Extreme Cold Era: Shelter Don't Keep Waste-Chapter 896 - 125: The Final Opportunity

Perfikot's sharp gaze swept across the faces of the crowd, and she was keenly aware that someone hadn't spoken the truth.

After all, if everyone was telling the truth, how did the poison get into the soup? It couldn't be that the soup was brewed for too long and magically turned into poison, could it?

She meticulously sorted through everyone's statements, temporarily ruling out the possibility of the chef poisoning the food.

It was a simple deduction—if the chef truly intended to poison, he could have added the poison to a dish she particularly liked, ensuring she finished it. Even if she were poisoned, investigators would find it difficult to pinpoint which dish caused it.

In contrast, putting poison in the beef broth undoubtedly left a huge flaw.

As a seasoning, the broth is used so broadly that once it's discovered to be poisoned, it's easy to ascertain that the poison was added to the soup pot.

This method of poisoning was too obvious, not something an experienced chef would likely employ.

Perfikot's fingers lightly tapped the table, and this deduction shifted her focus to others who had the chance to access the soup pot.

Although the chef was temporarily cleared of suspicion, others were not so fortunate.

Especially those who had the opportunity to approach the soup pot after the kitchen maid had tasted the soup, each was worth investigating further.

However, Perfikot did not immediately carry out a detailed investigation, or rather, she lacked the patience to eliminate each innocent person from suspicion one by one.

To her, more pressing than identifying the specific poisoner was uncovering the deeper motive behind the act—why would someone dare to poison her? Was there a bigger conspiracy behind it? Were there accomplices still lurking in the shadows?

Thinking of this, her sharp gaze, as sharp as a blade, swept over the trembling crowd, her voice cold and authoritative: "I'm giving you one last chance to confess yourselves; perhaps I can grant you some leniency."

The room fell into a deathly silence, broken only by the rhythm of nervous breathing.

Everyone kept their heads down, faces filled with fear and unease, yet no one opened their mouth to admit it.

Some secretly wiped the cold sweat from their foreheads with their sleeves, others clenched their clothes tightly, and some cast furtive glances around, but no one stepped forward.

"Alright, since no one's speaking...," Perfikot squinted her eyes, ready to order the entire group to be regarded as suspects and subjected to severe interrogation.

However, before she finished speaking, an agent hurriedly pushed through the crowd, quickly approaching her side, bending down to whisper something in her ear.

Perfikot nodded slightly, her fingertips gently caressing the intricate carvings on the armrest, and her gaze slowly swept across the faces of the people, an inscrutable emotion glinting in her heterochromatic eyes.

"Take the chef away," she said gently yet imperatively, "He didn't poison the soup."

She paused for a moment, a faint, ambiguous smile playing at the corner of her lips: "A true chef who loves food wouldn't desecrate their work in such a manner. It would be a desecration of the culinary arts."

The chef, upon hearing this, immediately had tears streaming down his wrinkled face.

He trembled, wanting to kneel and thank her, but was escorted out by a guard, who held his arms.

Perfikot's gaze never left the remaining people, her slender fingers rhythmically tapping the table.

"I'm giving you one last chance," her voice suddenly turned cold, as chilling as ice-cold steel: "Confess voluntarily, tell us of your accomplices, and I may consider leniency."

She slowly stood up, her icy gaze sweeping across every remaining person present.

"Otherwise..." she deliberately elongated the tone: "All the mines in Marsel will undergo a thorough purge, and none of your accomplices will escape."

In a corner of the room, a thin figure unconsciously tensed his spine.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, cold sweat trickling down his temple. Mines... how could she... this thought entwined his heart like a venomous snake.

But to confess now would undoubtedly be sending his companions to Perfikot's executioner's blade.

So even knowing he might implicate innocents, he could only grit his teeth.

In fact, what the agent had whispered to Perfikot was alarming news of a miner uprising in Marsel's mining district. These rebellious miners had occupied the depths of the mine and were confronting the local security forces.

But the agent had only objectively reported the facts, without mentioning any connection between the miners, the mining district, and the attempted assassination of Perfikot. It was merely Perfikot who deduced a connection based on the current situation. She astutely linked the two incidents, suspecting they might be the work of the same group.

She intended to use this news to test the reaction of those present, to see if anyone would crack under pressure. But from the looks of it, the poisoner's psychological resilience was quite strong; everyone present maintained a poised and calm demeanor.

However, this also caused her to lose the last shred of patience, with a glint of ferocity flaring in her cold eyes. She decided to abandon this "empathic" interrogation method and resort to more direct means.

Perfikot's command swept through the room like a winter chill, the air freezing over as if it had turned to ice in that instant. Her voice wasn't loud, yet it pierced every ear like a sharp icicle, causing spines to unconsciously stiffen.

"Take them away, interrogate them fiercely until someone speaks," she said, word by word, each syllable laden with a stifling sense of oppression. Her gaze was icy and piercing, scanning those trembling kitchen staff as if inspecting a group of lambs led to slaughter.

Before she finished speaking, she turned to her aide, her tone as sharp as a knife: "Immediately order the local garrison in Marsel to suppress all rebellious behavior with full force! If there's resistance—" she paused slightly, the corner of her mouth curling into a savage smile, "kill without mercy!"

The murderous intent in her words sent shivers down everyone's spine in the room. The aide's back was soaked with cold sweat, but he dared not hesitate, sharply bowing to take his orders: "Yes, Regent!" Then he turned and left, his boots thumping on the floor like a death knell.

Perfikot's gaze swept across the room like an icy blade, her fingertips tapping lightly on the gilded armrest.

The crisp sound resonated in the deathly silent council chamber, like the hammer of judgment.

With this light sound, the guards immediately stepped forward, roughly dragging those kitchen staff whose faces had turned pale.

One kitchen maid stumbled and fell but was ruthlessly dragged away by the guards, her skirt dragging across the floor with a harsh scraping sound as her fingers clawed hopelessly at the carpet, to no avail.

Suppressed sobs echoed down the hallway but were soon muffled by heavy doors, as if those cries of despair had never existed.