Ethan deliberately lowered his voice, glancing around exaggeratedly, and said, "Don't be discouraged, I still believe you have a chance."

"I'll take that as your compliment to me."

Bazarian responded fluently. It was hard to tell which words from Ethan, who casually changed others' names to "Hakimi," were sincere and which were sarcastic. She chose not to delve into it. "This is the game you proposed."

An interesting man, an interesting game.

Deciding the future direction of this city, and even the Far West, through a mayoral election.

A very creative idea.

She also saw through Ethan's purpose, "In this way, you can minimize the damage."

If she were to truly fight Mary in Oasis City, everything in the city would turn into ruins. Bazarian still remembered the scene of Mary slicing half of the Holy City with a single sword; for an ordinary human, she was indeed impressive.

"I admit the election rules are unfavorable to you. Mary has a huge advantage in terms of consultants. If you need, I can serve as your advisor in the next few days."

"An advisor or a double agent?"

"An advisor, absolutely."

"I'm not reassured unless you can prove your loyalty to me."

"How to prove?"

Bazarian chuckled softly, her slender fingers gliding over the surface of the sofa, leaving a warm trail. The spreading blood-red energy seemed like animated blood threads, or like spreading roots penetrating the velvet, with countless dormant blood vessels under the fabric activated by this red trace.

Then, the sofa's shape started to twist and swell, its wooden frame replaced by newly grown living tissue, from which deep red tendrils emerged. The tendrils were not sticky with mucus; instead, they were covered in a delicate shine akin to ancient silk, slowly winding and extending, possessing the flexibility of plant vines and the sensitivity of animal tentacles.

A bud, resembling both flesh and plant, blossomed and bore fruit within the theater at a visible speed, emanating a grotesque beauty akin to Bazatous' power.

In the place where tendrils and leaves twined, a fruit like a pomegranate or an unknown tropical fruit grew, its front elegantly splitting and extending before finally shaping—a necklace, a perfect ring, smooth on the inside with subtle patterns on the outside, and at its core, a red glow flowed like a sleeping heart.

Bazarian's eyes were captivating, "Put it on."

Her voice was soft, as always gentle in tone, yet now with an added hint of aggression, "Brand your soul with my mark."

The Goddess secretly plays such a flamboyant game?

Ethan was confused but greatly shaken.

Bazarian's authority even bestowed this mundane object with an artistic beauty.

"To be honest, I don't have this fetish."

Ethan looked troubled.

Bazarian seemed to have anticipated Ethan's response, only chuckling softly, "You aren't even willing to wear this necklace, yet you want me to believe you would sincerely come to be my advisor?"

She playfully held the necklace with her slender index finger, making the necklace spin with her fingertip's motion.

"It is indeed too difficult... I could treat you to dinner."

"No need."

The gaze from behind made Bazarian feel on edge, "I never planned on destroying this place; this game is just a sideshow."

After all, she had beautiful memories at the Eternal Theater.

She elegantly stood up and approached the white-haired, red-eyed witch whose entire aura exuded coldness, Miss Witch, in the theater.

Bazarian had never interacted with this Miss Witch but could immediately discern the fundamental differences between Lindong and Mr. Hakimi.

Not only could she fight, but she could also scratch.

Both skills were equally adept.

"Miss Cat."

Bazarian approached, facing Lindong's hostile gaze, and stood in front of her, her lips curling upwards so that even Ethan could hear her voice, "I want to report."

These familiar four words made Ethan lose all composure, while Lindong's gaze shifted from confused to clear.

"Your husband was just sneaking peeks at my legs."

Bazarian gently lifted Lindong's right hand and placed the necklace born from the Tree of Flesh in her palm.

Everything was said without words.

Ethan clearly saw that before Bazarian left, she not only made peace with Lindong but also shook hands with her courteously.

Before long, only he and Lindong were left in the theater.

Now it was Lindong's turn to use her slender index finger to lift the necklace, mischievously twirling it in circles, advancing step by step toward Ethan.

Ethan, harboring a glimmer of hope, asked, "Dong, you wouldn't really believe her nonsense, would you?"

"Hehe."

The crows of the world are all the same!

Damn it, there's no good thing about politicians!

Ethan had an epiphany.

From today, he would become an anarchist!

.........

Since Saint Mary's appearance, everything in Oasis City had improved.

Especially for the residents of Lower City; not long ago, Mr. Grave brought back another exciting piece of news—a formal arrest warrant was issued by the Security Office to Oasis City's mayor, Hafeez. It not only proved to them that the trial wasn't over yet but also signified the complete collapse of Hafeez's power.

Apart from this exciting news, Grave also brought back many medicines.

Magic Potions formulated by Mary and her most trusted high-tier alchemists, able to cure the "Fang Sickness," these luxuries usually displayed in the Upper City's Magic Potion shops were now being distributed to them for free.

Finally, there was hope in life.

The residents of Lower City lined up neatly in the square, some humming tunes, and others discussing their future lives.

It was as if Lower City had come back to life overnight, with smiles back on people's faces.

Grave stood on a platform, having not slept for two whole nights.

He was somewhat dazed, his overdrawn strength causing him to be on the edge of collapsing, yet the eyes of Lower City's residents motivated him to persevere.

Compared to Pope Carlo's proposed vague day of redemption, this was something he could truly see and touch. Despite his aged body struggling, now was the time to demonstrate the resilience of the Truth Society, and he had to hold it firmly in his hands.

Just like he had to personally distribute this batch of Magic Potions to families afflicted with "Fang Sickness."

This was a good start.

He was surrounded by voices of gratitude from the people.

The sun set, and night stealthily covered the sky, while he perhaps needed to hold on for just one more hour to be able to go home and rest well for a while.

To lie on the bed and sleep soundly for an entire day.

Grave was almost functioning on instinct, with occasional thoughts in his mind just to prevent himself from falling asleep on the platform.

Until he heard a sharp sound.

That sound came from the crowd, overshadowing the thanks and laughter of the people, almost becoming the only sound in the world at that moment.

The dizziness grew stronger.

Grave vaguely heard exclamations and screams from the crowd.

After that sound, everyone's gaze was fixed on him.

He saw the residents who hadn't yet walked away put the Magic Potions on the ground and rushed toward him recklessly.

Grave lowered his head, looking at his chest.

Dark red liquid soaked his old suit, yet strangely, he felt no pain, only that everything in Lower City was moving farther away from him, even those who were desperately rushing toward him.

His remaining consciousness did not last until people reached his side; darkness claimed Grave's vision.

Sleepiness made him close his eyes.

"Thud."

Grave heard the sound of something heavy hitting the ground, presumably the sound of a body falling from the platform to the ground.