Chapter 65: The Counterattack of Marquis de Gramont

  It turned out that Kirsten's premonition was correct, and Marquis Glanzte would indeed be in big trouble...

  The sales of the evening paper soared at an astonishing rate, as the dark elves stood guard day and night in front of the Marquis's mansion, and those thieves penetrated everywhere under the stimulation of gold coins. Poor Marquis de Glangtais was instantly engulfed by the torrential waves of public opinion, without even having a chance to resist.

  For a whole month, every issue of the Ivory Evening Post had news about him, not negative reports, but gossip and revelations of past events. In short, if any issue of the evening post lacked the material of Marquis de Glangtais, it would affect sales.

  "Shocking Insider! 60-year-old Marquis and Only Son Get into a Big Fight on the Street, Suspected to be Over a Woman?"

  Overnight, hundreds of **mysterious disappearances occurred on Elephant Island. An insider revealed that a certain nobleman happened to pass by before the incident.

  "Charity or Show? Some Beneficiaries Claim Moldy Donations from Marquis of Glentworth"

  Ying Zhao, a professional dancer, said in an interview that the special hobby of a certain nobleman was unacceptable, resulting in the sale of wax skin whips.

  Former neighbor counterattacked, hinting that Marquis was eccentric in his early years, causing female neighbors to dare not take baths at home.

  "Extra! Extra! Unscrupulous rich young master drives after drinking, hits and injures pedestrian, still shouts 'My dad is Ge Langtai' after being arrested."

  So, a large number of true and false news reports, like intense cannonballs, targeted the Marquis de Glangta in a concentrated fire, no matter where he went, doing something, even if it was just pulling over a little girl on the side of the road to say a few words, would be immediately accused of planning to deceive Little Lori to watch goldfish...

  What is called "a multitude of mouths makes a golden voice"? What is called "accumulated slander destroys one's bones"? What is called "three people make a tiger"?

  Poor Marquis de Gramont, every time he sees the evening paper, he gets so angry that his mouth bleeds. In a fit of rage, he simply doesn't go out. If you can't avoid trouble, hide from it. From today on, I'll just stay at home and see what else you people can write!

  It turns out that those paparazzi who struggle for manuscript fees have long been shameless like the Yangtze River flowing endlessly. What if they don't come out? What if they hide? Our Director Lin said, there is news to be reported, no news, and manufactured news must also be reported.

  So, after the Marquis de Gramont had spent three days at home, when he opened the latest evening paper in a good mood, he immediately saw a bold and striking headline that made his heart skip a beat.

  The Marquis has been locked in his house for three whole days and is suspected of having committed suicide due to deep feelings of guilt.

  Tears streaming down his face! At this moment, the Marquis de Glangyale was overcome with grief and indignation. Is there anything more shameful in this world? Those reporters who would sell their souls for money are absolutely shameless, stopping at nothing to get a scoop. Especially this morning, several of those scoundrels who had once been employed by him took advantage of their familiarity with the marquis's estate to sneak in and try to take some compromising photos to sell for a high price.

  What's worse, those foolish commoners outside are increasingly believing these fabricated reports. Some gathered at the gate to protest and demand the disclosure of donations, some gave speeches in front of the parliament calling for an investigation, and a few idiots even brought over a big basket of eggs and tomatoes as gifts...of course, they were thrown!

  Especially those who are running for election, they are even more gleeful and eager to kick someone when they're down, afraid that their own demise is not thorough enough. Now, even when they pass by the kitchen, the stout auntie with a waist thicker than a bucket will give them a hundred disdainful glances before hastily putting away the **hanging outside...

  Damn evening newspaper! Damn dark elf! Damn thieves' guild! Damn kitchen maid!

  Marquis Gelong was furious in the study, smashing more than a dozen pieces of Oriental porcelain in one breath. To know that this is his most beloved plaything in peacetime, but now thinking of these porcelain also comes from the East, and that damned little white face comes from the same place, he hates to gnash his teeth with rage.

  At this moment, the butler rushed in from outside the door and reported excitedly: "Sir, I just went to the evening newspaper office to protest, but that little white face actually told me that the journalist who wrote that suspicious article about your suicide was... was... a temporary worker."

  Pffft! Marquis de Gramont is spouting blood from his mouth again, and the amount of blood he's spat out these past few days adds up to more than he's spat in his entire life: "Damn that little white face, damn that Eastern monkey, does he really think I have no way to counterattack? Galli, go gather the best writers for me, we'll start a newspaper too and curse that bastard a few hundred times every day!"

  "Alright, alright." The butler naturally raised both hands in approval, but despite his approval, he still stood in place, hesitating with a look of doubt on his face. "Sir, your plan is certainly good, but you also know that the young white-faced man seems to have mastered advanced printing techniques. If we use outdated woodblock printing, not only will it waste time and effort, but it will also cost a large sum of money."

  It was as if a heavy fist had been slammed into his face. The Marquis de Gramont's bluster instantly deflated.

  The fact is that he can indeed afford to publish a newspaper for revenge, but the problem is that if he uses backward letterpress printing, he will lose more than ten copper coins per print. If he prints 10,000 copies and considers continuous publication for over a decade, the huge amount of money required would be unbearable even for the wealthy.

  "Damn it!" Gnashing his teeth in hatred, yet unable to do anything about it, the Marquis of Glanthal swept all the precious items off the table with a wave of his hand. "Am I supposed to just sit at home and watch those bastards slander me like mad dogs? If this continues, forget running for parliament, even..."

  Without warning, in that instant, the oil painting hanging on the wall of the study suddenly burst out with a strong deep blue light.

  The Marquis de Gramont turned round involuntarily, changed colour for a moment, and then sprang up like a jack-in-the-box, bowing low as if he were the humblest servant waiting to be received by His Majesty.

  Almost simultaneously, as the oil painting gradually transformed into transparency, a circus clown with a face full of oil paint and wearing a bright red sleeping cap appeared in the painting.

  With a thick layer of lipstick on his lips, he opened his ridiculous and laughable big mouth and let out a sharp and piercing mocking sound: "Wahahaha, wahahaha, my dear Marquis... uh, sorry, maybe I should call you Congressman?"

  There was no doubt that the jester's words and actions were laughable, but Marquis de Glangta couldn't help but not laugh at all. Instead, he turned pale and trembled: "Jester sir, please forgive my negligence. Recently I've encountered some troubles, so I couldn't deliver the gold coins and resources on time. However, please believe..."

  "Tsk, tsk, tsk, how dare a lowly person like me criticize the great you?" The clown interrupted again with a sharp laugh, but the cold glint emanating from his dark eye sockets was as sinister and cruel as a venomous snake. "However, it doesn't matter anymore. My life has been quite difficult lately, so I'm planning to send some poor guys to beg on Ivory Island in person. You won't mind, will you?"

  No! The Marquis de Gramont turned pale as death, and he knew what was meant by begging.

  Several months ago, this evil and terrifying pirate leader, Joker, had dispatched hundreds of pirates to secretly infiltrate White Bird Island to beg for food. The final result was that nearly two thousand people were killed by the butcher's knife, tens of millions worth of wealth was looted, and more than half of White Bird Island was burned to ashes, with no chance of recovery in decades.

  Now, this greedy and vicious pirate leader who is about to break through the Black Iron rank has set his sights on the even richer Ivory Island. Heaven knows what he will do here. What's worse is that considering Ivory Island's tight defense, he absolutely won't let the pirate fleet come into a head-on collision, but instead coerce himself as an insider.

  "Right, I'm sure you'd be delighted to help us out of the goodness of your heart, wouldn't you?" The clown raised a cup of red wine and drained it in one gulp. "Prepare a cargo ship that can enter the port, tell us about the defensive situation on Ivory Island, and then think of a way to distract those guards. Doesn't that sound simple?"

  Is this still called simple? The Marquis of Grolante was trembling uncontrollably, and for a few seconds, he really wanted to refuse recklessly, but under the other's evil and cold gaze, he didn't even have the courage to raise his head, let alone refuse.

  Just the next moment, as if he suddenly thought of something, he trembled slightly and immediately said with great respect: "Yes, sir, I will do as you instruct, but may I make a request, a small one?"

  "Request?" The clown licked the corner of his mouth, where a bright red wine stain had formed, and his entire face twisted into a grotesque grimace. "Dear Marquis, I thought you were already my loyal servant, but it seems you still want to haggle over prices. How disappointing."

  "No, no, no, I am your servant, the most faithful of servants." The Marquis de Gramont was sweating profusely and hastily bowed even lower, "I'm just asking for your help because recently, I've had a bit of trouble. My niece, Christine, who should have died long ago, brought back some Eastern pretty boy from who-knows-where..."

  Bang! Without warning, the clown's red wine glass suddenly shattered, with four splashing and scattered glass shards, even deeply piercing his palm: "Hold on, you just said, Easterner? An Easterner with a cow head?"

  "How...how did you know?" Marquis de Glangte raised his head in astonishment.

  "Of course I know, and I know better than you." The clown's eyes gleamed with a faint green light, like hidden venom, as he licked his lips with a sinister smile.

  After a moment of silence, he suddenly let out a sharp laugh, full of vicious nerves: "Great, great, this is really good news, the target I've been searching for all along was hiding on Elephant Island."

  "Did you agree?" Marquis Grolante showed a surprised expression, although he didn't quite understand the reason behind it, but one thing was certain, with the help of this pirate leader, that damned little white face would not be able to escape.

  "Why not?" The clown opened his ugly big mouth, revealing a set of dirty yellow teeth. In an instant, the seawater was like a raging flame that engulfed his body, gradually disappearing into the transparent oil painting.

  At this moment, with the sudden collapse of the oil painting, the entire study was plunged into a dark and gloomy atmosphere, with only a sharp, venomous laughter still echoing in the air.

  "Off you go, my dear children, to the Ivory Isle, pay your respects to those kind and wealthy noble gentlemen, and bring back that yellow ape's hide... Hmmm, just what I needed for a rug in my captain's quarters!"

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