Transmigration To Magus World-Chapter 64: Underhanded Tactics

The food and wine were served.

Three small plates appeared on the table, each offering a different delicacy: marinated beef, salted peanuts, and stir-fried broad beans.

For this humble, rustic tavern, this assortment was close to the best it could offer in terms of appetizers.

Anything more extravagant was simply out of the question.

The tavern didn’t have a master chef or access to exotic ingredients that might cater to a more refined palate.

This was as good as it got, a modest spread suited to its humble status.

As for the wine, it was indeed of excellent quality—a well-aged rice wine, known for its rich, deep flavor and esteemed among connoisseurs.

Two small jars of this wine could fetch a high price—seven or eight taels of silver if sold in a bustling town marketplace.

In this remote area, where fine wine was a rarity, the price could be even higher.

This was the finest wine the tavern had to offer, a luxury by local standards.

Anything more costly or elaborate wouldn’t find a buyer here, where patrons weren’t accustomed to spending lavishly on drink.

Of course, the presentation was just for appearances.

Blackhearted Hand, the man operating this tavern, didn’t run the place purely for profit from food and drink.

Bringing out high-end liquors or extravagant offerings would only raise suspicion, drawing unnecessary attention.

Despite the boastful claims of Young Master Marco—who had arrogantly threatened to burn down the tavern if the wine wasn’t up to his standards—Blackhearted Hand wasn’t foolish enough to bring out premium liquor worth hundreds of taels.

That would only invite trouble from greedy and curious onlookers.

Aizen, the humble tavern attendant, personally served the food and wine at the table.

He wasn’t tipped a single copper coin for his efforts; instead, he was met with contempt from the powdered-face young master, who sneered at his worn attire.

With a single swift kick, Marco sent Aizen sprawling to the ground.

Aizen played along, rolling on the floor to amplify his clumsiness, feigning helplessness to please the young master and his entourage.

Though he allowed himself to be humiliated now, Aizen had plans for revenge.

Enduring the mockery and physical abuse was only part of his scheme.

He knew that later, his enemies would pay dearly for their arrogance.

The young master’s servants roared with laughter at Aizen’s pitiful display, and the two beauties sitting beside Marco chuckled softly as well.

Their laughter, gentle as a ripple over still water, carried undertones of mockery and superiority.

To them, Aizen, a lowly tavern worker, was nothing more than entertainment, an expendable figure from the lower ranks of society.

"When you’re kind, people will take advantage of you; when you’re meek, others will ride over you," they seemed to believe.

To them, people like Aizen existed merely to serve or to be made sport of.

One of Marco’s guards, a burly man armed with a saber, grabbed Aizen and pressed him down beside the table.

He forced a small jar of Grape Wine in front of Aizen.

Now, Aizen was only two feet away from Marco, close enough to see the disdain and cold scorn in the young master’s gaze.

Aizen knew he could strike Marco down with a single application of his Frost Palm technique, ending the young master’s life in one swift motion.

But he also recognized that, although this would be the quickest approach, it was far from the safest.

The two guards, formidable in their own right, and the carriage driver were all on alert.

The driver, though he displayed no overt signs of power, was the most dangerous of the three.

Unlike the guards, he kept a subtle but close watch on Marco, never straying more than five paces from him.

The old man’s seemingly unremarkable presence could easily mislead anyone not paying close attention.

Yet Aizen sensed that if he attempted a sudden strike now, he would have to face the driver’s counterattack and the combined assault of both guards, which would be risky even for him.

Each of these three protectors was a skilled sorcery artist, proficient in sorcery at the later stages of the Innate Sorcery level.

In the Magus world, this level of skill was considered quite formidable.

Aizen had previously fought and defeated opponents like Krul and Kean, who were at this level, and they had posed significant challenges.

The guards were close in strength to those two, and the old driver’s abilities remained inscrutable, adding an element of unpredictability.

Aizen knew he needed patience and caution.

Without absolute strength, he relied on his cunning and subtlety to turn the situation to his advantage.

Feigning timidity, Aizen picked up a half-bowl of wine and drank it, pretending to choke on the liquid and forcing his face to turn red, as if overwhelmed by the strong alcohol.

He put on a pitiful, helpless expression to lower their guard, appearing like a "good-for-nothing who can’t even handle wine."

This act convinced his audience even further of his inferiority.

After downing the wine, Aizen was made to sample the food as well, essentially being used as a test subject to ensure it was safe for the others to eat.

After watching Aizen drink and eat with no apparent issues, Marco relaxed and instructed one of his servants to pour the wine for him.

"Ah, pour me a bowl as well. You all, take a seat," Marco said, inviting the guards and driver to join him.

Convinced by Aizen’s unthreatening demeanor and Blackhearted Hand’s lack of resistance, they believed the tavern posed no danger.

The guards and driver, observing from the side, finally lowered their vigilance.

The saber-wielding guard kicked Aizen aside, then took his seat at the table.

The driver, now slightly less cautious, followed suit.

This gesture confirmed the different statuses of the group, with the guards and driver seated as Marco’s trusted protectors, while Aizen, a mere servant, was dismissed as irrelevant.

Marco, nestled in the arms of the beauties beside him, indulged in wine and food, reveling in his debauchery.

Aizen observed this scoundrel’s behavior with contempt; he was clearly spoiled and lacked any true abilities.

Outwardly, Aizen maintained his role as a fearful attendant, but inwardly, he was already circulating his internal energy, expelling the traces of poison from the food and drink he had consumed.

The dishes were, in fact, laced with a slow-acting, odorless paralytic powder.

Aizen had anticipated this and discreetly taken an antidote earlier.

By combining the antidote with his internal energy, he was rapidly neutralizing the poison in his system.

Once the others had ingested enough of the drugged food and wine, Aizen would be ready to strike.

After the time it took to burn half a stick of incense, Marco, who had drunk the most, began to feel uncomfortable, attributing it to the alcohol.

The guards and driver were still wary but their vigilance was slipping, making them susceptible to the poison’s effects.

Finally, the driver noticed something was wrong.

His face darkened, and his murky eyes sharpened into a steely gaze.

Slamming his hand on the table, he shouted, "Stop! This food and wine are poisoned!"

The table shook violently under his strike, and with a resounding crash, it collapsed.

The guards, feeling the onset of the poison’s effects, jolted awake and sprang to their feet.

Marco, now sweating profusely, found himself unable to muster any strength.

Aizen allowed a cold smile to cross his face as Blackhearted Hand laughed with wicked glee.

The trap was set, and the time had come to close in on the prey.