Chapter 55: Ryan Fahler Never Breaks a Promise

Ryan had once publicly promised to solve the South District serial murder case within two weeks.

Today was the final day, yet the Imperial Capital Garrison still had not disclosed any useful information or actual progress to the public.

Among the many newspapers in the capital, only *The Sun God*, a tabloid known for fabricating gossip about the imperial family, grudgingly spared a single sentence in one of its columns: "The Commander of the Imperial Capital Garrison was appointed based on a bragging competition, and clearly, this new commander has won that title quite deservingly."

Every media outlet was instead exhausting pages reporting on a recent major event—the protest march by the women of the capital.

Marching was a traditional staple of the imperial capital.

Every year, during the election phase for the Senate and the Tribunes, swarms of election ruffians would mobilize in groups, brandishing banners and shouting slogans as they marched through the streets and alleys of the capital, going door-to-door to threaten residents into voting for the candidates behind them.

If the election ruffians of rival candidates happened to cross paths, street brawls were inevitable, frequently resulting in broken heads and even murder.

However, the vast majority of the demonstrators this time were women of the capital.

According to conventional wisdom, dying on the battlefield was a man's job, while women only needed to do housework, tend to children and the elderly, and worship the Hearth Goddess every week.

Yet the current serial murders, which had exclusively targeted female victims, filled the capital's women with immense terror. Pouring out of every household and into the protest ranks, they cursed the useless men, the pathetic Imperial Capital Garrison, and the royal family and nobility who had done nothing to address the issue.

Whenever they encountered nobles or imperial civil servants on the streets, these women would pull out stinking eggs, rotting cabbages, and even terrifying weapons stained with menstrual blood, hurling them fiercely in concentrated assaults.

No one dared to provoke this fierce procession.

If election ruffians were attacking the populace, both capital guards and noble bodyguards would rush to demonstrate their valor and thoroughly crush those ragtag groups.

But women... losing a fight to them was shameful, and winning against them was even more shameful. Consequently, the men could only flee in panic.

An elderly senator with limited mobility was surrounded by the enraged women of the capital, who tore his clothes and pants to shreds, snapped his only good leg, and then departed amidst furious curses, leaving the poor old man to wail miserably on the street, seemingly on the verge of transitioning from social death to physical death.

Ryan had commanded the capital guards to rescue him from the street and bring him back to the barracks. Two Gold Cloaks who had shown exceptional bravery even received extra commendation—after all, had they encountered the women's procession on the road, they likely would have met the same fate, as neither armor nor sharp swords could protect them.

Soon, not a single man dared to show his face at any street corner or intersection in the capital.

Such an unprecedented and fierce record gave the women of the capital an immense sense of security and achievement. Quite a few even publicly tore off their upper garments, baring their chests, and twirled fragments of fabric in their hands while loudly mocking the men hiding inside their homes.

As the organizers of this event, the Amazon Association also reaped the greatest fruits of victory. Hundreds and thousands of demonstrators voluntarily came forward to register, hoping to officially become "valiant Amazons" so they could continue to protect themselves alongside their fearless battle-sisters, never again having to rely on those cowardly and incompetent stinking men.

Bah!

As the procession reached the gates of Duke Darkros's mansion, a few miserable meows suddenly echoed from within the courtyard walls.

Immediately afterward, several battered cats managed to scramble over the courtyard wall, plunging into the women's procession and emitting plaintive cries for help.

Filled with compassion, the women put aside their protest march and hurried to check on the condition of the cats.

The state of the cats was atrocious.

Their entire bodies were covered in messy wounds, their fur matted and dirtied by dried blood and sweat. Even more chillingly, their scalps had been peeled back by sharp blades.

Just like the victims of the South District serial murder case, these poor cats had been subjected to horrific abuse.

Considering they had escaped from the mansion...

Case solved!

In an instant, the Duke's mansion was surrounded by the enraged women of the capital. Countless people began violently kicking the walls and the main gate, hurling stones into the courtyard.

"What is going on?" Duke Darkros, startled in his study, hurried out to ask.

"The servants report that dozens of injured cats climbed over the wall from the east side," the butler reported swiftly.

"Cats are injured? Have they been rescued?" the Duke asked anxiously.

"The servants caught most of them and sent them off for medical treatment," the butler said with an anxious expression. "But a few panicked and fled over the southern wall, running straight into the women's procession outside. They..."

"What about them?"

"They seem to believe these cats prove that Your Grace is the murderer of the South District serial case."

Duke Darkros's complexion changed drastically, and he said with a trembling voice:

"How could it be me? I... I am a Duke! Why would I kill those plebeians? Where is the evidence? What evidence do they have to accuse me? The Darkros family cannot suffer such a slanderous injustice!"

The butler had no answer to his Lordship's interrogation.

In terms of evidence, the injured cats escaping from the Duke's mansion could already be seen as giving the Duke strong suspicion of cat abuse.

People who abuse cats are psychologically deranged. If they dare to take pleasure in torturing cats today, tomorrow they might find it unsatisfying and move on to torturing humans. To the populace, this logic was so rigorous and watertight that it was practically unassailable.

Therefore, Lord Duke was the murderer of the serial killings. The ironclad evidence was like a mountain; there was no doubt about it!

Duke Darkros turned pale as a sheet, quickly realizing he was in a position where he could not clear his name no matter how he tried to explain.

The furious women of the capital would not listen to anyone he sent to explain, and his greatest advantage—the backing of the capital's nobility—was virtually useless against these unreasonable capital rioters.

"Let's go!" the Duke quickly made a decision. "Escort me to the manor outside the city to take refuge!"

With the enraged women of the capital surrounding the mansion on all sides, the hope of escape was actually extremely slim, but staying here would undoubtedly result in an even more miserable end. Consequently, the butler could only urge the Duke to quickly disguise himself as a family knight, and summoned the genuine family knights to swiftly escort the Duke away.

When encountering rioters, no mercy need be shown; execute them on the spot!

Soon, Duke Darkros, disguised as a knight, attempted to forcefully break out through the southern gate alongside the heavily armed family knights.

The moment they rushed out, they saw a dense hail of stones raining down upon them like arrows!

While armor could effectively protect against slashing and piercing from swords and blades, it struggled to withstand the blunt-force trauma of thrown stones. At close range and with overwhelming numbers, a lack of physical strength or precision no longer mattered at all.

The Duke and the knights were battered and staggered by the flying stones, growing dizzy, and were quickly swarmed by the crowd. Each of them was grabbed by the arms and legs by half a dozen burly women, rendering them completely immobile. Others specifically removed their helmets and smashed stones fiercely into their faces.

Behind a distant street corner, Ryan quietly cast a Curse of Weakness, silently suppressing the knights, and used a Group Fury spell to ignite the fighting spirit of the women. With the tide turned against them, Duke Darkros was thoroughly trapped in a dead end, soon meeting a violent demise akin to that of Han Xin.

Listening to the Duke's wails grow increasingly faint, Ryan calmly pulled his hood up to conceal his face, turned around, and vanished into the shadows.

Having promised to solve the case within two weeks, Ryan Fahel would never break his word.