Little Hartman's miserable screams were still continuing, and even showed signs of growing worse.
Seeing this, Old Hartman finally couldn't hold back anymore. He stepped forward and tried to remove the blue-gray frost that was constantly corroding Little Hartman's flesh.
Yet no matter what kind of potion or magic he used, it had little effect at all, at best, it could only slightly slow down the spread of that blue-gray frost.
That was exactly the viciousness of cold poison.
This ultimate magic, created by Link by combining his water-controlling ability with the power of curses, perfectly inherited the characteristics of black magic curses, namely, that the damage it caused could not be healed by any means other than a specific counter-curse.
That was also the reason why Link had chosen to attack Little Hartman with cold poison.
He intended to use Little Hartman's miserable state to display his strength, and to warn everyone present, to let them understand what kind of tragic end awaited anyone who dared to offend him.
As for the pitiful Little Hartman, of course Link didn't intend to kill him.
Letting him suffer some pain and lie in bed for a year or so was still quite necessary.
At this moment, the look in Beckman's eyes as he gazed at Link had already changed.
The Hartman family wanted to test Link, but wasn't Beckman also using this opportunity to test his abilities?
After all, Link was destined to inherit not only the entire Beckman family in the future, but also the title of Saint.
Fortunately, Link's performance was not as sunny and gentle as Leonie and the others had described, some kind of refined young gentleman.
On the contrary, in Beckman's eyes, Link looked more like a cold, ruthless schemer, cruel and venomous.
And that was precisely the kind of heir he wanted.
Thinking this, Beckman's smile grew brighter and brighter.
At the same time, an old man who had been standing by the edge of the Veela stage, motionless from beginning to end, suddenly moved.
This old man wore a worn black leather jacket, a pair of filthy, torn jeans, and on his head sat a dark brown cowboy hat that covered a messy head of graying hair.
His attire was utterly out of place in this luxurious banquet hall.
But what was strange was that as he slowly walked toward Little Hartman, Old Hartman immediately stepped aside neatly, his eyes filled with hope.
"What a vicious brat."
A hoarse but faintly admiring voice came from the old man's mouth.
As he spoke, he used his wand to stir at the rotten flesh on Little Hartman's chest that had already been completely corroded.
This, without a doubt, intensified Little Hartman's pain, raising the screams in the banquet hall to a new level.
But the old cowboy didn't care.
He continued fiddling with the wound for quite a while before chanting loudly, "All curses vanish, all magic ends!"
From the tip of the old cowboy's wand emerged ribbons of glowing silver-white light. They wound gently around Little Hartman's wound.
Under the influence of these light ribbons, the blue-gray cold poison finally stopped spreading, and strands of cursed power began to dissipate.
Little Hartman's screams gradually weakened, turning into faint groans.
It was clear that the old cowboy's actions had eased his pain, though only temporarily.
Because once the outer layer of cold poison had been completely dispelled, those once gentle light ribbons transformed into countless sharp blades, madly slicing and flaying at Little Hartman's wound.
That drove Little Hartman completely insane.
Yet the old cowboy had no intention of stopping. He continued controlling those ribbon-like blades until every bit of rotting flesh was cut away.
By then, Little Hartman had become a man drenched entirely in blood.
The deepest part of his chest wound even revealed white bone.
Link narrowed his eyes, staring fixedly at that old cowboy.
The man had used a method of forcibly expelling cold poison through sheer, pure magical power, a technique that required immense magical mastery and power, but caused tremendous harm to the afflicted.
"That's Old Longger, a solitary man with no children," Beckman's voice sounded by Link's ear at the perfect time.
"He's the strongest among us, and the main pillar behind the Hartmans. If it weren't for him, I'd have wiped out those Hartman traitors years ago."
Link nodded slightly, his gaze toward Old Longger growing more cautious.
From his observation, this old cowboy's combat power was likely even above that of elite professors like Snape. One-on-one, Link would not be his match.
Of course, the other side wouldn't be able to kill him easily either.
Just then, Old Longger began wiping his wand with a silk cloth and said helplessly, "Beckman, you're talking bad about me again, aren't you?"
"Ah, yes," Beckman sneered back.
"I must let this boy know about your shamelessness and filth, so that he doesn't get too close to your kind. Otherwise, he'll catch your stink."
At this time, Old Hartman was already ordering two Veela to quickly tend to Little Hartman's wound and carry him off for further treatment.
Hearing Beckman's words, Old Hartman could no longer contain himself. He drew his wand and roared furiously,
"Old Beckman! You've gone too far! Little Hartman is my only grandson! Avada..."
A flash of red light...
The wand in Old Hartman's hand, glowing with green light, was struck out by Old Longger.
Old Hartman himself was also sent flying by Longger's shove.
He landed hard, face twisted with rage, and was about to shout at Longger, but before the words left his mouth, his angry expression froze into terror.
Because in the spot where he had just been standing, there now stretched a long gash, the surface smooth as if sliced cleanly through tofu.
"What a pity," Link sighed softly.
There was still a faint magical glow lingering at the tip of his wand.
If not for Longger's interference just now, Old Hartman would have ended up the same as his grandson.
The terrified Old Hartman could only point at Link with a trembling hand, unable to speak.
Longger, however, nodded in appreciation.
"Not bad, boy. Beckman, the heir you've found is truly outstanding, enviable, even. But it seems he doesn't understand manners very well, daring to attack right in front of me!"
As soon as he said that, Longger's eyes turned sharp, and a crimson light flared from his wand tip.
Seeing this, Link and Beckman didn't back down, they both raised their wands at once.
The atmosphere in the banquet hall instantly became explosive.
"Oh dear, we're all allies here, no need to make such a scene. It's so unsightly."
A soft, teasing voice suddenly rang out.
Then Link saw the twin sisters, who had been watching quietly from the corner, approach with smiles and laughter.
At the same time, the black-haired mother and daughter pair walked toward Longger and Old Hartman.
"What a handsome young man. If I were only a few years younger, I'd marry you no matter what."
"Oh come now, it's not too late even now. I think I still look good enough."
"Hush, hush, stop saying such embarrassing things. Little Link, don't be angry, okay? We sisters just like you too much. Don't bother with those old geezers, they're senile already."
"That's right. Even that brat Little Hartman's been spoiled by them. Arguing with them is just a waste."
———
The twin sisters kept trying to soothe Link, completely ignoring Beckman beside him.
To be honest, seeing them up close, these twin sisters were truly beautiful.
More importantly, the wizarding world's beauty magic was far beyond that of Muggles. With the help of various potions, these women, who were at least over thirty, still retained the peak beauty of girls seventeen or eighteen.
And combined with that paradoxical air of innocence and seduction they exuded, Link swore that almost any normal man would feel instinctively drawn to them.
He was no exception.
Still, he hadn't planned to completely fall out with Longger and the Hartmans that night anyway. So after being teased by the Kugel sisters for a while, he naturally put away his wand.
Clearly, the old cowboy Longger had no intention of fighting to the end either.
Soon after Link lowered his wand, he did the same, even giving Link a smile and a nod.
This made the Kugel sisters even more excited.
They leaned in on either side of Link, their bodies brushing lightly against him, clearly wanting to take his arm.
Beckman watched without interfering, even a little amused.
He could tell the sisters weren't lying, they genuinely liked Link.
After all, as top-class socialites, they didn't usually throw themselves at strange wizards like this.
Since that was the case, Beckman wanted to see how Link would handle such sincere affection.
Under Beckman's mischievous gaze, Link's lips slowly curved into a smile.
The Kugel sisters saw that and were about to move closer, but just as they were about to take Link's arm, a ferocious snake's head suddenly poked out from his collar, jaws wide as it hissed, "Sssssss!~ (Surprise!)"
"Ah!" two voices
The Kugel sisters jumped back in fright, one even tripping and falling to the floor.
The sight made Arkam burst into delighted, hissing laughter.
Link's smile grew even brighter.
He patted Arkam's head and hissed back in Parseltongue, "Sssss!~ (Good job. Don't stop, keep scaring them.)"
"Hiss! (Roger!)"
Answering, Arkam slithered down Link's arm, his body expanding larger and larger until, upon landing, he had transformed into a massive venomous python, no smaller than Voldemort's Nagini, coiled beside Link.
Its golden eyes swept across the room, and everyone it looked at felt a stabbing pain in their minds. The demonic whispering of the serpent's language made them instinctively tremble.
The Kugel sisters looked utterly terrified.
"Weren't we supposed to discuss business? Then let's talk."
Link spread his hands with a smile.
As he did, the people in the banquet hall all stepped back again.
The only one who didn't move was Old Longger.
He looked calmly at Arkam, who was baring fangs at him, and said casually, "Fine then. Since everyone's here, let's officially begin our discussion regarding our visit to Grindelwald."
As soon as Longger's words fell, the long table that had been piled high with wine and food vanished.
A brand-new solid wood conference table slowly rose from beneath the floor.
Link and Longger took the lead in sitting down, occupying the two main seats opposite each other.
Then, under Arkam's watchful eyes, the others followed and sat down one by one.
The meeting officially began.
In truth, there wasn't much to discuss.
The main points had already been privately agreed upon by the four allied factions long before.
The purpose of this meeting was merely to probe Beckman's intentions.
After all, Beckman was a staunch traditionalist.
He had clashed countless times with them in the past over Grindelwald.
It seemed unlikely he would be willing to join them.
But from their perspective, the fact that Beckman had brought his heir Link here tonight clearly meant consent.
That was good news for everyone.
Thus, the so-called discussion turned into more of a briefing session.
And the ones being briefed were Beckman and Link.
From their words, Link learned far more hidden truths.
The most shocking among them was this, the assassination of Grindelwald had been orchestrated entirely by the International Confederation of Wizards.
Even though Grindelwald's long imprisonment had greatly weakened his body and magic, and he no longer had a wand, no longer that invincible Dark Lord of the past, they still feared him deeply and wanted him dead.
Yet because of Dumbledore's existence, they could not strike him directly.
So, they used promises of political gain and loosened restrictions to lure Longger, the Hartmans, and the other families into offering Grindelwald's head as their pledge of loyalty.
As for the assassination plan itself, it was absurdly simple.
On the anniversary of Grindelwald's defeat, they would all go to visit him, shout to him from the prison, and when he refused to meet them, launch a full assault.
Among the five factions, Longger, being the strongest, would serve as the main attacker.
The others would contribute according to their means, those with money gave money, those with strength lent strength, and those with neither would at least shout.
In short, they had to take Grindelwald's head that day and present it to the International Confederation of Wizards as a gift.
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