Chapter 127: Chapter 101: The Withered Church and the Sad Witch

’But what Silver Demon Hunter wouldn’t be tempted by a Secret Technique? Even if you don’t need it, you could still use it as a bargaining chip for future profit, right?’

Besides, L was a Bounty Hunter renowned in Prole for their greed.

The more Yalilan thought about it, the more she felt something was wrong.

She lifted the kerosene lamp and gazed out the window, her pupils reflecting the gloomy sky in the distance. The shadow she had previously detected beneath it with her Hunter’s Eye now seemed almost tangible.

Thinking back on it, it seemed to carry the faint scent of blood as well.

As the library clock ticked past the line dividing yesterday from today, the chiming of church bells from all over Fude City washed in from the distance like a tidal wave.

The pitch-black clouds parted as if cleaved by a Giant Axe, and moonlight poured down like water upon the Steam City. Steel, buildings, and green maple trees alike all seemed to be coated in a layer of silver frost.

The wind seemed to shatter against the ornate window along with the moonlight. Yalilan stood before it, kerosene lamp in hand, and looked outside.

The street was deserted. Not a soul in sight. Fallen leaves from the row of trees drifted down onto the long, cobblestone-paved street.

The Fude City First Hunter Association was located at the end of the main road in the central district, an area bustling with ports and workshops. From this vantage point, one could normally see the towering Statue of the First Emperor in the center of Mechanical Plaza.

But now, with the coming of the Day of Regression, a white fog teeming with [Beasts] had surged in from all directions. It completely enveloped the main road, obscuring the statue behind a veil of mist, leaving nothing but a massive shadow cast upon the ground.

Nothing else could be seen.

The roar of a Beast echoed from behind the fog. Yalilan closed the window, put her book away, and returned to her bedroom to get dressed. Afterward, she climbed to the top of the Fude City First Hunter Association’s bell tower.

Someone was already waiting for her—Mr. Stephen. He was dressed in a leather Hunting Outfit, a Silver Sword fastened at his right side. He gave her a slight nod in greeting.

Yalilan nodded back. Then, just as she had hundreds, if not thousands, of times before, she drew her Long Saber and struck the copper bell—the Hunter Association’s signal for the hunt to begin.

The bell rang out, echoing through the city. Instantly, streetlamps that were about to dim flared brightly again. The shadows of the [Beasts] prowling within the fog dwindled and dispersed. Great splashes of blood splattered across the streets, only to be washed away just as quickly.

Countless plumes of Blue Fire, used to burn Demon corpses, lit up the streets and alleys. Beneath the twin moons and the tolling bell, the Demon Hunters became silent predators and began their hunt.

Hunters registered with the First Hunter Association, members of various factions and gangs, and even solitary Demon Hunters—all of them mobilized.

Some did it to earn merits, which they could exchange for medicine or Secret Techniques at the Association.

Others did it because their gangs collected "fog-clearing fees" from local businesses, obligating them to protect the storefronts from [Beasts] and [Demons] as per their agreements.

Yalilan stared intently in one direction, her expression grim.

She was looking toward the Blood Church in the West City District. The Feinan man who had miraculously survived an encounter with a Divine Punishment Monster was there.

’A Blood Faction Demon Hunter...’ she murmured to herself.

’It couldn’t be, could it...?’

————

Baron opened his eyes in bed. Morning had arrived. The twin moons had faded, leaving the Black Moon hanging in the sky alongside the daylight sun.

He glanced at the pendulum clock by his bed and saw that there was still some time before the Hunting Competition began. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

As he felt the stiffness in his limbs, his enhanced sense of smell—a gift from his Dragon Knight and Blood Faction Demon Hunter abilities, now free from the scent of blood—picked up a faint, sour odor.

It was extremely faint, masked by the scent of pine incense in the room, but he caught it nonetheless.

’He suddenly realized that in his two trips across Prole, cutting a bloody, lightning-fast path from Mundra to Fude City, carving out his own legend... he’d never once set foot in a bathroom.’

So he peeled off his underclothes, stiff and dry after being soaked with cold sweat, and hung them on the rack where servants collected laundry.

He then headed for the private bathroom, a standard feature in every room.

Thanks to the rise of the Mechanical School and the subsequent development of the steam engine, every church in every city in Gillian now supposedly had its own steam station. These provided 24-hour hot water, a luxury unheard of in the countryside.

The hot water in the morning was a little lukewarm. Of course, Prole didn’t have modern bathrooms with solar or air-source heat pumps like in his past life, nor did it have any "fine adjustment knobs" for temperature.

The only choices were "lukewarm" and "bone-chillingly cold."

Fortunately, with Baron’s physical constitution, it didn’t matter if the water was hot or cold. A quick rinse was all he needed to wash away his physical and mental fatigue.

After his shower, he got dressed and went out to the main hall. The church, also steamy, was already filled with people led by Nuns in morning prayer.

There were wealthy ladies and gentlemen in expensive attire, as well as old crones in tattered rags and workers in coarse, patched clothing.

Just like the divide between Fude City’s East and West City Districts, they were clearly separated. Some stood in neat rows below the platform with the holy icon, singing a Holy Poem in unison.

Others sat boisterously on the pews, closing their eyes to the sound of the Holy Poem, trying to envision the image of the Blood God and His Divine Envoys.

Even as tears welled in their eyes.

Leading them was the old Nun who had waited for Baron with Olivia the previous night.

The Cultists were orderly under their direction.

When the old Nun saw Baron appear in a corner of the church, she gave him a friendly nod.

Then, standing beneath the swastika-like holy icon, she greeted Baron by mimicking the gesture he had used with her earlier.

Baron froze, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. ’Should I return the gesture? Doing it feels like I’d be mocking her goodwill. But ’failing to raise it’ sounds like an affront to my manhood.’

In the end, he put his palms together and said, "Amitabha."

The old Nun: ?

...

’To get to the dining hall, he had to pass through the main hall of the church. Baron looked at the teary-eyed crowd in the back rows. ’How do these Cultists manage to cry on cue at every prayer without using eyedrops?’ he wondered.

’Even the award-winning actors from his past life who relied on eyedrops probably couldn’t pull this off.’

As he passed a group of people confessing to the Nuns, Baron listened in. Just like in Mundra, he didn’t mean to eavesdrop; it was just his superhuman hearing—a perk of the Dragon Knight Profession—acting up.

’You know how it is. Passive abilities aren’t a conscious choice.’

’Therefore, he probably hadn’t violated the Blood Sect’s doctrine: "Those who eavesdrop on confession will be forever tormented by lies."’

’And if he had, well, Baron wouldn’t mind finding a new religion anyway.’

First, he passed the "West City District" section, populated by high-society ladies.

The noblewomen and young ladies dabbed at their noses with handkerchiefs. They looked as delicate and pitiful as pear blossoms in the rain, their expressions heart-wrenching.

Baron overheard the gist of their confessions. They were mostly about "my husband’s neglect," "my son’s laziness," "the unfairness of wealth," "the temptation of a butler or Demon Hunter with eight-pack abs," and "my own lack of self-control."

’It was the same old story, recycled through history by nobles and merchants alike. On the surface, it was all about a "quest for true, pure, and noble love." In reality, it was the same old sordid affair: the tragic, cuckolded husband and the cheating wife sleeping with the guy next door.’

The only difference was that these stories were less artistically embellished than the ones on the Outer Side.

After all, in a world where Demons, the Dragon Race, and Giants were real, it stood to reason that the heroic warriors who saved lovelorn maidens and lonely wives would also be real, their heroic deeds verifiable.

’A hero saving a damsel, unafraid of death... Baron thought that was pretty awesome. Even if the roles were reversed and it was a beauty saving some good-for-nothing lout, he still found it cool.’

’Isn’t there a saying? Despair is the perfect breeding ground for attachment.’

’It was like back when he was locked up in that courtroom. If, at the exact moment he was sentenced to death, a beautiful girl had descended from the heavens, brandishing a massive cleaver and slaughtering everyone in the courtroom who’d pissed him off, and then just told him to come with her...’

"...and said, ’Everything’s ready. We just need you, the leading man, to make your grand entrance. Oh, and by the way, the final boss is a friendly cameo from your old boss. Since we’re filming for real, you can use all sorts of new weapons to torture...’"

"’—I mean, interrogate your old boss. Come on, the film set’s waiting.’ "

"...then Baron wouldn’t have minded loving her for a lifetime for that single moment."

He passed another noblewoman confessing, "’I love my husband very much, but he’s in charge of the trade caravans and is rarely home. Then, someone else came and filled that emotional void. Spiritually, I just treated this new person as a substitute for my husband.’"

"’I even call out my husband’s name when we’re in bed. Please, Sister, does that count as cheating?’"

He finally reached the "Dongcheng District" section, where the common folk were.