Beneath the Mask of Caution and Madness Lies...

Flames flickered, and a deafening explosion roared.

Under the force of the shockwave, windows, doors, and even the weaker sections of the walls shattered instantly.

Along with them, Dr. Hode's corpse was obliterated as well.

Swart crouched beside the carriage, holding onto his hat. He glanced at Goethe, then at the ruins of Dr. Hode's residence, and silently raised Goethe's danger level in his mind by another notch.

As a police officer, even one as negligent as he was, Swart had encountered his fair share of ruthless individuals, shaped by the unforgiving environment.

But someone like Goethe, this was a first.

Cautious, meticulous.

That wasn't frightening.

Plenty of people possessed those traits.

What was truly terrifying was when someone combined caution and meticulousness with a reckless, almost unhinged… madness.

Yes, madness.

Swart had seen it clearly just moments ago: Dr. Hode's corpse had only "come to life" after the explosives were thrown in!

Which meant that before that, the house had been perfectly normal.

Yet, faced with that "normalcy," Goethe hadn't hesitated for even a second before blowing the place to bits.

Just a mere suspicion nothing concrete was enough for him to destroy everything, completely indifferent to the consequences.

Even if the aftermath proved Goethe right, the thought alone made Swart's scalp tingle.

Because he couldn't help but wonder, what if Goethe ever suspected him?

A shiver ran down his spine.

The outcome was self-evident.

Without hesitation, Swart turned to Goethe, who had already risen to his feet, and plastered a fawning smile on his face.

"What should we do next?"

His tone was one of pure deference.

"Follow your usual procedures."

Goethe stepped onto the carriage as if leaving everything in Swart's hands.

"Call in the men. Lock down the scene."

Swart issued the orders with practiced ease.

The patrol officers who had witnessed everything had no objections.

They immediately sprang into action.

Meanwhile, the massive explosion had drawn the attention of the residents of Linden District.

Unlike those from the lower districts, the people living here were mostly middle-class or above.

They didn't have to struggle for their daily meals. Each had a stable income perhaps not on par with the wealthy elite or nobility, but leagues above the lower classes.

This meant they had the time and the audacity to be curious about what had happened.

And they weren't afraid to question the police.

That was when Swart stepped forward.

While the patrol officers maintained order, Swart addressed the gathered residents.

"My apologies for the disturbance," he said. "After our initial investigation, it appears to have been a gas explosion."

He sighed. "Unfortunately, Dr. Hode was at home when it happened…"

With that, Swart removed his hat and placed it solemnly over his chest.

The surrounding residents followed suit, their expressions tinged with sadness.

"Dr. Hode was a good man."

"I was planning to hire him as my personal physician."

"I can't believe something so terrible happened…"

Voices murmured in low tones.

Some of the grief was genuine.

But some?

Pure pretense.

Swart had no intention of exposing them. Instead, he played along.

Once their curiosity was satisfied, he turned to board the carriage.

But as he opened the door, he froze.

Goethe wasn't inside.

An inexplicable sense of unease crept up his spine.

Swart immediately bent down to check under the carriage seats.

And when he saw the open crate of explosives now missing several sticks, his face darkened.

But a second later, he composed himself.

Muttering under his breath, just loud enough for himself to hear, he said:

"Two gas explosions in such a short time… Looks like the gas company will need to thoroughly inspect all of Linden District. And as a responsible police chief, I should personally oversee the entire process… with absolute fairness."

Something flickered in his eyes.

Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face.

A strange sense of anticipation welled up within him.

Farrow leaned against the wall and slowly made his way downstairs.

Each step sent a wave of agony through his body, as if his internal organs were being stabbed by knives.

But he gritted his teeth and pushed forward.

He was too weak now.

Weak enough that even a child could overpower him.

Although he had already taken care of the male owner of the house, the female owner who was out had not yet returned ordinarily, this wouldn't matter to him. If she came back, he could just dispose of her. If not, then she was simply lucky.

But now?

If she happened to return suddenly, it would be him who got eliminated.

The explosion just moments ago had already drawn the attention of enough police officers.

Even if they were just a group of incompetents, at this moment, they were a threat.

The thought of the explosion made Farrow grind his teeth in frustration.

The trap he had set was flawless.

Even if Goethe had suspicions, he would have come back to inspect Hode's body. At that point, Farrow would control the corpse and strike a fatal blow.

What he hadn't anticipated was that, from the beginning, Goethe never entered the house.

Not only did he not enter, but he had even brought a box of explosives, lit it, and tossed it inside.

Standing by the window, Farrow saw the scene unfold. He immediately attempted to control Hode's body to make a final stand.

But it was too late.

As Hode's body was destroyed, Farrow suffered a violent backlash.

"I'll need at least two weeks to recover!"

Farrow never imagined that, even with his newfound Supernatural power, he would be forced into such a situation by mere mortals.

"Just wait!" he thought angrily. "Wait until I recover! I'll make you wish you were never born!"

He pushed open the door and looked at the crowd of ordinary people and police gathering across from him. He let out a cold laugh.

The baseness of mortals!

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

He was determined to return to his lair without delay.

Although urgency gripped him, his body, weakened by the backlash, prevented him from walking quickly. He staggered forward like an elderly person, each step slow and painful.

Farrow had taken five minutes to cover the hundred or so meters to the street corner.

Here, he could catch a public carriage.

He exhaled a sigh of relief.

His current condition wasn't suited for much movement.

Once he reached the street corner, far from the police, Farrow allowed his vigilance to relax.

He gazed down the road, waiting for the public carriage to appear.

He didn't notice a pair of eyes watching him from the shadows since the moment he left the house.

At this point, a gun barrel emerged from the darkness.

Despite the backlash, Farrow was still able to sense it.

Instinctively, he tried to dodge, but his weakened body was unable to respond. He managed only to twist his torso halfway, enough to catch sight of the figure holding the gun behind him.

"It's Goethe!"

Farrow's face twisted with fear.

Without hesitation, Goethe pulled the trigger.

Bang!

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

The first shot struck Farrow in the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Goethe then aimed at Farrow's head, continuing to fire.

Five more shots.

Until Farrow's skull was shattered beyond recognition, Goethe cautiously stepped out from the shadows.

In his hand was another revolver. As he moved forward, he fired two more shots, one at each of Farrow's chest sides.

And then?

A bundle of five lit sticks of dynamite landed directly on Farrow's body.