Legend of Dragon Son-in-law
Chapter 1478: 1478 Good Night

Chapter 1478: Chapter 1478 Good Night

Dead?

Having experienced too many fake deaths, Julius Reed didn’t believe in death at all.

But an illness?

Sudden death?

Nonsense!

Anyone who could sit in the position of Inspector-General was invariably a Great Grandmaster-level figure.

Such figures, though not immune to all ailments, could only be killed by assassination, extremely rare viruses, or the Heavenly Dao itself.

But at the time, Jeron Marsh was in his prime!

He had just taken in eighteen concubines!

A martial artist of such formidable strength, suddenly dying?

And dying collectively?

When Julius Reed questioned them one by one, sure enough, he remembered those high-ranking officials with blood-red eyes who had participated in the rebellion—all had met sudden deaths.

“The prison…”

Julius Reed murmured repeatedly.

Could it be that all the secrets were hidden in that so-called prison?

From Pendleton’s founding to the Ten Thousand Mountain Alliance’s betrayal!

Who exactly was imprisoned in that place?

And where was the prison located?

Grace River!

That final strike—it was Grace River who pushed him down the mountain!

Then—how is she?

Or rather, was Grace River affected by what happened?

Bzzzz!

Julius Reed began to recall.

His mind felt as if it were exploding!

In his memories, Grace River’s eyes were blood-red, the corners of her eyes red as well.

“No way!”

He stood up and paced back and forth in the room.

“Grace River… Grace River…”

Julius Reed picked up his phone, his hand trembling as he dialed Lillian Tompson.

Among the four maids, the only one still by his side was Lillian Tompson.

Perhaps, when it came to matters between women, Lillian Tompson might have some clearer insights.

Although it was the dead of night, Lillian Tompson quickly answered the call.

“Saint Lord, what’s the matter?” A faint voice came through, tinged with fatigue and a subtle trace of excitement.

Clearly, she had been roused by the call.

“It’s not necessarily anything urgent.” Julius Reed hesitated, but before he could speak, Lillian Tompson interrupted him, “If you’re calling me, it’s definitely something urgent. You need Lillian Tompson when there’s trouble, and Grace River when there’s none.”

This left Julius Reed a bit embarrassed.

But he found it odd—why wasn’t it “Isabella Warm” instead?

Among the four maids, the one he indulged the most was indeed Isabella Warm.

What he didn’t know was that Lillian Tompson had worded it that way just for rhythm’s sake.

“Grace River… When was the last time you met her?” After a brief silence, Julius Reed voiced his doubts.

He had to confirm this!

Grace River!

A woman tied to the royal lineage!

The Princess of Mont!

Thinking about Mont’s recent attitude toward the new Saint Lord of the Ten Thousand Mountain Alliance, Julius Reed was almost certain that Grace River was somehow involved in all of this.

Someone had once told him that the royal lineage wasn’t powerful because of Mont; it was actually the royal lineage that had single-handedly created Mont.

“After your incident, Isabella Warm disappeared mysteriously. Grace River noticed it and quietly left Demarco Mount. Later, under orders from the eldest sister, I also left Demarco Mount to investigate the truth.”

After a short pause to think, Lillian Tompson spoke, “Back in the capital, I determined that Grace River and I knew of each other’s existence. At the time, Ivan Reed in Gonzalez City was nothing more than a chess piece laid down by Grace River. Ivan Reed frequently went to Gonzalez City to pursue Isabella Warm’s whereabouts.”

“So you’re saying Grace River remained lucid? She didn’t lose her mind? No dramatic changes in personality?” Julius Reed pressed on.

He felt a slight sense of relief.

“Probably not. But Grace River’s temperament did shift considerably—she often resorted to killing. Also, for a time, Grace River stayed in Gonzalez City. Based on my most recent intelligence, Grace River even spent some time living with you. Of course, that’s all irrelevant now. She’s vanished without a trace.”

After Lillian Tompson finished speaking, the conversation fell into a silence.

“Good night, Gabriel Young.” Julius Reed eased his mood and said goodnight to Lillian Tompson.

“Thank you.” Lillian Tompson ended the call, her heart warming.

Finally, he said goodnight to her?

No—wait!

Who is Gabriel Young?!

Lillian Tompson checked her phone, realizing the call had been disconnected!

Bang!

She threw her phone against the wall with force, grabbing a doll from under her blanket and pounding it repeatedly.

The doll had the face of Julius Reed sewn onto it.

“Sister, this is unnecessary.” Elwood Thorneycroft, who was nearby, shook her head helplessly and tried to persuade, “Sometimes, I really envy the Emperor’s youngest sister. Her carefree attitude, always calling men ‘dogs,’ is just so liberating.”

“Go back to sleep!”

Lillian Tompson hurled the doll with all her might.

Elwood Thorneycroft caught it effortlessly, hugging it to her chest with glee and even kissing it.

“Dog woman!”

Lillian Tompson froze, then pounced like an enraged lion toward Elwood Thorneycroft’s bed, snatching the doll back and carefully wiping it clean.

…

Dawn.

The sky remained dark.

Swimming City, the slums.

A man slowly slid open the iron doors of a scrapyard, starting his day’s work.

He had short hair, about three centimeters in length, and his beard was slightly untidy, seemingly from a lack of time to groom.

The man’s name was Marquis.

Marquis the Scrap-Collector.

Locally known as “Useless Marquis.”

He had arrived here over ten years ago, diligently operating the scrapyard with honesty and integrity.

Though mute, his honest nature and fair pricing had earned him a decent reputation.

People liked selling their scraps to the garbage collector Marquis.

This morning, as usual, Marquis opened the worn iron doors, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, and placed it in his mouth.

He sighed, fiddled with his phone briefly, then tucked it back into his pocket before taking out a lighter.

He ignited the flame.

In the dark night.

The firelight stood out starkly.

Finally, only the glowing tip of the cigarette remained.

After finishing a cigarette, Marquis coughed a few times, turned to shut the door, and hung up a “Closed” sign.

A minute later, he climbed into a rundown sedan.

The car was riddled with holes, caused by neighbors on the street who threw concealed weapon cases at it when Marquis had hurriedly driven past the Young Family compound that day.

But it didn’t matter; the car itself was scrap salvaged from the scrapyard.

It guzzled fuel.

Marquis sat in the car, turned the key in the ignition, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number.

“Is everything ready?” His hoarse voice rasped out slowly.

If his neighbors saw him, they’d surely use concealed weapon cases to attack him again!

The mute garbage collector Marquis—he could speak?

“No issues. In half an hour, we’ll detonate the prison amidst the chaos.” The cold voice on the other end replied.

“Good.”

Marquis stuffed the phone back into his pocket, glanced at the watch on his wrist.

The watch—exactly the same as Gabriel Young’s!

“Fifteen years of dormant waiting—only for today!” Marquis raised his head, shifted gears!

He stomped the accelerator!

Boom!

Black smoke billowed.

The sedan vanished into the slum’s streets.

City Lord’s Mansion, refugee camp.

Swimming City doesn’t have prisons.

But to detain criminals, the City Lord built a refugee camp.

The so-called refugee camp wasn’t actually for receiving refugees; it was used to imprison criminals.

Simply put—it sounded better.

At the moment.

Inside the refugee camp, in a somewhat lavish room.

Hagan Marsh sat on the bed, eyes closed, meditating.

Once the head of Nine Roads, now a prisoner—a fate that invited sighs and sympathy.

“Commander Marsh, still refusing to eat?”

Outside the door.

A guard from the City Lord’s Mansion sneered, “It’s almost dawn. If you don’t eat anything, there won’t be another chance later.”

Hagan Marsh opened his eyes, spoke faintly, “Your brow is blackened—a harbinger of bloodshed.”

Then, he shut his eyes again.

“You! Still think you’re Commander of Nine Roads? You’re nothing but shit now—at my mercy to stomp on whenever I like!” The guard couldn’t hold his temper, about to rush in but was stopped by his companion.

Boom!

Suddenly, a loud explosion echoed from outside.

The earth trembled in response.