CH-038

The instant the Deputy Archbishop collapsed, the clergy inside the bell tower panicked.

Ecclesiastical Prefect Damian was not unworthy of his role as the man responsible for day-to-day church matters — his panic lasted only a moment. After that, his full attention was on Deputy Archbishop Hugo, but once he had gotten the full picture from Deacon Gideon, he quickly took command of the situation, stabilizing morale.

He first directed the deacons to move the Deputy Archbishop to the medical clinic and arranged people to watch over him; then he had officers seal off the news of the Archbishop's death and restricted all present from letting so much as a word slip. As for the blood-weeping statue in the chapel, he issued an order to seal off the altar area, had the statue removed promptly, and left only two of his most trusted deacons to stand guard.

"The Duke's wedding on July seventh must proceed as scheduled." Ecclesiastical Prefect Damian stated clearly in an emergency meeting convened for all the district priests. "There is no need for any of you to be anxious — simply attend the wedding as normal."

After the meeting, he ordered the district priests to return to their lodgings, forbade them from leaving of their own accord, forbade them from speaking privately with each other, and allowed no visitors. Church guards were deployed to strengthen patrols around the cathedral.

The entire set of orders was executed swiftly. Before the district priests could fully absorb the sudden changes of the morning, they had already been driven back to their rooms.

Herens, seeing his priest leisurely pouring himself water, hesitated for a long moment before finally saying: "This is more or less like being under house arrest, isn't it?"

"Perhaps they're handling things in a way that's not convenient for the district priests to know about?" Shu Li, seeing Herens's agitation, also retrieved from his bag the board game he and Finnian had played together on the ox cart — black-and-white pieces Elder Yager had made for them: white pieces kept in their natural wood color, black pieces charred over smoke. "Come play a game!"

The so-called board game had many possible play styles — from Gomoku to Reversi to Go — all intellectually engaging and capable of consuming a great deal of time.

Shu Li spread the pieces out and invited Herens to sit across from him: "Come on!"

"Isn't Father Alistair afraid of running into danger?" Herens asked.

Shu Li looked up at Herens and thought for two or three seconds before asking in return: "What danger are we going to run into?"

This question left Herens speechless.

"As the old saying goes: if it's a blessing it won't be a disaster, and if it's a disaster you can't avoid it." Shu Li placed the first piece down and said: "If the Lord wants us to die, and we frantically think about how to escape — well, that's defying His will. That certainly won't do."

Herens couldn't help but sigh. He honestly couldn't tell whether his priest had a remarkably large heart, was innately optimistic, or had long since seen through to where everything was heading and was simply playing it cool.

Before he could say anything, the young priest across from him smiled again and pulled out four or five bread rolls from his bag: "Thank goodness I specifically went to the bread shop yesterday and brought back plenty of good things to eat. And our room still has two people in it — we can chat to pass the time."

Herens was momentarily cheered up by Shu Li's manner, but the smile didn't reach the deeper part of his heart.

Facing the board Shu Li had laid out, though it was his turn to place a piece, his hand couldn't quite come down on one.

He had held something in for a long time. Counting from the day he had first disappeared after arriving in Carson City, he'd been waiting for Shu Li to bring it up. But Shu Li had never asked about his reason for disappearing, and this made him both grateful and uneasy in his conscience.

As a knight in service to a priest, he was not only the priest's sword but also the priest's shield — his heart had to belong entirely to the priest, with no hidden things, no personal secrets.

Yet Shu Li appeared to have no such expectations of Herens at all.

Could it be that the priest didn't even think of him as a knight?

Herens couldn't help but reflect on his own performance over these past months — it was perhaps not unreasonable for the priest to think this way, since every time the priest was in danger he had resolved things himself, and Herens had not played a sufficient role.

"Ah..."

Shu Li, hearing his long sigh, couldn't help smiling: "Why so troubled?"

Herens stared at Shu Li's face, wanting to say something but stopping himself several times. In the end he couldn't help but ask carefully: "May I ask how Father Alistair sees the events of today?"

Shu Li met his gaze with clear eyes and said: "Are you worried that the blood-weeping statue is a sign of misfortune?"

This was a perfectly reasonable deduction. People had always feared things like this that defied explanation, and they might very naturally link the statue weeping blood to the Archbishop's death.

Herens's heart gave a small lurch.

He wanted to read Father Alistair's expression to judge whether the priest had already seen through to something. But Shu Li was neither pressing further nor displaying suspicion — not even a trace of unease. This only made Herens feel more guilty and more conflicted.

He couldn't help lowering his eyes again. His fingers fidgeted unconsciously with a game piece, a heaviness pressing on his chest.

Shu Li's gaze shifted away from Herens without remark and turned toward the window.

He didn't intend to press for answers, because pressing would only produce more lies, and that served no purpose.

Shu Li's thinking was clear. If Herens was unwilling to speak, he wouldn't say what he himself had deduced either. Even if those deductions would ultimately be to Herens's benefit, it still wasn't worth Shu Li stepping forward to do such a favor.

Because up to this point, Shu Li could see that in Herens's heart, there were things more important than Father Alistair, however much Herens was a believer. If today's events ultimately brought danger, and Herens still chose to keep Shu Li entirely in the dark — whether passively or actively allowing Shu Li to find himself in peril while refusing to let slip even half a word — that would be more than enough to answer the question.

In that case, when a true choice had to be made, Shu Li would absolutely not be the person Herens chose to protect first.

In that case, at such a moment, Shu Li should prioritize protecting himself.

Taking what he had observed today: Herens was absolutely connected to the case of the Archbishop's "suicide."

Because he had accidentally let something slip earlier — he had used the word "suspicious."

Why would staying behind near the Archbishop's body make one suspicious? Everyone had simply assumed the Archbishop committed suicide — what was there to be suspicious of? So Herens had internally accepted from the start that the Archbishop was murdered.

And Herens knew what he himself was suspected of — of being the murderer.

This was evidence enough that Herens knew, and by default, that the Archbishop had been killed, not by suicide.

Based on the evidence currently in hand, there were three things that supported this conclusion.

The first was sound. When Deacon Gideon, who had discovered the scene, stated he had heard a splash and then found no one around the well, he had ruled out an accidental fall and concluded it was suicide. But even a person choosing to take their own life would still struggle with the water in their final moments — the body's physiological rejection of water entering the throat could not be suppressed by willpower alone. Gideon had heard only a splash. Nothing more.

The second was the condition of the body. Admittedly Shu Li had only caught a brief look and couldn't determine time of death — but the whitened, puckered skin on the hands and feet was inconsistent. A person who had just fallen into a well could not develop the white and shriveled skin of long submersion in so short a time. Especially given that from the sound of the splash to the body being pulled out, the interval was under five minutes. Yet for someone who had voluntarily drowned, achieving death in five minutes would require either complete loss of consciousness or continuous aspiration of water. And Gideon had heard no sounds of struggle.

So this ruled out suicide as well.

The third was the well water itself. The well water had been fine the night before, yet the water Father Symeon drank before eight o'clock in the morning already had a strange taste and caused severe gastrointestinal distress. This meant that by before eight o'clock, the well was already compromised — meaning a body was very likely already concealed somewhere in the well by then. Most people drawing water wouldn't look down into the well, and the Archbishop wore black robes, making the body easy to hide.

If the body had been in the well before eight o'clock, then it was impossible for the Archbishop to have committed suicide after eight.

Which meant someone had set up a delayed mechanism. And this mechanism had two functions: it successfully created confusion and provided the killer with an alibi, and it successfully triggered panic — because no one could believe that an Archbishop of such high standing and such brilliant prospects would suddenly and inexplicably take his own life. Yet precisely when the suicide occurred, a statue inside the same church wept blood. People would very easily connect these two simultaneously occurring events, building a sense of dread.

As for why someone would do this, Shu Li wasn't entirely clear. Too many possible motives existed. It was also possible it connected back to Herens.

If Herens had let it slip, "suspicious" — it meant he knew this wasn't a suicide. And he knew Shu Li staying by the body could make Shu Li a suspect. That meant the killer, in Herens's mind, was someone else. So why hadn't Herens said so?

Shu Li could only shake his head inwardly — there was nothing he could do.

After all, they'd only known each other for less than half a year.

He could only say that the harm others could do to him had to be guarded against, even while he still chose to trust Herens and give him a chance. Because perhaps Shu Li was overthinking things.

Shu Li toyed with a game piece in his hand, his peripheral gaze still drifting to Herens.

Truthfully, in his heart he was still willing to believe in Herens and wanted to give him an opportunity. Because perhaps it was just that the stakes were too high right now. And he genuinely wanted to open up to Herens.

Only — in this situation, safety first. Shu Li could not be the first to speak.

But before Shu Li could wait for Herens to open his mouth, the door outside was knocked three times in rapid succession.

It was Deacon Gideon. "Father Alistair — Deputy Archbishop Hugo has regained consciousness. He wishes to meet with you. Would you be willing to come with me?"

Shu Li put the game piece down and replied offhandedly: "I'll come now."

He had barely stood up when Herens reminded him: "Nothing is clear right now — it's best to be careful. What if it really isn't Deputy Archbishop Hugo who woke up?"

Shu Li felt Deacon Gideon was actually fairly easy to see through. If Gideon had any plan to use invitations to call out the priests one by one and deal with them privately, he would first have to be able to fool Shu Li's eyes. That wouldn't be easy.

Regardless, Shu Li still said to Herens: "If I don't come back on time — within two hours, say — just find a way to escape on your own. Don't worry about me. Because at that point something serious will truly have happened."

And if that happened, Shu Li would certainly be the first one out of the cathedral, running somewhere no one could find him.

As for Herens — he'd have to look out for himself.

But hearing this, Herens's chest tightened, afraid Shu Li might sacrifice himself alone. He couldn't help reaching out and gripping Shu Li's arm: "Father Alistair — if you're in danger, I will absolutely fight tooth and nail to save you."

Shu Li looked into his eyes. That was true. But a person's goodwill toward another always came with conditions and limits — and that wasn't a prerequisite for genuine openness between two people.

Shu Li smiled and patted his arm: "If you have that kind of heart for me, it would be better spent thinking about whether there's something you've been hiding from me that you don't dare say. Do you understand?"

After leaving Herens with those words, Shu Li walked out without looking back.

*

Deacon Gideon led Shu Li to the cathedral's medical clinic. Deputy Archbishop Hugo had been placed in the best private room available.

The room was clean and quiet. At the head of the bed sat a vase of vividly blooming fresh flowers — impractically ornamental — while the blanket on the bed was of a quality that even the uninitiated could see was soft and expensive. From just these small details, the cathedral's great respect and care for this old man was apparent.

The moment Shu Li stepped in the door, he could feel the other's burning gaze snapping toward him — warm and eager, like someone who hadn't seen a dear one in many days.

Shu Li: "......" Was he still unwell?

The Deputy Archbishop sitting upright in the bed didn't sense any of Shu Li's small reservations — he only stared at Shu Li with bright eyes, terrified that this person in front of him might suddenly vanish.

"Young man," the old man said, his voice trembling with joy and anticipation, "do you remember who I am?"

"......" This one line sent Shu Li rapidly searching through his limited memories. He went out very rarely and knew very few people — could this be someone the original Alistair had known?

The moment he'd been preparing for had finally arrived. He had been rehearsing the amnesia angle for a long time.

Shu Li's eyelashes fluttered lightly, and then he looked up — expression steady and sincere. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice carrying a note of regret. "I don't remember."

He had prepared a complete story around the amnesia, with its greatest advantage being that it was impossible to disprove. He couldn't speak first — he needed to wait for the other party to offer information before he could respond in a way that neither said too much nor too little, keeping himself in an unassailable position.

Deputy Archbishop Hugo's tone was notably bright — clearly not at all bothered, and he said: "When I went gambling yesterday, a child and young person came over to help me. Do you remember?"

"......" Hearing him say this, Shu Li recalled — he had in fact encountered an old man like this. At the time, Finnian had spotted him losing badly and couldn't stand watching it anymore, and asked the passing Shu Li if he had a solution. And so Shu Li had taught a method of hiding a coin under everyone's eyes. He hadn't originally intended to get personally involved.

To someone addicted to gambling, there was never any winning. Because they were too greedy. But Shu Li had still been fairly willing to let Finnian get what he wished for. After all, happiness was something hard to come by.

He had been careful, though — given that Hugo was an infamous wealth-extractor, Shu Li had no wish for himself or Finnian to become tools in someone else's money-making scheme.

"If it's about helping you win money," Shu Li said, voice even, "I think it was merely luck. We didn't have any particular intention of helping you — to put it honestly, I'm not sure it's anything worth remembering. For a Deputy Archbishop of Carson City, a few silver coins on a gambling table surely aren't worth noting, are they?"

Shu Li was using his tone and a couple of sentences to try to cleanly separate himself and his connection to Hugo.

Deputy Archbishop Hugo, hearing Shu Li be so blunt, was momentarily taken aback.

He had spent ten years as a gambler and had seen plenty of occasions where people played favorites or helped him, yet none of those had become the obsession he'd carried for so long. What he had been searching for was never "someone who could help him win" — it was someone who could answer the question he had been asking with his whole soul.

"But only you," the old man looked at him, his voice carrying a trace of trembling, "answered my question."

Shu Li frowned slightly, looking at the man before him with some puzzlement — that burning yet waiting, joyful and near-obstinate gaze. His own gaze shifted then to the bandage around the man's head, and he changed the subject: "What happened to your injury?"

"Someone pushed me," Hugo replied with easy composure, seeming not particularly concerned about his current condition. "But the Lord protected me — nothing serious."

He paused, then pressed one hand to his own chest and offered Shu Li a small bow of respect: "I realize I've been talking for so long without introducing myself — I am Hugo Faulkner, one of the Lord's countless loyal faithful."

"...I am Alistair?" The statement came out with the inflection of a question, because Shu Li didn't know what was happening and uncertainty crept in involuntarily.

Hugo, hearing this, laughed, then beckoned Shu Li to sit beside him. The old man's voice was gentle as someone coaxing a child: "Young man, times outside are unsettled right now. Stay by my side for these few days and let me protect you."

"What do you mean?"

"Our Carson City cathedral's Archbishop did not commit suicide." He spoke unhurriedly, a deeply hidden light passing through his eyes. Yet the gaze with which he watched Shu Li was full of affection and certainty.

Shu Li's heart gave a start — a flash of genuine surprise.

Deputy Archbishop Hugo had been confined to the medical room since the accident and by all rights had little access to information from the scene, yet he spoke with such certainty — as though he saw through everything clearly. If he hadn't received word from someone outside, then he had arrived at this conclusion through his own judgment.

Shu Li began to realize that this head-bandaged old man was likely far more clear-headed and formidable than he appeared on the surface.

He couldn't help thinking back over whatever he knew about this character — this sharp and strategically minded person surely had some presence in the original novel, didn't he?

Hugo Faulkner...?

Shu Li quietly turned the name over in his mind. At first nothing surfaced, but then — in that one moment, after Shu Li thought of Leslie — a chapter from the story he had almost forgotten rose up like light breaking through morning mist.

Shu Li was struck by sudden revelation and stood frozen for half a second.

He wasn't familiar with "Hugo" — but "Faulkner" did ring a bell. Not a main character, not a villain, not even with much direct description. He had only been mentioned in a transitional chapter that readers could easily skim over, introduced as "Leslie's former mentor."

Anyone who had read a revenge novel would know — the male lead's story always contained one indispensable old figure. And Faulkner was precisely that old man who, also imprisoned in the dungeon, imparted wisdom and hope to the male lead during the darkest days of his dungeon life, giving the protagonist's fate a turning point.

And it was Faulkner who, after Leslie escaped the dungeon, gave him a fortune vast enough to rival a nation's treasury. This was also what allowed Leslie to encounter virtually no financial obstacles in the future and to successfully build up an army.

Shu Li couldn't help looking at Deputy Archbishop Hugo, his expression complicated. What circumstances had led this man to end up in a dungeon, dying of illness while imprisoned? Had it started with this very wedding?

If so, this situation was more complicated than Shu Li had imagined.