Chapter 70 - 70

Chapter 177: The Workhouse

"Why is Nimrod here?" Klein's eyebrows twitched, and he replied, "Yes, I received a protection mission."

In front of Mike, Klein didn't say much, just asked with a hint of curiosity, "Don't you have anything to do today?"

"Yes, I also received a mission." Nimrod said to Klein, "I'm back to organize the details of the upcoming mission."

Hearing Nimrod's words, Klein nodded noncommittally and continued walking out with Mike: "I understand."

Nimrod's words meant he had information to share with the Church.

Nimrod, with the face of a tall, thin old man, took off his hat, watched Klein and the reporter leave the room, and then walked towards the Detective Agency's study on the second floor.

Dunn Smith was quietly reading some documents in the Detective Agency's study. Seeing Nimrod push open the door after knocking, he raised his gaze and put the papers aside: "Why do you have time to come here today?"

Nimrod looked at Dunn, pulled up a chair from the side, and sat opposite him: "My informant in the Demoness Sect gave me a piece of intelligence, and I hope you can investigate it."

.

"The Demoness Sect's higher-ups seem to have controlled Prince Edessak, the son of George III, possibly interfering with Prince Edessak with 0-108. This could be a strong clue to the cooperation between the royal family and Ince Zangwill."

Upon hearing Nimrod's news, Dunn's eyes widened immediately. Even he, usually so composed, was quite surprised by this information: "Can you confirm it?"

This news for the Nighthawks could be considered a bombshell. It could be said that if the accuracy of this news was confirmed, it would mean that the Church of the Night had found decisive evidence of cooperation between the royal family and the Demoness Sect.

—Although Dunn wasn't overly sensitive to political matters, he could still recognize the seriousness of the situation.

But Dunn reacted in the next moment:

The royal family could completely use an excuse to prevaricate, for example, that Edsac was seduced by a Demoness, which led to the cooperation with the Demoness Sect.

However, in that case, the royal family would also have to cede some benefits, allowing the Church to deal with those implicated with Edsac and those implicated with Ince Zangwill.

"Of course, my informant is that unlucky Demoness who was assigned to Edsac. She has prayed to my Lord multiple times, hoping someone could save her."

Nimrod stood up and tidied his clothes: "Because this involves important members of the royal family, the Church needs to step in for there to be a possibility of resolving it."

If the Church of the Night doesn't care about its Believers and territory, should I, the leader of a cult, fight with the government and

the military's demigods?

The next day, Mike, who had changed into the worker's clothes Klein had prepared, exclaimed, "Sherlock, I think you are truly professional. I'm starting to feel fortunate that I hired you."

Klein smiled and didn't say much: "Of course."

As Klein and Mike got onto the carriage, he quietly grumbled in his heart:

My guess was right, I knew you didn't understand the East Borough—

"How did you arrange the mission? Where should we go next?"

Klein asked considerately, showing professional ethics, while Mike, well-prepared, replied to Klein, "I, um, contacted the Fried Foundation in advance through my connections. They have already established their first Fried Workhouse in the East Borough, taking in a group of homeless vagrants."

"Did you see yesterday's newspaper? Mr. Fried said that for every day the Workhouse is delayed, many lives will be lost in vain, so they began relief efforts as soon as the foundation was built."

"That young lady from the Hall Family also donated an additional sum of money. I heard that amount could turn a poor boy into a rich man."

The carriage clattered along, carrying the two towards the East Borough, leaving only reporter Mike's sigh: "This foundation established by nobles is better than I imagined. I didn't expect the young lady of the Hall Family to be willing to take in those—apologies, my wording might not be accurate—to take in those dirty, pitiful people. I originally thought such a noble lady wouldn't pay attention to the poor."

"Of course, I'm not expressing dissatisfaction with the young lady of the Hall Family. I just feel that even a Count's daughter understands these principles, yet some philanthropists are unwilling to look at the living conditions in the East Borough."

"Actually, I originally wanted to investigate the situation in the East Borough, but I don't have the ability to specifically hire a bodyguard to satisfy my curiosity."

Mike didn't hide the emotions revealed in his words just now, pausing: "I originally only thought that the Baron from Fried Company had excellent investment acumen, but I didn't expect his charitable work to be very practical for those vagrants—perhaps one aid could save a poor person's life. This really doesn't sound like something a noble would say."

"I really wish I knew what kind of person he usually is."

In reality, yearning is the furthest distance—listening to Mike's heartfelt sigh, Klein thought to himself:

If you knew that the tall, thin old detective you met yesterday was actually Mr. Fried, whom you wish to meet, what would you think?

Soon, the carriage reached the edge of the East Borough.

The taxi carriage stopped when they approached the East Borough. Even if Mike wanted to pay extra for the coachman to take them closer to the Fried Foundation's Workhouse, the coachman was unwilling to enter the East Borough.

In the East Borough, taxi carriages are extremely susceptible to robbery. Once a problem occurs, the coachman would find it difficult to compensate the company for its losses, quickly accumulating huge debts and compensation, losing their job, and falling into the ranks of the jobless vagrants.

Mike shrugged, helplessly getting out of the taxi carriage and saying to Klein beside him, "The Fried Foundation's Workhouse is located near the suburbs. Aren't they afraid of being robbed?"

"It might be a long walk from here, I hope we don't encounter any dangers on the way."

You mean let a group of gangsters and hooligans rob the Aurora Order's lunatics? Although the members of the Aurora Order have become somewhat normal and rational to a certain extent now, I still know that they are essentially still abnormal—Klein just smiled: "Perhaps they have prepared security forces; after all, this is a noble's property."

"Moreover, the environment in the suburbs is better than inside the East Borough, and perhaps the land is cheaper."

If anyone really dared to rob the Aurora Order's property, they would probably be brought to the True Creator's sacrificial altar, either as offerings or as Believers—

As for why Believers are also described as

Mr. L of the Aurora Order also made a statement about this, saying it was not a rumor. The Aurora Order's mental health now fully relies on the True Creator's divinity separated outside. Once the True Creator's divine avatar responsible for responding to them is destroyed, they will become insane again.

Mike didn't know anything about the True Creator, he just felt that Klein in front of him was implying certain nobles who profited from charity, and immediately nodded in agreement: "You're quite right."

As a reporter, Mike knew the true nature of most nobles too well.

Klein lowered his head, and with Mike, disguised themselves as the people of the surrounding East Borough, burying their heads and walking quickly into the distance—the two passed through continuous dilapidated houses, stepped over streets piled with filth, and crossed the bodies of vagrants lying precariously on the street.

Some had even become forgotten corpses, waiting for the police to discover them.

After walking for a long time, the surrounding buildings gradually thinned out, and a Workhouse, appearing somewhat out of place and seemingly converted from old buildings, appeared before their eyes.

The entire building seemed to have been converted from old factory workshops and two adjacent three-story buildings. Some iron frames familiar to Klein were stacked aside, seemingly unused construction materials.

Thick waterproof tarpaulins covered these iron frames, and several people dressed in mercenary attire patrolled cautiously around. They all looked quite good, which for Klein was the most obvious identifying mark:

Believers of the True Creator might not be exceptionally handsome, but they would never be ugly.

This was the Aurora Order's persistent pursuit of "being close to the most ancient humans."

Klein vaguely noticed a sense of danger in the surrounding shadows and couldn't help but feel a touch of helplessness—was the True Creator Believers' execution power a bit too strong?

This foundation even had a Sequence 7 Shadow Ascetic to provide protection? Of course, it could also be the general manager here—

As the two approached, a young man emerged from a room near the door in the three-story building of the Workhouse. The young man's face still seemed a bit childish, and his clothes weren't too good, clearly showing their cheapness.

"Excuse me—are you Mr. Mike?" The staff member asked the two, and Klein also observed the staff member in front of him, a hint of emotion rising in his heart:

He looks like a student—

Klein had seen this scholarly air on his former

Mike nodded, took out his press card, and said to the staff member, "Yes."

The staff member briefly confirmed Mike's credentials, carefully returned them to Mike, and while leading the two into the two tall factory buildings, explained the situation to Mike: "Um, Mr. Fried specifically instructed us on precautions yesterday. He welcomes reporters for interviews but hopes you report the most truthful situation of the foundation."

Mike glanced at the somewhat peeling walls and simple decorations around him, then thoughtfully replied, "Is Fried Company worried that we'll slander the foundation's Workhouse?"

The staff member replied with a hint of helplessness, "You also know that many reporters make things up to fabricate news, which is not a good thing for us—"

Mike nodded gently: "Don't worry, I will collect information here and report it truthfully. You can trust my professional integrity."

The staff member breathed a sigh of relief and continued leading Mike and Klein deeper into the Workhouse building: "That's good—"

As expected, he's an inexperienced student—I wouldn't even trust a reporter's promise, after all, who in this new media era doesn't know the three elements of news are taking things out of context, distorting meaning, and creating conflict—Klein had just sighed inwardly when he noticed Mike's serious expression beside him.

Could it be that I'm thinking too darkly? Klein was slightly shocked, unsure for a moment whether it was because reporters of this era had professional ethics or because Mike was a good person.

Entering the corridor, the wooden doors on both sides had been renovated, and even before turning the corner, the clamor from within could be heard—this was the dormitory of the Workhouse.

For a moment, Klein suddenly felt like he was back in the days when he secretly investigated the East Borough. But just as they turned the corner, Klein and Mike noticed an open room nearby. This room seemed much larger, with several Doctors in medical attire busy inside, and several pale, emaciated people lying on beds next to them.

Mike asked the staff member with some surprise, "What is this?"

The staff member turned around and replied, "The infirmary. Some vagrants were brought in barely clinging to life, so Mr. Fried urgently brought in some Doctors and Apothecaries—at the very least, to save their lives."

He sighed: "Although only the most basic medicines can be provided, it's enough. In fact, most vagrants don't have fatal diseases. Most of them collapse from extreme hunger, but in Loen at night—collapsing basically means death."

Mike instinctively pressed, "They don't have diseases?"

The staff member, who had a student-like demeanor, gave a helpless dry laugh: "Those vagrants suffering from diseases don't last long enough to enter the Workhouse."

Mike fell silent instantly.

Klein didn't join the conversation, merely looking thoughtfully at the open door, wanting to see the scene inside, but then he suddenly froze:

Why did he feel—that one Doctor, wearing a mask and a hat, looked somewhat familiar?

Although it was only the details between his eyebrows and eyes, this was enough for Klein, who was once a Clown, to guess the Doctor's identity.

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#178Chapter 178 Old Kohler

Chapter 178: Old Kohler

"Miss 'Justice'?"

The name Audrey Hall immediately sprang into Klein's mind. He instinctively raised an eyebrow and continued walking forward without revealing any emotion.

Is she helping these people with simple psychological therapy? Hmm—I'm not surprised that a "Telepathist" would learn knowledge related to psychology, but is it to digest the potion?

Klein thought of the subsequent Sequence of "Telepathist," "Psychiatrist"!

It seemed the information Nimrod spread at the Tarot Club had indeed given this noble lady, who possessed a sense of Justice, a feeling of urgency and powerlessness, making her want to digest her potion and advance as quickly as possible.

Thinking of the impending disaster in Backlund and the apocalypse in the prophecy, perhaps influenced by the atmosphere here, Klein's mood suddenly turned sour.

The staff member with a student-like air led them to an empty room and introduced it to the two of them: "This is an unoccupied room where no one will disturb you. You can conduct your interview here later."

"We don't have a dedicated reception room yet—ahem, I'll bring the interviewee over."

After saying that, the staff member walked out the door and left the room, leaving Mike and Klein inside.

Looking at the room that could be described as "four bare walls," Mike didn't care much. He just said to Klein casually in a conversational tone, "I wonder how they persuaded those people to accept the interview—"

Klein recalled what he had seen along the way and touched his chin, which he had deliberately left with stubble: "I noticed just now that some of the relief recipients in the rooms were still doing some work. Perhaps accepting an interview from a reporter counts as volunteer work? I'm not quite sure how this Workhouse operates, but an easy interview is certainly more acceptable than physical labor."

"Well, if Mr. Fried is confident in his Workhouse, he should also hope that other newspapers will report on what's happening here."

Volunteer work was a regular activity in many Workhouses, but it often failed to make ends meet.

"That's true. In many Workhouses, ha, the wealthy donors usually don't get involved in the specific management. Much of the income from those loss-making volunteer activities is pocketed by the managers." Mike shook his head: "However, I don't think this staff member is like the Workhouse managers I've seen. He's a bit too—'unprofessional'."

Mike's tone was already quite tactful.

Klein smiled and said to Mike, "I guess he's also one of the 'aided'."

Klein knew this kind of thing all too well. Whether it was from "Klein's" experiences or "Zhou Mingrui's" before he transmigrated, he knew about this "work-study" style of operation.

These young people who were literate but hadn't graduated and couldn't find suitable jobs were very cheap to hire, and the workload wasn't too heavy. They could even have extra time to complete their studies outside of work—roughly equivalent to those "clear-eyed" college students sitting in security booths studying for civil service exams.

Mike thoughtfully took out a notebook and pen from his breast pocket and began scribbling down the information he had just exchanged with Klein: "I see—"

Soon, the door to the room was pushed open again. The staff member brought in a middle-aged to elderly man whose face still bore a look of exhaustion. The man was wearing a thick jacket, his temples were graying, and he looked to be about forty or fifty years old.

There was a clear look of fatigue on his face, but the warm firelight masked his pale complexion, making him look passably healthy.

Klein had seen many people like this in the East Borough. Most were vagrants driven away by the police. Due to the cold weather and terrible living conditions in the Kingdom of Loen, their physical health was often very poor.

"I need to sit in on your interview." The staff member pulled out a chair. "I trust your professional ethics, but I must ensure you don't use verbal tricks to mislead our aided interviewees."

"A reasonable request." Mike nodded, not stopping him.

Mike watched the staff member lead the middle-aged man to sit opposite him and signaled that the man could speak: "Tell me about your situation. I'd like to know your experience, such as how you became a vagrant and how you ended up here."

"If possible, I'd also like to know your name to use as an example in the report. Of course, I will give you extra compensation."

"No, no, no, I don't need extra compensation. You, you can just call me Old Kohler." The man waved his hands hurriedly. He thought for a moment and gave a bitter smile: "Actually, two days ago, I almost died."

Mike was stunned, clearly not expecting such a result: "Hmm?"

Old Kohler seemed to be recalling his experience from two days ago. He narrowed his eyes slightly: "I can't remember the situation from two days ago clearly either. In fact, I'm still doubting whether that experience was a dream."

"I hadn't eaten for several days in a row. I was so hungry, so hungry. You have to know, no one is willing to hire someone who looks like they have no strength."

"I could only pick up things others didn't want to eat, but it didn't help. I still couldn't hold on and collapsed by the roadside. I thought I was going to die."

"I wanted to crawl up, but I was in a daze the whole time. After a while, I felt someone pick me up. By the time I woke up again, I was already lying in a hospital bed here."

"Later I found out that for those few days, there were strange guys carrying vagrants off the streets to the Workhouse. I was lucky and was rescued by them when I was unconscious—other Workhouses aren't like this. This Workhouse is too strange."

""

His tone became rambling.

"I, I used to be a good worker. I had a wife and children, but a contagious disease took them away. I used to be a good worker, but after I got sick, I couldn't find a job anymore—"

Klein saw Mike writing furiously and noticed Mike's expression becoming somewhat somber. He nodded and asked the second question on Mike's behalf: "Tell us about your recent situation, especially after coming to the Workhouse."

Klein could visibly notice the staff member next to him becoming a bit nervous. He shook his head imperceptibly, and some chaotic thoughts surfaced in his mind.

Klein guessed that most of the experience Old Kohler had just told him was true, while some of it might have been Illusions produced while he was in a semi-conscious state.

Considering the durability of the Aurora Order Believers, those "strange people" carrying people all over the streets were undoubtedly members of the Aurora Order. Thinking of this, Klein couldn't help but sigh in his heart:

Now that the True Creator's "madness" was temporarily suppressed, even the Aurora Order was much more useful than the Loen government—

Old Kohler nodded and answered Klein's question: "After I recovered, someone gave me food and medicine, and asked if there was anything I was good at—"

"Lord, other Workhouses have never had such a situation. We have to have very good luck to enter a Workhouse and rest for a few days!"

Old Kohler paused, and a hint of pride inexplicably surged in his tone: "I can make shoes. I really was a very good shoemaker once—they were willing to take me in and let me work here. They even signed a contract with me and will let me work in their factory later!"

"Maybe, maybe I won't have to wander outside anymore!"

"But doesn't this violate the New Poor—no, never mind." Mike shook his head gently: "While you were here, did you see anyone come to cause trouble? Or did any police come here?"

Old Kohler hesitated and glanced at the Workhouse staff member next to him: "I think there were—"

"But they didn't affect the inside of the Workhouse. It was settled outside—"

Was the problem settled, or was the person who raised the problem settled? The corners of Klein's mouth twitched slightly, thinking that the Aurora Order was indeed capable of such things.

Mike nodded slightly: "Next question—"

"—Say, has this Workhouse really not violated the new poor law?"

Mike asked Klein beside him with some uncertainty. His notebook was already covered in densely written words.

The "new poor law" was proposed and gradually implemented along with bills like the "Corn Laws." The "new poor law" required that living conditions in Workhouses must be worse than those of the poorest independent laborers, and there were many harsh requirements. It was not a good thing for vagrants.

"The Fried Foundation's Workhouse doesn't directly provide work for these vagrants." Klein's tone had no emotional fluctuations: "I guess the person who contacted Old Kohler wasn't a staff member of the Fried Foundation, but someone from other industries of the Fried Company. This counts as exploiting a loophole."

"From the few people interviewed just now, this seems to be a common phenomenon. Heh, I expect it won't be long before people from other foundations come, probably using reasons like 'abusing the aided' or 'forcing the aided to work'—"

—

Klein curled his lips, his tone sounding somewhat mocking.

"What heartless reasons, yet they are legal and compliant. I can't even find an angle to attack them." Mike sighed: "Let's continue the interviews. Sigh, only now do I feel that I know too little about the situation in the East Borough—this is my investigative interview plan. Can you help me see if there are any problems?"

Klein carefully looked at the paper Mike handed him: "There's no need to conduct interviews with East Borough residents of different age groups. It's too troublesome and might not be useful."

"I suggest you divide it by location. Better apartments, apartments where many people squeeze into one room, street corners, park benches, as well as bars and Workhouses."

Speaking of this, Klein paused: "Although you just investigated the Fried Foundation's Workhouse, I think it's better for you to investigate other Workhouses as well—the Fried Foundation's Workhouse gave me a different feeling from the others."

Although Klein wasn't clear about the situation in other Workhouses, he knew that the Fried Foundation's Workhouse might have adopted some experiences from the country where he lived before transmigrating.

He looked back at the now blurred building behind him and let out a soft breath: "When I have the potential to become a demigod, I must use the power of the Church to push for the amendment of these abnormal laws—"

A tall, thin figure strolled through the streets of the East Borough. In late autumn Backlund, a cold rain was falling, seemingly trying to freeze everyone to the marrow.

Those places at the street corners that could provide shelter from the wind were already crowded with bodies of all sizes. They clung desperately and lifelessly to the spots that could block the rain, doing their best to keep themselves from being soaked by the droplets in this freezing rain.

Accompanied by the rain was rapid hypothermia. The rain would take away the body heat of the vagrants, and they would turn into crowded corpses on the ground even before the next day.

The implementation of a law, the spread of a disease, the loss of a life.

"What do you think of this place, Grisha?"

The tall, thin old man held a pitch-black umbrella. His trench coat was also black, as if he were in silent mourning.

Nimrod, wearing the face of "James Holmes," always carried a seemingly normal lantern.

The flickering flame in the lantern wavered for a moment. The True Creator did not reply to Nimrod, seemingly waiting for his subsequent words.

Nimrod didn't mind. He just continued to walk forward on the muddy ground: "This is the Abyss on earth."

"People who know the truth always like to attribute the worst situations to the influence of Outer Deities, but for a vagrant, a policeman who evicts them is no different from an Outer Deity—the final outcome is death."

The True Creator remained silent: "You seem very dissatisfied with this place. Is it with the gods, or with Earth?"

"This place has completely lost the possibility of change. The gods hold their anchors in their hands, using them as bargaining chips for each other's trades." Nimrod didn't answer the question directly, but glanced at the True Creator: "I can understand that the influence of God Almighty is too deep and the consciousness of the Outer Deities is too terrifying, making the gods either unwilling or unable to become Outer Deities. But the Outer Deities outside the barrier are equally terrifying. Are they going to continue to cower within this barrier, heart-blind and eye-blind?"

"A change is needed here."

"I don't think you mind acting as the guide for this change, right, Grisha?"

Nimrod smiled and took out a Sun-like sickle from his breast pocket.

The patterns on the sickle lit up, and the light and heat dispelled the cold of the rainy night, drawing the gazes of the vagrants huddled in the alley.

It was as if they had seen the Sun.

"Do you wish to live?"

The tall, thin figure placed the lantern on the ground, holding the semi-circular sickle: "Please give me a moment of your time. Let me introduce you to the Omnipotent and Omniscient God, the Lord who created all things—"

Chapter 179: Acquaintance

The next day, Mike arrived at the Tingen Squad's Detective Agency once again to continue the planned investigation with Klein.

Mike's investigation was set to last for three days. Since reliable detectives were hard to find lately, he offered a payment of 14 pounds. Klein, of course, accepted with pleasure—under normal circumstances, such a commission would be at most around 10 pounds, so it was now at a premium of nearly fifty percent.

Klein and Mike took a carriage toward the "East Byron Dock," heading for the Dockworkers' Association.

Yesterday, Mike had successfully completed his basic interviews and preliminary investigation records. After applying to the newspaper, Mike had made up his mind to interview the dockworkers to obtain first-hand information.

After all, with so many reporters investigating the situation in East Borough, how could their daily newspaper sell well without news that could garner widespread attention?

Although the sales figures were just cold numbers to Mike, the bonuses he received were warm gold pounds.

Naturally, to avoid offending any big shots, Mike had also applied for permission from the editor-in-chief.

Soon, the two arrived at East Byron Dock.

A fresh sea breeze reached their noses. Although the iconic, terrible smell of Backlund's air still lingered in their nasal passages, the sea breeze managed to dilute the scent, making Klein feel somewhat refreshed for a moment.

This is air humans can actually breathe! Environmental protection was also an urgent matter here—Klein grumbled inwardly as he looked at the two-story building before him.

Pushing open the door, Klein scanned the interior layout of the Dockworkers' Guild.

The layout here was quite simple, with no reception lady or wide hall; the whole place exuded a sense of unadorned poverty.

The stairs leading to the second floor were in the center, with corridors lined with offices on both sides. The floor was made of plain cement—this immediately gave Klein and Mike a feeling similar to when they visited the Fried Workhouse yesterday.

"I almost thought this was opened by the Fried Foundation too," Mike murmured to Klein with a sigh. "I really hope we don't get kicked out—"

Klein raised his eyebrows slightly, keenly capturing the hidden meaning in Mike's words: "The guild doesn't welcome reporters coming to interview them?"

Mike nodded gloomily; he had become increasingly silent since he started recording the living conditions of the people in East Borough yesterday. "Most reporters come here to report on strikes."

Although Mike only said that one sentence, Klein immediately understood his meaning, and his expression also turned somber.

Mike spoke to the man guarding the door, intending to negotiate: "Hello, I am a reporter from the Daily Observer. I hope to interview your staff to understand your demands and desires."

The man's reaction was quite strong, and he immediately became wary: "We haven't organized any strikes recently! Many people have come to ask these past two days, but we haven't organized any strikes!"

"Don't come asking anymore!"

Mike hadn't expected the man's reaction to be so intense, and he was momentarily stunned.

Klein, however, guessed why the man reacted so strongly: for them, if they wanted to fight for their necessary interests, "striking" was the only way, but strikes were always broken or bought off by nobles or factory owners—

If reported by journalists, they might encounter further difficulties or even imprisonment.

However, Klein noticed the information contained within the extremely tense man's words, and his heart stirred.

It seemed that it wasn't just the Fried Company that had organized reporters to conduct investigations—

Did so many reporters preparing to enter East Borough for investigations touch the fragile nerves of certain factory owners?

Perhaps they also wanted to know if the newly established Fried Company Foundation intended to use this excuse to acquire their factories and properties at low prices?

Or was Nimrod planning to use this interview mission to fish for targets who could serve as goals for his potion digestion?

He had mentioned that his Sequence 5 potion was called "Dream Stealer." Hiss, the "Error" Pathway really involves stealing at every Sequence—from stealing items to stealing Beyonder abilities and even stealing dreams. What else would he be able to steal in the future?

What kind of bizarre abilities would that high-Sequence powerhouse of the "Error" Pathway he mentioned, Amon, possess?

Klein's thoughts wandered for a moment, but seeing the man's expression grow increasingly unfriendly, he sighed softly and spoke to the man in a sincere tone: "I think you've misunderstood."

"I, and my colleague, are people who sympathize with you. The newspaper we work for plans to do a special report describing what the guild does to help workers and the actual difficulties you face."

"We already investigated many places yesterday. If you don't believe me, I can show you the interview records in my colleague's hands."

"This might be able to help you."

The man hesitated for a while but was ultimately persuaded by Klein, who maintained his "Clown" Beyonder ability to control his expression. "Really?... Alright then, go find Mr. Lande. He's our Publicity Committee Member. Turn right, second office on the right."

Klein smiled at Mike, who was still lost in thought beside him. "Let's go, Mike. Let's finish the interview at the Dockworkers' Guild as soon as possible and move on to the next place."

Mike snapped out of it, nodded, and turned into the right corridor with Klein. Only after rounding the corner did he whisper to Klein, "Moriarty, thanks to you."

The cement walls exuded a sense of shabbiness, and Mike even felt a trace of admiration for the people who still formed a guild here.

"It was part of my job."

Klein didn't say much, but Mike shook his head. "No, this interview could be very important. If we can get this interview, I might be able to... If there's a chance, I'll introduce you to a few of my friends. They might also need an excellent detective."

"Although I don't know your reasoning abilities yet, judging by your other skills, they likely aren't bad."

Am I considered an excellent detective? Well, skipping the reasoning process and getting the answer through divination counts as a kind of reasoning—with a smile on his lips, Klein arrived at the second office.

The door to the second office was open. A man in a formal suit sat opposite a man with thinning hair—this man with thinning hair was likely Mr. Lande.

At this moment, Mr. Lande was speaking enthusiastically to the man in the suit.

Klein's pupils contracted slightly, and he quickly identified the man with the strangely beautiful face. He was Nimrod's attendant, another Oracle of the Aurora Order—

Mr. A!

What was he doing here?

Had the Aurora Order's preaching reached even here?

Late at night, reports sent by the reporters were delivered to Nimrod's desk by his butler. He spent a considerable amount of time reading through them, gaining a general understanding of the current situation in East Borough.

The current East Borough had quite a messy mix of beliefs—the Theosophy Order and the Demoness Sect had placed many eyes there, even arranging for several Witches to digest potions and draw attention in East Borough.

Meanwhile, the missionaries of the Aurora Order walked through the hidden alleys, spreading the glory of the Lord. The "Shadow Ascetic" ability was naturally suited for walking in the shadows, and they brought the destitute poor some

food.

Every missionary of the Aurora Order was a master of insight into the human heart. Although it was difficult to achieve the level of a "Spectator" who could completely see through someone, they could perceive the fallen nature burning within the chests of those poor and homeless people.

The industrial age was a hotbed for evil gods, whether due to the despair and pain generated in the hearts of these poor people or simply because of their existence.

The most ironic point was that Roselle, who once said, "The industrial age I personally pioneered has actually turned into a hotbed for breeding evil gods," could now be considered an out-and-out evil god himself.

The Beyonders of the Church of Storms certainly had a keen sense of smell; they had discovered that the faith of the True Creator was spreading within Backlund. However, there were only so many Beyonders, and they couldn't account for all the Believers of the True Creator.

Before Nimrod arrived in Backlund, the Aurora Order in Backlund was equipped with Mr. A, a "Shepherd," and more than five "Shadow Ascetics"—this level of staffing was far beyond the norm for a standard "Mandated Punisher" squad.

As for the Demoness Sect—the reputation of the Aurora Order's madmen was still useful. Although the "Despair Nightingale" was currently only pretending to cooperate with Mr. A, she was also happy to push the Aurora Order to the forefront, letting them draw the fire of the "Lord of Storms."

Thus, with someone already taking the blame, the Demoness Sect could naturally do as they pleased without restraint, waiting for the "Demoness of Undying" of the sect to arrive, and then attempt to assassinate the Archbishop of the Church of the Night in Backlund, Anthony Stevenson.

—But "Despair Nightingale" didn't realize that the "Saint" of the Aurora Order was gradually fading from view.

Several papers filled with interview reports were picked out by Nimrod and placed before him. The information separated by the "Cryptologist" flickered before his eyes, seemingly forming a vast woven web.

Nimrod whispered softly, the corners of his mouth curling slightly: "Found it—"

Within these interviews that involved no Beyonders or supernatural events, the traces of the Demoness Sect were emerging.

A showgirl, a disease, a brawl.

The disappearance of a tramp, the outbreak of an infectious disease, an occult sacrifice.

—A Demoness stronghold.

Nimrod took out a piece of paper from the side, pulled out a quill, and scribbled a line of Loen words on it:

Whistleblower Letter.

He intended to hand all these matters over to the Church of the Night, acting as a concerned citizen of Backlund.

After handing Prince Edessak's matter over to Dunn, he had reached a consensus with Dunn: he would resolve the issues with the wealthy individuals cooperating with the Demoness Sect—the Church of the Night would maintain a tacit approval, much like how the military Beyonders cooperated with those human traffickers.

As long as no methods like assassination were used, the Church could support the Fried Company to a certain extent—allowing them to do things that were slightly "over the line."

Aside from the Church of the Night, which knew "Dionysus" was "Mr. L," no one knew that the Aurora Order was behind the Fried Company; and the Demoness Sect currently only knew that the Aurora Order was frantically retaliating against Ince Zangwill because he had utilized the Aurora Order's "Lord."

In the eyes of the Demoness Sect, it wasn't too hard to imagine that the madmen of the Aurora Order would have their Saints come out in full force to kill Ince Zangwill. Naturally, they wouldn't warn the military they cooperated with to "be careful of the Aurora Order"—and such things.

After all, the military also intended to let the Aurora Order draw the attention of the "Church of Storms" for them, not to mention whether the wealthy individuals cooperating with the military could even know about this.

Therefore, these wealthy individuals would find it hard to understand until their deaths why they were being squeezed out by the Fried Company, step by step toward the brink of bankruptcy—if they continued human trafficking, their finances might not have temporary problems, but the Nighthawks of the Church of the Night would also spare no effort in cracking down on these illicit industries.

For Nimrod, this was also an excellent opportunity to act as a "Dream Stealer." Acting out the role of stealing dreams required taking the initiative to induce others, which fit the true meaning of "stealing."

Nimrod finished writing the Whistleblower Letter, sealed it, and casually tossed it to his messenger, letting them mail these letters to Anthony Stevenson—although Nimrod knew such English names were often repeated, hearing the name of Archbishop Anthony still made him inexplicably think of a certain master of Psychological Invisibility.

Just then, there was a knock on Nimrod's door, and a figure walked in, nodding respectfully to Nimrod.

Mr. A was practically a model employee of the Aurora Order; he never slacked off, whether it was preaching or handling the Order's internal affairs. Under Medici's training, he had made significant progress, allowing the Believers of the True Creator to hide even more discreetly in East Borough.

"Saint."

Mr. A stood still in front of Nimrod: "My subordinates received a mission, and they aren't sure if it can be accepted—so I've come to ask for your opinion."

Nimrod nodded slightly. He knew who the "subordinates" Mr. A mentioned were—the Beyonder gathering Mr. A originally managed still existed, and with the help of the "Butler" who had recently been promoted, several new small gatherings had been developed.

Members of the Aurora Order had informants in these small gatherings, allowing them to take on missions, including but not limited to assassinations, through these gatherings.

"What mission?"

"An assassination mission, to kill a Sequence 5 Beyonder and his followers." Mr. A briefly described the mission: "The target is a 'Wraith' from the Rose School of Thought."

>

O

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#180Chapter 180 [The World] Mr.

Chapter 180: Mr. [World]

Chapter 180: Mr. [World]

"We have no retreat now."

A low male voice sounded. The surroundings were dim, and in front of the man was only a mirror. In the mirror was a pale face with a hint of madness, and deep insanity was suppressed in his brown eyes.

His tone was not too fast, as if every word was suppressing his emotions: "We can only hope that the organizer of that Beyonder gathering can accept our commission, otherwise Steve, who is carrying the crimson moon crown, will catch up to us, and the demigod we lured away might also find us."

"Time is really running out. I even suspect that demigod has already discovered that the clue we used to lure him away was false."

A shadow appeared in the mirror, revealing a delicate face like a doll. Sharon, dressed in a black court gown, glanced at Maric and nodded lightly.

"Two Rose School of Thought members want your help?"

Nimrod searched his memories for any Rose School of Thought members who had approached the Aurora Order and hadn't been diced into mincemeat. He quickly got a result: "Members of the Temperance Faction?"

Sharon and Maric, members of the Temperance Faction? Why would they approach the Aurora Order, which in the eyes of the outside world is still engaged in bloody sacrifices and mad worship?

——No, they probably aren't too clear about the Aurora Order's situation. They might have just found Mr. A through some Beyonder gathering involving information about the Rose School of Thought, hoping to exchange aid for money or Beyonder materials.

After all, the Aurora Order is currently working to eliminate members of evil god cults and has issued corresponding tasks in various Beyonder gatherings, which even led some wild Beyonders to wonder if this was a task set by the Churches to bait them.

Mr. A nodded, without much thought: "They probably don't know that we are servants of the Lord, shepherds of the Lord. They just think that behind the Beyonder gathering I newly organized is a secret organization with powerful individuals."

Nimrod gently nodded and replied to Mr. A: "We can accept this task. The Temperance Faction members are probably dealing with the Indulgence Faction members who are hunting them. The Indulgence Faction members are Believers of evil gods, and they are targets we need to clear out."

"However, although I probably don't need to specifically remind you, I still have to say — you still need to charge the normal price."

Seeing Mr. A's expression of "Oh, so I can get paid for clearing out evil god Believers," Nimrod knew he had reminded him correctly and felt that the transformation of the Aurora Order still had a long way to go. He shook his head and added: "In this mission, you might encounter a demigod from the Rose School of Thought. It's better to be cautious.

At that time, I will also join this hunt —"

Nimrod paused: "And I will ask the Saint of Secrets for help in advance. The Saint of Secrets' power can at least ensure our safe retreat."

"Remember, you are earning resources for your compatriots. This is not shameful; on the contrary, it is glorious. Besides, I will introduce someone to act with us."

Mr. A asked in confusion: "Who?"

Nimrod smiled and took out a letter from beside him: "A Magician, the current owner of the creeping hunger."

"I'll write you a letter, and then give you the corresponding contact information. You can contact him yourself then."

O

Mr. A nodded, though a bit confused: "Understood."

"?"

Klein looked at the letter delivered to him, finding it difficult to understand the meaning of Nimrod's letter.

What did he mean by, I've found you an opportunity to act as a Magician?

Klein could understand that sentence, but the next one left him a bit baffled:

What did he mean by, we might have to fight a demigod this time?

Me?

——

Klein patiently continued reading the letter, gradually understanding Nimrod's intentions.

Mr. A of the Aurora Order received a mission to hunt down members of the Rose School of Thought. Among the hunted enemies were a Sequence 5 Wraith holding a beyonder item that countered the Prisoner Pathway Beyonders, a Zombie, and a Werewolf.

Since this matter involved some abnormal evil gods, and there might be a true demigod behind the target, Nimrod hoped that Klein, as an external helper, would assist Mr. A in completing this hunt to quickly digest the Magician potion.

In other words, this counted as an "out-of-office assignment"? This is what it feels like to have connections — it's just a bit difficult. Klein thoughtfully folded the letter, rubbed his fingers lightly, and ignited it.

He cautiously assessed his current combat strength. With the Magician's life-saving abilities and the creeping hunger's close-to-Sequence 5 direct combat capabilities, Klein believed he at least had the ability not to be instantly killed.

Most importantly, Nimrod also mentioned in the letter that the Saint of Secrets' abilities would provide a safety net for this operation; a demigod-level Door Pathway ability would be enough for them to retreat safely.

What truly tempted Klein was that this was an opportunity to actively come into contact with a demigod level, with a certain degree of assurance. Under Ince Zangwill's arrangements, the Tingen Squad members would definitely encounter Ince Zangwill in Backlund —

By then, Klein didn't believe Ince Zangwill wouldn't use some methods to draw away the Church of the Night's powerhouses. At that point, the Tingen Squad and a limited number of powerful Beyonders — such as Deacon Crestet — would need to face the enemy directly.

Nighthawks are guardians who stand on the dangerous edge of Darkness, not flowers in a greenhouse!

Recalling his helplessness in front of the evil god's favored ones when he was in Tingen, Klein pursed his lips, his heart suddenly firm. Then he took four counter-clockwise steps and went Above the Gray Fog to divine the outcome of this operation.

This was a necessary act of prudence.

If the divination result was very bad, he would not only directly abandon this operation but also dissuade Nimrod from giving up this mission.

After receiving the divination result, Klein's expression had returned to calm.

He had already acted as a Magician multiple times before accepting Mike's commission, and had summarized the acting principle of a Magician as requiring "active performance." His mind suddenly became active.

"The time is tomorrow night — it just happens to avoid overlapping with the commission to protect Mike —"

"I hope Mr. Azik's Seal can work —"

Klein mumbled, beginning to prepare the items needed for this mission.

A Magician never performs without preparation!

After completing Mike's commission, Klein politely declined Mike's dinner invitation and quickly returned to the Detective Agency to change his disguise after accepting the commission.

This cost him 2 pounds.

Klein felt a slight pang of heartache, as this was considered a "side job" and clearly couldn't be reimbursed by the captain.

However, Klein quickly adjusted his mood. He stood by the window, checking his belongings one last time:

Several boxes of matches, cut paper figures, a newly bought full deck of tarot cards —

He chuckled softly, and the creeping hunger on his hand flickered: "Tonight, Gehrman joins the hunt."

Leonard is currently out on a mission, and Captain Dunn and Ms. Daly digest their potions every night — the advantage is mine!

Klein cautiously confirmed that no one was paying attention to him, quickly turned off the light, and with a sense of ritual, spread his arms and deftly flipped out of the window.

On the other side of the street, Leonard, who had also completed his protection commission, was stretching his muscles with his hands behind his back. But at that moment, he looked up, and a figure was reflected in his emerald eyes. He stared blankly at the figure: "Old man, is that...?"

An aged voice rang in Leonard's ear: "That should be your colleague, hmm — this isn't a Beyonder ability a Sequence 7 should have."

"Heh heh, it seems each of you has quite a few secrets —"

Pallez Zoroast's voice had become leisurely. Lying inside Leonard, he felt that he had never been in such good condition for the past two thousand years.

Having latched onto the thigh of a true god, and with an ancient existence reviving within Amon beside him — Pales even felt that he could just throw away the hot potato that was the Worm of Time and let Amon and the mystery contend for it.

Leonard stood silently in place for a while. Only when Pales began to urge him did he suddenly turn around and walk into the Darkness.

"Boy, what are you going to do? Not going back?" Pales's tone carried obvious amusement.

"Not going back!"

Leonard walked quickly outwards, adding: "I'm going to digest my potion!"

Meanwhile, at the West Bairong Dockyard.

Klein stepped on the dark brown mud and walked into the abandoned building. The buildings here were gloomy and dilapidated, abandoned for a year, giving Klein the feeling that ghosts and Monsters could appear at any moment.

In a while, this place might undergo renovation, but for now, no one frequented it — in Klein's opinion, this was a good place for combat.

As Klein walked, he casually threw some matches around, feeling for a moment like he was strolling through a horror movie set.

"Heh heh, Beyonders who have drunk potions are, in a sense, also Monsters —" Klein mocked himself inwardly, gradually entering his acting state.

At this moment, Klein's face wore gold-rimmed glasses, and his expression was cold, giving him a cool and handsome appearance.

This was the new persona, "World," created using the Faceless characteristic from the creeping hunger!

Klein had already thought of a name and identity for this persona. This persona would be the Fool's favored one walking on the earth, a stepping stone for communicating with other Tarot Club members.

Facing a demigod already carried a certain risk. If he still used the identities of Klein Moretti or Sherlock Moriarty, he might even be seen by the "0-08" controlled by Ince Zangwill, and the consequences would be unimaginable.

A faint light flickered about fifty meters away. Klein walked steadily into it, carefully surveying the surroundings:

This was an abandoned warehouse. Nimrod, with Amon's face, and Mr. A, clad in a black robe, sat there silently. In the corner of the warehouse sat a man in a rather mysterious black robe.

He wore no hood, his brown hair was slightly curly, and his eyes were deep — Klein quickly recalled the knowledge he had learned during his Red Gloves training and soon identified the man: Botis, the Saint of Secrets!

Under the dim light, Klein's lips moved almost imperceptibly:

These three don't look like good people at all.

Ahem, my attire's style is quite similar to theirs, though —

Klein's steps only paused slightly before he walked into the warehouse. Mr. A and the Saint of Secrets both looked at Klein in unison. The Saint of Secrets' gaze was profound, and Mr. A's eyes even faintly glowed with a hint of blood.

Klein, enduring the oppressive gazes of the two, walked up to them with a taut face, feeling a subtle sense of potion digestion with each step — and Nimrod said at the opportune moment: "Everyone's here. Mr. A, please introduce the specific objective of this operation."

Mr. A and the Saint of Secrets' gazes immediately retracted, and the sense of danger emanating from them instantly vanished.

"Alright."

Mr. A said nothing more, fully entrusting his thoughts to the True Creator: "We are now going to rendezvous with the clients. The two clients will serve as bait to lure the target here — we will quickly deal with the target to prevent the Rose School of Thought's demigod from converging with them."

Botis, the Saint of Secrets, said to the three in a low voice: "You can try to kill the Rose School of Thought's demigod. I will hide nearby to assist, but Ace Snake is here, and if the commotion is too great, he might pursue us. Therefore, I will only provide help when you encounter fatal danger."

After saying this, Botis's figure gradually melted into the air.

"After the mission is over, I will distribute rewards according to the contributions made in battle." Mr. A's voice was stern. At this moment, Mr. A seemed somewhat impartial: "Under the Lord's gaze."

Good, he didn't ask the question I was most worried about — Klein secretly breathed a sigh of relief in his heart, but maintained his original expression: "Understood."

Mr. A nodded lightly: "I need to know how to address you."

Klein's lips curved slightly, and he flicked out a tarot card: "[World]."

"You can just call me [World]."

Chapter 181: Omen of Death.

Gehrman Sparrow.

This was the name Klein had chosen for his persona. The first half of the name came from an old Hunter, while the latter half was the surname of a legendary pirate.

As for "The World"—it was clearly the position Klein had reserved for his persona in the Tarot Club. On one hand, it was to prepare for the fact that Mr. Fool's favored truly had traces of existence. On the other hand, it was a patch applied in advance to allow him to cooperate with other members of the Tarot Club in the real world.

Mr. A noted down the code name "The World" without saying much, only nodding and saying, "Let's go."

When carrying out the mission, Mr. A completely shed the appearance of treating himself as a subordinate before the Saint, instead taking full control of the mission.

Nimrod was happy to let this happen. He gently pinched the corners of his eyes and walked with Mr. A and Klein toward the Darkness ahead.

In the abandoned, dilapidated dockyard, there were abandoned warehouses everywhere. After walking for about ten minutes, stopping and going, and using various methods to cover the traces left by the three of them, they finally arrived at a dilapidated house.

This house looked like it had been used by people who lived here before, but it was now empty, with only some useless waste piled up in the room—even the waste had already been scavenged by the scavengers of the East Borough.

The most valuable item in the room was a mirror fragment that only had a small portion left, covered in dense cracks. Most of the mirror had completely disappeared, looking as if someone had picked out the larger pieces and taken them away.

This was the ambush location agreed upon by Mr. A, Sharon, and Maric.

Nimrod leaned against the wall on one side, quietly watching Mr. A stand in front of the mirror.

The mirror reflected fragmented shadows. A figure wearing a gloomy court gown appeared next to every crack in the mirror, and after a brief stagnation, it returned to a whole.

"I have arrived." Mr. A spoke to the "Wraith" in front of him in the most direct language: "Where is your companion?"

"Wraith" Sharon, apprentice of Reneit Tinicor—the identity of the "Wraith" before him surfaced in Nimrod's mind, and he conveniently stuffed a copy of this information to Klein.

Klein was originally quietly tucking matches to the side. The experience of a certain Master Luo constantly reminded Klein of the combat style of the "Fool" Pathway: be as cautious as possible, and never be reckless if you can avoid it.

He had hidden several boxes of matches along the way. If he encountered an unexpected situation, Klein was fully capable of continuously "Flame Jump"-ing to a safe place within tens of seconds—for example, inside the urban area of Backlund.

Klein, who possessed an official identity, was not afraid of being held accountable, but there was much to consider regarding the potentially existing "Prisoner" demigod he had to deal with.

"Reneit Tinicor?"

Klein had some questions about this name, and he very skillfully expressed this doubt in his heart.

"An angel of the 'Temperance Faction' of the 'Rose School of Thought', a favored of the 'Chained God'." Nimrod told a small lie: "—Currently missing under the siege of the 'Rose School of Thought', life or death unknown."

Not life or death unknown—actually, she was already a little dead.

Klein withdrew his gaze, having no intention of continuing to ask, simply withdrawing his focus and continuing to plan the tactics needed for the upcoming battle.

"Maric has discovered the traces of the enemy." "Wraith" Sharon replied: "He is currently preparing to lure the enemies who are hunting us over. He had already set off when you arrived here."

Mr. A nodded silently: "We will wait here. You only need to be responsible for luring those blasphemers who should be purified to this place."

Sharon did not answer, simply disappearing from the spot quickly to continue checking the preparations completed earlier.

Nimrod scanned his surroundings and found a place to sit down. His figure seemed to have completely merged into the environment, while Mr. A took a cross from his hand and solemnly pressed it against his forehead, seemingly engaged in silent prayer.

In the howling cold wind, the atmosphere of this abandoned land quickly became cold and desolate. Just as Klein also wanted to completely hide his presence, he heard Mr. A's voice: " 'The World'."

Huh? Klein cast his gaze toward Mr. A's location. At this moment, the man in the black robe seemed to have finished his prayer and was looking at Klein: "The Saint should have told you that we might be facing a demigod this time, a demigod of the 'Prisoner' Pathway."

Klein nodded gently: "I know."

Mr. A was silent for a moment, then asked a question that seemed completely unrelated: "What is your faith?"

Klein felt a bit of a toothache for a moment, not quite understanding Mr. A's intention, but Nimrod's voice sounded in Klein's ears at the right time: "Just answer normally."

"I am considered a Believer of the Goddess, the Evernight Goddess." Klein drew a crimson moon on his chest and said sincerely: "It is inconvenient to disclose my specific identity."

"Most of the Beyonder Believers of the Evernight Goddess eventually joined the Nighthawks." Mr. A gave a dull laugh: "If you had no faith, then what you should have answered me was 'True Creator' or 'no faith'—this is the safest answer for an ordinary Beyonder when facing us."

Did you learn this ability to fish for information from Nimrod? Klein complained in his heart.

Mr. A continued: "The Lord's angel warned us that all living beings in the mortal world have faith, and we should not force all life to be able to understand the Lord's grace."

"The only faiths not tolerated by the Lord are those of the betrayers, and 'Darkness' is not among them."

Mr. A felt he would not forget the teachings of that "War Angel": "What about those who believe in those three betrayers? Do I still need to teach you? Go send those who believe so devoutly to see their gods!" Medici sneered: "I would like to see if those people still believe in them after seeing what their gods look like—"

Mr. A continued slowly: "The Lord does not mind the world believing in other deities. He has descended an oracle, allowing Believers to believe in other gods while believing in Him."

"Therefore, you don't need to be too nervous. Nervousness will cause you to make mistakes during battle, and in a battle against a demigod, a mistake means death."

After waking up, the "True Creator" began to deliberately distinguish His state from the "Primordial God Almighty". Under the "Purification" of "Sefirah Castle", the disgust and disdain in His divinity for other deities were suppressed very deeply, and this was also something the "Primordial God Almighty" found difficult to tolerate.

The "Primordial God Almighty" could only accept that He was the only God. He was the beginning, He was all things; therefore, He did not allow all things to believe in other gods.

Klein's mouth twitched slightly, and he said as tactfully as possible: "Sorry, I always associate this with the past deeds of the Aurora Order, and it is still difficult for me to separate you from your previous image for the time being."

"This is only natural." Mr. A said without surprise: "We once misinterpreted the Lord's will and committed great sins—the Lord is willing to bear all sins for us, but we cannot peaceably push them onto the Lord."

Mr. A shook his head without smiling: "We must redeem the sins of our souls. If you encounter those Believers who cannot understand the Lord's will—you may send them back to the Lord's kingdom."

"The Lord can forgive Sinners, but we cannot."

To be honest, Mr. A, I still think you guys are very twisted—Klein sighed in his heart, withdrew his gaze, and did not talk to this crazy Believer again.

A chaotic evil Beyonder sect had now turned into lawful evil. This left Klein unsure of how to evaluate it for a moment, but at least the Aurora Order had become a bit more normal now.

"They are here." Just at this moment, Nimrod, who had been merged into the environment, detected movement outside the house—rapid footsteps came from afar, and clouds like an iron curtain gradually covered the crimson moonlight, as if the Evernight Goddess had voluntarily closed her eyes.

Klein's heart beat slowly, but he felt the surging emotions in his heart. He calmly detached his emotions and slowly reached his hand into his pocket.

That was a deck of tarot cards that had been separated in advance.

Klein's gaze gradually focused; he relied almost entirely on his own Beyonder abilities to control his expression. Although he had made corresponding preparations, the upcoming battle was not something he could control:

He needed to face two mid-Sequence Beyonders whose Sequences were close to his own, or even higher; a Sequence 5 hidden behind the scenes; and possibly even a terrifying demigod stronger than the "sword of the goddess".

If not for "creeping hunger", this would not have been a challenging "performance", but a delivery of a Beyonder characteristic served on a silver platter.

A rustling sound rang out. Under Mr. A's pitch-black hood, the small portion of his smooth, demonic face that could be seen was covered by shadows. A book appeared from Mr. A's hand, floating by his side, fluttering and opening automatically.

A blood-red cloak emerged from under the black robe. Unlike Mr. A's previous flamboyant style, this time the black robe tightly covered this cloak of flesh and blood, so much so that one could not even smell the bloodiness of flesh magic.

Nimrod was very familiar with this devious aura. It was highly likely the tactic passionately instructed by Red Angel Medici in the underground church of his manor during this period.

First, disguise himself as a squishy "Scribe", and after the opponent painstakingly gets close to him, Mr. A could show the opponent the abundant martial virtues of a Shepherd.

Nimrod's eyes slowly opened. There was already a pure white mask on his face, and in his hand was a pitch-black scythe. The semi-circular blade of the scythe emitted majestic and scorching golden patterns, which looked like an incomplete Sun in the dark night.

A translucent "talisman" with bloodshot threads appeared on his forehead. At the right eye of the mask, a blood-red monocle appeared there, seemingly fitted together with the mask.

In addition to the enhancements brought to Nimrod by the beyonder item, he also possessed the Beyonder characteristic of three Pathways simultaneously: "Dream Stealer", "Mendicant Monk", and "Robot".

Coupled with the trait of not fearing "divinity pollution", Nimrod was at his most powerful state since transmigrating. He now had the confidence to fight a demigod head-on.

He opened his eyes and saw the scene before him in an instant:

Three figures were fleeing rapidly toward here. Maric, who was in the lead, was being chased by two members of the "Rose School of Thought" behind him, gritting his teeth and revealing an extremely ferocious expression.

Sharon's figure appeared for a moment in a mirror fragment on the side, then quickly disappeared, clearly going to support Maric.

Sharon and Maric played the role of "bait" in this "joint hunt", and only after Sharon, who was the "main course", appeared, would "Wraith" Steve and the "Puppet" demigod who might have already noticed this place appear!

Maric blew a shrill whistle. Around the cabin, the soil in different locations was lifted, and corpses without expressions sat up—these were exactly the Zombies Maric had ambushed here in advance!

His opponent was also a "Zombie"—a real "Zombie", the Sequence 6 "Zombie" Jason. And the "Werewolf" Tail, who had been left behind by the two just now, also rushed over. The black nails at the tips of his palms were as long as fangs, looking terrifyingly abnormal.

And in Nimrod's eyes, whether it was the "Zombie" Jason who was being possessed by Sharon or the "Werewolf" Tail, both of them had rich blood-red colors flashing on their bodies.

As long as their Sequence did not exceed Nimrod's, Nimrod could see their impending fate. And the two people now, in Nimrod's eyes—

Their death was imminent.

Sharon's figure appeared in Jason's eyes. The battle of mid-Sequence Prisoner only required simple and unadorned close combat. Under the possession of the Wraith, Jason was gripping Tail's neck tightly, but crimson moonlight radiated from the "Crimson Moon Crown" in the "Werewolf" Tail's hand.

For a moment, Sharon's legs went limp, she detached from Jason's body, and fell to the ground; and Maric's expression also twisted suddenly, suffering painful torture under this moonlight.

At the same time, a dense blood-red humanoid figure appeared in Nimrod's eyes again.

"Wraith" Steve, hidden behind the scenes, made his move at the moment when the "Crimson Moon Crown" simultaneously affected Sharon and Maric!

Just at this moment, a voice sounded like a declaration: "I came, I saw, I recorded."

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#182Prelude to Chapter 182

Chapter 182: Prelude

"I came, I saw, I recorded."

Mr. A's voice quickly became ethereal. His figure instantly emerged high in the air as if being outlined. Crimson moonlight pierced through the thick clouds, and the wild wind made his clothes rattle, condensing into countless invisible Wind Blades around him.

His hood lifted slightly, and a crazed blood-red light seeped from Mr. A's eyes.

If it were an ordinary Beyonder, they might have already averted their gaze in fear of Mr. A's eerie, Monster-like appearance. However, the eyes of "Zombie" Jason and "Werewolf" Tyr, who had just broken free from Sharon's control, were similarly tinged with madness.

The Indulgence Faction "Prisoners" bewitched by the "Mother Tree of Desire" would become even more crazed after being influenced by the "crimson moon crown"!

In the next moment, countless thin Wind Blades rained down like a violent storm. "Werewolf" Tyr, holding the "crimson moon crown" that continuously emitted a serene glow, saw his pupils suddenly contract and his gaze become clear.

Holding the "crimson moon crown," "Werewolf" Tyr's entire body retreated, even dragging out a series of afterimages, instantly distancing himself from his companions.

In the Cthulhu world, an investigator's three great artifacts are the "Elder Sign," the "Crowbar," and "companions." The same holds true in the world of mystery. Of course, the "companion" as an artifact doesn't mean that working together can overcome difficulties—

It means they are used to take the blow for you.

Now it was time for his companion to fulfill his role.

The powerful defense of the "Zombie" proved effective. Dense, mottled scars appeared on "Zombie" Jason's body, and a cold aura emerged on his skin, causing his wounds to quickly stop bleeding.

But in the next moment, Mr. A, his face glowing red, appeared in front of Jason. After releasing the "Wind Blades," Mr. A—

—switched his grazed target from "Wind-Blessed" back to "Scribe." Coincidentally, Mr. A had "recorded" the ability of a "Traveler."

Before Jason could stabilize himself, the flesh all over his body seemed to boil, somewhat out of his control. Just as he wanted to use frost to condense a layer of protection for himself, he saw Mr. A's palm pierce straight through, and he felt a sense of corruption in both body and mind.

This was the ability of the "Baron of Corruption" grazed by Mr. A!

A "Baron of Corruption" can make a person gradually become dark and greedy. This happened to pair perfectly with the "Depravity" of "The Hanged Man" Pathway, allowing Mr. A, a "Shepherd," to break through the enemy's defense in an instant and plant the seeds of flesh and blood magic into the enemy's body.

In the next moment, the flesh and blood inside Jason truly "boiled." Countless bits of flesh twisted and flowed out from the wound, looking like a blooming, delicate rose.

With a "boom," the flesh and blood magic inside Jason was completely detonated, turning into a cold mist of blood tinged with black.

A Sequence 5 "Shepherd" with a well-configured "grazing" setup could completely achieve an instant kill on a Beyonder one Sequence lower than themselves!

Just then, Nimrod's wrist twisted, and "Werewolf" Tyr suddenly became a collection of various colors in his eyes. "Fate" gave Nimrod a certain guidance, causing two nearly identical crimson colors to appear in his eyes. One belonged to Tyr's own Beyonder ability, and the other was the "crimson moon crown."

As long as he could steal the "crimson moon crown," he could liberate the combat power of Sharon and Maric—one a Sequence 5 and the other a Sequence 6!

Nimrod had always adhered to the philosophy of the strong bullying the weak. With Rosago's glorious record before him and Susanna's tragic case after, Nimrod still felt it was better to be cautious.

He gave a light chuckle. The talisman with blood streaks at his glabella lit up slightly, and an extremely evil aura suddenly emerged from Nimrod. Not far away, the mist of blood ignited, spreading toward Tyr, who had just escaped the range of the Wind Blades.

Firstly, this was using the Extraordinary Aggregation Principle to make himself more similar to the "crimson moon crown," helping him distinguish which clump of light belonged to it. Secondly, it was to use this "Fire of Life" to affect Tyr.

"Werewolf" Tyr felt the "crimson moon crown" in his hand shake and then miraculously disappear. He could only hurriedly raise his arms, his body hair hardening as he forcibly resisted the flames burning beside him like a spring day.

For an ordinary "Dream Stealer," stealing a beyonder item without knowing its specific negative effects was not without risk. If the negative effect of that beyonder item happened to align with their own potential issues, the "Dream Stealer" might directly lose their ability to fight.

However, Nimrod had means to handle these beyonder items.

He tossed it casually, grey mist emerging from his hand as he threw the "crimson moon crown" into the "Sefirah Castle." But at that moment, the voice of the Celestial Worthy suddenly rang in Nimrod's ear:

[You've overlooked one thing.]

[You haven't met other Beyonders of the "Chained" Pathway. Although they are "Prisoners," it is precisely because of this that they are exceptionally cautious—]

[They were once bound; therefore, they are criminals even more cautious than "Devils"—]

After hearing the Celestial Worthy's voice in his ear, a faint light flickered in Nimrod's eyes, but he did not stop his actions.

While "Werewolf" Tyr was busy fending off the attack, he stole Tyr's thoughts:

Nimrod naturally rolled to the side and quickly stood up—Tyr had intended to dodge the burning flames by moving to the right, but now he took the attack head-on.

[—Then, why hasn't that "Wraith" chosen to flee yet?]

[Only a dozen seconds have passed since the battle began, but you already have combat power close to four Sequence 5s—he knows very well he has no chance of winning.]

The "Wraith" Steve, who emerged nearby, was a middle-aged man in his forties. His hair was neatly combed back, oily and meticulous, with eyes that hid green within black.

He wore a black tailcoat with a dark red cape behind him.

At this moment, Steve's body appeared translucent, like a cold, gloomy Wraith. Meanwhile, a water-like Darkness appeared in the depths of Mr. A's eyes, and the surrounding spirits seemed to become sluggish.

But this couldn't inflict a fatal injury on Steve. Mr. A was currently only a Sequence 5 "Shepherd" and lacked offensive abilities specifically targeting spirit bodies.

Several possibilities quickly surfaced in Nimrod's mind. A guess vaguely emerged, and he created a thought within his own mind.

[You've guessed it.]

The Celestial Worthy's tone seemed to always be unchangingly playful, but this time it clearly carried a hint of a smile:

[You know, these two "Prisoners" of the Temperance Faction left clues to lead that demigod elsewhere—]

"Wraith" Steve wouldn't know when that demigod would be able to support him.

So, why would he persistently stay here under such circumstances?

Steve's figure quickly blurred and tried to drill into Mr. A's body. Mr. A's body stiffened there—

—but in the next moment, his body began to undergo a violent change. A "Devil" has a certain resistance to curses, and "Wraith Possession" is a standard type of curse.

Or rather, all "Mutants" are cursed ones; their abilities all stem from their own "curses"!

Just then, a flame ignited beside Mr. A. "Gehrman," wearing a tailcoat, curled his body and emerged from the flames with a cold expression. While Jason and Tyr were being targeted by Mr. A and Nimrod, Klein had hidden himself to wait for an opportunity:

He knew that among these three pursuers was a Sequence 5 "Wraith." Not knowing if there was a "Sun" Pathway Beyonder among the spirits grazed by Mr. A, Klein had adjusted the grazed target of "creeping hunger" to "Priest of Light" before the battle even began.

The Beyonder abilities of the "Sun" Pathway were the most effective against "Wraiths"!

Klein's arms spread wide, and an extremely holy light dispersed from his body, enveloping Mr. A's interior.

A look of pain appeared on Mr. A's face, and he immediately ended his grazing of the "Devil"—as a faith opposite to the "Sun," the "Shepherd" would suffer damage from "Purification," and the "Devil" would likewise suffer the same.

As Steve's figure uncontrollably appeared in the air, Nimrod's wrist twisted, stealing a glow of Beyonder power from Steve. Steve let out a cry of pain, quickly regressing from his transparent spirit state back to a physical state.

Mr. A seized this momentary opportunity. He didn't graze the "Devil" or any other soul; instead, his entire being instantly melted into a mass of flesh and blood, launching an attack on Steve from all angles:

He wanted to continuously suppress the "Wraith" before him to prevent it from seizing a chance to escape!

Around Mr. A, flames ignited one after another. After releasing "Purification," Klein didn't stay in place. Not wanting to give this "Wraith" any chance, he directly used several "Flame Jumps," preparing to switch the grazed target of "creeping hunger" to assist Mr. A in thoroughly killing the "Wraith."

But just then, a voice suddenly surfaced in Klein's mind: "Get away from here, blow the copper whistle, and notify Azik."

Notify Mr. Azik?

Klein was momentarily stunned, but he still distanced himself from the center of the battle at the fastest speed and quickly blew Azik's copper whistle.

At that moment, Klein's expression also changed slightly, as if he had thought of a certain possibility.

Where Mr. A and "Wraith" Steve were fighting, flesh was flying and spells were being cast everywhere. Having lost the ability to transform into a "Wraith," Steve maintained himself in a "Zombie" state.

The reason he didn't use the "Werewolf" form, which had stronger offensive and healing capabilities, was because trading injury for injury with a former "Rose Bishop" was truly a painful affair.

Even if a "Werewolf" had strong self-healing, it couldn't be stronger than a "Rose Bishop" who could knead themselves like flesh-and-blood putty.

Not to mention, a Rose Bishop could even use your flesh to repair their own wounds while fighting. At the thought of the battle potentially evolving into such a state, a sense of nausea arose in Steve's heart:

We are all evil god cults, usually in a state of mutual non-interference. Why have you started sabotaging other cults' plans?

Just as this thought occurred to Steve, Mr. A's figure changed back from flesh to his normal form. His body underwent an extremely rapid transformation, once again entering the state of grazing a "Devil"!

A "Devil's" ability to control flames and resist curses was quite effective against the "Death Magic," "Rot Magic," and "Frost Magic" mastered by Steve!

But he can't finish me off in a short time—I just need to wait until that Lord, who is responsible for hunting Sharon and Maric, arrives here, and then I can kill these annoying fellows!

Steve's blackish-green eyes glinted with a cold luster. He abruptly withdrew the Beyonder ability he was about to release and instead extended his hands as the surrounding Darkness seemed to grow even denser:

The surrounding ground quickly turned pitch black, and twisted, blood-colored vines slowly grew out from it, shooting toward Mr. A in his Devil form.

Mr. A naturally did not shrink back. He brandished a greatsword formed of lava, cutting through the blood-colored vines while rapidly closing in on Steve.

Steve had no intention of launching a proactive counterattack. He nimbly rolled to the side, once again widening the distance between him and Mr. A.

But just then, a brilliant light broke through the thick Darkness, slashing toward Steve's location.

Just as Steve wanted to dodge, he saw a dim color emerge in the Darkness before him. A figure with deep eyes appeared from within, casting his gaze upon Steve.

"Saint of Secrets" Botis!

A Sequence 4 demigod!

Steve's gaze gradually froze, and the blood throughout his body seemed to physically congeal.

That brilliant light with the luster of the Sun pierced through Steve's skull, turning his eyes golden as radiant light burst from the holes in his head.

Nimrod's body re-emerged from the "Wraith" state. He had done only one thing just now:

Steal Steve's wariness toward him, giving himself the chance to approach him.

A full-powered strike from the "sun scythe" was enough to make Steve lose the ability to resist the subsequent attacks!

From the start of the battle until now, less than five minutes had passed.

And now, it was time to end this battle.

Mr. A leaped high, his lava greatsword slashing down, ending Steve's life. But he did not relax in the slightest; instead, he ended his grazing of the "Devil," and a book appeared in his hand.

The "Saint of Secrets" looked forward. A crack opened in the thick clouds, and from above the crimson Moon, a thin, brown-skinned old man wearing black clerical robes slowly descended.

Flames flickered nearby, and "Gehrman" walked out from the fire with a solemn expression. In the Darkness beside him, a figure wearing a silk top hat and a black formal suit stepped out slowly.

Nimrod's gaze was calm. His fingers twitched slightly, and a lantern burning with black flames appeared in his hand. A bizarre divinity spread from his body, making him look like a Monster hidden in the deep Darkness.

Black armor spread over Mr. A's body. He gripped a black longsword, and beneath the black knight's helmet were two points of blood-red light.

Mr. A held his longsword horizontally, blocking everyone's path—at this moment, he heard the Lord's voice, heard the Lord's revelation, heard the Lord's disgust.

The enemy before them was undoubtedly a heretic who believed in an evil god.

A battle to the death was imminent.