The thick oak door and soundproof barrier completely isolated the clamor of the banquet hall.
Inside the study, the fireplace blazed, casting flickering shadows on the ferocious beast head mount on the side wall.
The air was tinged with an immature tobacco smell—a result of the Empire’s underdeveloped tobacco cultivation technology.
Yields were low, but precisely because of that, tobacco had instead become a symbol of wealth and power.
Liya sat with her legs elegantly crossed, sinking into the wide red velvet high-backed chair.
Click.
She casually flicked a gold coin engraved with a peony blossom into the air, watched it spin and fall, then let it roll into the shadow of the carpet like trash, not even bothering to pick it up.
“Icot, this deal should be the last one.”
Liya toyed with the gold-wire pipe, her tone lazy, carrying the recklessness and arrogance that came with sudden wealth.
Bishop Icot, sitting across from her, heard this and his teacup trembled slightly.
A few drops of scalding tea splashed onto the back of his hand.
He frowned, unsure if it was from the burn or from Liya’s words.
Without wiping it off, he leaned forward, his voice desperately trying to hide anxiety, but still sounding tense.
“What do you mean? Lage, this business has been good for so many years. Just stop like that?”
Even though Icot had many ways to gather wealth, he still couldn’t underestimate the profits from selling demon collaborators.
That was the lifeline of the Old City District Church, sustaining its daily expenses and rewards.
Icot’s greatest virtue was self-awareness.
He knew what kept him popular.
Once those reasons disappeared, the same people who supported him now would despise him just as much.
“The risk is too great.”
Liya said slowly.
Icot fell silent.
He had to admit that “Lage” was right.
Recently, Jon had been giving him a headache.
That kid was impervious to both soft and hard tactics.
He only wanted to get to the bottom of that Inquisition Court mess, with no room for negotiation.
Icot had never met someone so stubborn!
Behind him, the many mouths waiting to be fed would push him forward.
If he could, he would also want to retreat.
But one step back meant the abyss, forcing him to keep his mouth open.
But… without this, making money was tough.
How could he fill all those mouths below?
Being a leader was no different from being a slave—he couldn’t stop for a moment.
Icot sighed deeply, knowing the answer but asking anyway.
They both knew what this meeting was really about.
“I learned a great business from a merchant in the west.”
Liya leaned forward, getting a bit closer to Icot, a mysterious smile curling at the corner of her mouth.
“Selling demon collaborators… too slow.”
“Slow?!”
Icot’s eyes widened as if he had heard a cold joke.
Selling demon collaborators—small investment, huge returns—how could that be slow?
“Small, your vision is too small.”
Liya wagged her finger, her tone deliberately exaggerated.
“The most profitable thing in the world isn’t doing business—it’s doing finance. Making money from money always earns more than making money from goods.”
She spoke with conviction.
“There’s a big merchant in the west, Pang Zi. You know him? I bet you don’t. He made fifteen million in two years! Can you imagine? That’s the art of catching a white wolf with empty hands!”
“Empty hands… catching a white wolf?”
Icot muttered to himself, his heartbeat involuntarily quickening.
“The Dry River Territory had a big flood. You know about that, right?”
Liya lowered her voice, like a demon whispering in his ear.
“I know. A major disaster.”
“No, that’s an opportunity.”
Liya corrected, her red eyes smiling without mirth.
“Think about it. After the flood, everything needs to be rebuilt. Right now, there are four century-old, high-quality merchant houses in Dry River Territory facing bankruptcy because of the flood. They urgently need a large cash injection to restart. Once the funds are in place, in that place full of cheap labor and unowned resources, it’ll be a goldmine every day! It’s practically picking up money!”
As she spoke, Liya raised one finger.
“Invest now, principal can be withdrawn anytime, and I promise a dividend of ten percent of the principal every seven days! Not only that, but the merchant houses’ equity is limited. The price now is dirt cheap. Once operations start running, it’ll be mountains of gold and silver. If you resell it, you’ll get at least ten times the return!”
“Ten times… ten percent…”
Icot felt his throat go dry and swallowed hard.
This was indeed a tempting offer—even he was a bit moved.
But after all, he was an old fox who had lingered in the Church for years.
His reason hadn’t temporarily gone offline because of the profit.
“Hold on.”
Icot asked warily, “What if the funds are invested and the merchant caravan can’t operate? What if something goes wrong midway and we lose money? And… a ten percent dividend every week—how high does the profit have to be to sustain that? Is the caravan subsidizing it itself?”
“Exactly!”
Liya snapped her fingers, her smile even brighter, but also full of playfulness.
“You’re right. The caravan is subsidizing itself. Even more—this caravan doesn’t do business, because it doesn’t even exist!”
Icot let out a shocked “Ah.”
He abruptly sat up, the chair scraping the floor with a harsh sound.
Confused and angry, he said, “Are you mocking me? This is a scam!”
“Sit down, sit down.”
Liya waved her hand calmly.
“Let me finish the story. Lord Bishop, just now that story—did it move you? Was it tempting?”
Icot nodded.
“Exactly.”
Liya propped her chin, her crimson eyes deep.
“This is the first layer of the business—fooling the stupid.”
“But in this world, the money of the stupid is ultimately limited. People are most foolish and easily deceived when they are also the poorest, squeezed dry of oil.”
“So, we need the second layer—fooling the smart.”
Liya stared into Icot’s eyes, speaking each word deliberately.
“Anyone with a bit of brains can see that the ten percent dividend is problematic. They know this is a game of pass the flower with the drumbeat.”
“But—”
“What if, at that moment, there’s a crowd of fools waving money, red-eyed and desperate to rush in? Could you resist not taking a scoop?”
“You know the building will definitely collapse. But you also know that as long as you run fast enough, the dust of the crash won’t catch you. You’d think of yourself as the lucky one who can escape unscathed at the last moment, the scythe that reaps the fools.”
Icot slumped in his chair, rubbing his forehead in thought, his breathing slightly quickening.
He calculated seriously in his mind.
This was a huge gamble.
But if executed properly, the profit would be a hundred or a thousand times that of selling people.
“To fool the stupid, exploit their ignorance. To fool the smart, exploit their arrogance.”
Liya stood up, walked to the window, turned her back to Icot, and gazed at the night outside.
“And as the ones setting the trap, we are unbeatable from the start.”
She said lightly.
“In the end, the greediest and slowest of the ‘smart’ will pick up the tab.”
“This is a tacitly understood deception.”
The room fell into dead silence.
Only the occasional crackle of firewood in the fireplace broke the quiet.
Inside Icot, a fierce battle raged, gradually leaning toward—do it!
On one hand, the scale and profit of this scam made his soul tremble.
If he pulled this off once, not only he, but even his useless nephew could retire on the spot, coasting through life under the Church’s wing.
On the other hand, Jon had indeed backed him into a corner, stirring up thoughts of retreat in his heart.
The tacit, unwritten rules of the Old City District Church were most afraid of stubborn people like Jon.
If he could change his source of income, he might be able to sweep away the remaining evidence and wash himself clean.
Finally, greed overcame caution.
“In whose name will this be initiated?”
Icot’s voice was hoarse.
“And after things blow up, how do we safely withdraw?”
“Don’t worry.”
Liya turned around, a smile of confident control on her face.
“I’ll arrange a proper scapegoat. At worst, I’ll be the one taking the lead out front. What are you afraid of? Do you think I’d just abandon such a big gang and run?”
“As long as our scythe swings accurately and we don’t touch the truly untouchable big shots, this is the safest business.”
Icot frowned, thought for a moment, and raised his final doubt.
“But… does the Empire Capital really have that many rich, greedy ‘smart’ people with no background or power for us to harvest? Ordinary merchants and minor nobles probably won’t yield that much oil.”
Liya didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she walked up to Icot, leaned over slightly, like a demon tempting a human to fall.
Her red lips parted.
Liya slowly uttered two words.
“Succubi.”
Icot froze.
A few seconds later, the muscles on his face began to twitch, then he burst into an uncontrollable, relieved laughter.
“Hahahaha! I understand! So that’s it! So that’s it!”
Icot laughed so hard tears almost came out.
The last shred of doubt in his heart vanished.
Succubi!
They were the richest, greediest, yet the most socially powerless group in the Empire Capital!
They held piles of gold coins earned from men, but after Demon King Lia died and the demonkind surrendered, they were in a rather awkward position!
They thought themselves clever, flitting between men, but they were the easiest to be fooled by such a glamorous bubble.
Reaping them was only natural.
Even if it all blew up eventually, would the Empire pursue a district bishop over a bunch of alien whores?
“Lage, you’re a genius. This is a perfect plan!”
Icot praised wholeheartedly.
Liya smiled slightly, her eyes meaningful.
“Alright, Lord Bishop.”
She straightened her collar, resuming her composed elegance.
“Go back and prepare. I’ll make a detailed plan for you to review soon. Then we’ll strictly follow the steps, alright?”
“Old friend, what doubt could I have of you?”
Icot expressed rare trust.
Liya raised her glass, her brows and eyes full of smiles.
“Happy cooperation!”
“Happy cooperation!”
Two goblets clinked, the crisp sound like a musical note.
The glass reflected Icot’s excited, flushed face.
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She really hates those succubi, and for good cause.