. "It’s so late, though...won’t the place be locked down? I, uh, we usually ship things in daytime hours..."

Luke flashed a half-grin. "That’s exactly why we’re going now. Less foot traffic means less chance of tipping off whoever’s behind this sabotage."

Lenora arched an eyebrow, her authoritative aura reasserting itself. "You’re sure you can get us inside, Walter?"

Walter gulped but nodded. "Yes. I have access to the premises. Just...please don’t break anything."

Before they set off, Lenora gestured to the black-suited Judgment Society members standing nearby, some bundling up unconscious criminals.

"Send Scarface and the rest back to headquarters. Interrogate them carefully. See if any mention of Councilor Laurence Mann surfaces."

"Yes, Vice Chair Quinn!" one of the men answered, saluting sharply.

Lenora turned to Luke and Walter. "Let’s go. If Luke wants to do midnight skulking, then so be it."

She said it grudgingly, but inside she acknowledged that Luke’s approach might be the most efficient.

If these saboteurs realized the Judgment Society was investigating, they’d bury evidence fast. A nighttime surprise check gave them an edge.

A short while later, the trio arrived at a stark white compound on the outskirts of Arcadia. Rows of rectangular buildings, each labeled with coded numbers, stretched across the flat terrain.

Bright floodlights bathed the area, reflecting off tall fences topped with razor wire.

Walter guided them to a small entry gate where a tired-looking guard dozed in the booth, apparently not expecting visitors at such an hour.

At the beep of Walter’s ID card, the gate slid open without protest. They slipped through, crossing a broad courtyard to an unassuming warehouse.