CH-042

The scene shifts back to Shu Li's side.

Days passed with difficulty to July sixth — one day left before the wedding.

Shu Li felt that the three days since arriving in Carson City had felt longer than an entire year back in Savoie pastoral district. Events had unfolded rapidly and in a tangled mess. The entire Carson ecclesiastical district's Archbishop, Deputy Archbishop, and Ecclesiastical Prefect had, one after another, either died or been injured — as though confirming the omen the statue had signaled.

Even if Shu Li had wanted to stay uninvolved, the people around him wouldn't allow him to remain so composed.

Waking up on the morning of the sixth, the cold wind rushing through the wide-open door had woken Shu Li a full quarter-hour before his internal clock.

Opening his eyes, he saw the silhouette of the black cavalry guard stationed at the door — cold and perfectly upright.

Shu Li stared through bleary eyes for two or three seconds before closing them again.

And the previous day's events came floating back before him one by one. Yesterday, July fifth. While the Archbishop's suicide occurred simultaneously with the blood-weeping statue — like a divine warning to all people — Shu Li had originally thought the church would seal off all information and get through the wedding first. But not long after, before he'd even gotten a bite of warm food, there had been the sudden fire — Ecclesiastical Prefect Damian had perished in the blaze.

As the old saying went: misfortunes never come alone, and blessings never come in pairs.

Truly, it had not deceived the young.

Because water wouldn't satisfy his hunger, when it came time for dinner and Shu Li was starving, there had been another sudden fire. He couldn't go over and watch while munching on a piece of bread — and he'd been about to stay put and eat, but the thought of others around him in their anxious distress catching a whiff of food from his spot made Shu Li feel he could never hold his head up again. And so he'd swallowed his pride and abandoned his dinner, going hungry alongside everyone else as they got caught up in the chaos.

As Shu Li had expected, the fire was being put out by the church's own guards, so the clergy who rushed over could only stand and watch from a distance. Their feet were rooted to the spot, and there was nothing more anyone could do. And so Shu Li watched some of the more fragile clergy, even just seeing the fire from far away, sink to their knees and begin prayer and lamentation, hoping the Lord would quell His wrath and stop these harrowing punishments.

Afterward, as the discussion moved to "the wrath of the Lord," undercurrents ran through the clergy — the conflict had escalated in phases. People in the crowd were openly accusing each other. Those usually appearing gentle and devout were screaming at each other like vendors in a market stall, each louder and more vicious than the last — as though only by this fierce condemnation of others could they alleviate their own sense of blame.

Shu Li couldn't understand it, didn't want to intervene, and simply watched them process the pressure of their fear through argument. He also stayed back for another reason — he could see that none of them had weapons on them, and no one had yet reached the point of wanting to throw punches.

Moreover, the church guards standing nearby would stay put, waiting for someone in authority to come give further instructions. So no one dared to act rashly.

And Shu Li stood there watching, thinking about who would come next to take charge, and then also when someone would finally release them to go eat.

Afterward he did reflect that he'd been disrespecting the gravity of the situation. But at the time he was completely starving, and food was all he could think about.

Because the fifth was a fast day, Shu Li had read up in advance that dinner would be a vegetarian roasted potato. Such a thing could not possibly be made to taste bad no matter how it was cooked. Just roasted over a fire, the hot and yielding filling would certainly be fragrant enough to make one's tongue go numb. Shu Li had already calculated how many he would eat that evening when the environment around him went oddly quiet. Very much like the study hall late at night, when everyone had been whispering to each other, and then there was a moment when the whole group fell into a shared silence. Shu Li was jolted awake by the quiet and instinctively looked up: "Done fighting?"

This line was actually addressed to Father Symeon beside him. But Shu Li had barely said it before realizing — Father Symeon and another young priest were standing together beside him. And the night was so quiet, and so cool.

Shu Li's voice was carried by the wind somewhere he hadn't intended.

In any case, at the moment he'd finished saying it, he found every gaze in the room had landed on him, as though waiting for him to say the next line.

Shu Li was also frozen by this scene — feeling as though an ant was crawling along his spine, even his breathing slowing half a beat. "......"

He hadn't yet worked out how to get himself out of this situation when the "thud thud" of heavy boots on stone suddenly broke out, and then like an unbroken surge of waves, the sound built and approached — and in an instant, Duke Claude's personal military had surrounded everyone in a tight perimeter, uniform and overwhelming.

The person at the front was a gold-haired young general with cold, sharp features and a frost-filled bearing.

In the dark, from the black armor they wore, it was clear these were the duke's personal cavalry. Several of the church staff who had interacted with them in the square immediately recognized them.

The leading general was a young man, his expression icy and cutting, and simply standing there, he gave off a pressure that stilled the air — the kind that came from deep within, a force that felt as though it had been forged in blood and slaughter.

The only thing about him that gave any sense of a human warmth was the silver ring on his left ring finger — plain and unadorned, gleaming softly, like the only corner of that cold world still holding warmth.

"Duke Claude!" a voice called out from the crowd.

The originally chaotic crowd found something like a backbone, or at least a unified outward target, and briefly set aside their mutual grievances, returning to a semblance of calm. Shu Li had originally wanted to get a better look at this duke and see how much he resembled Leslie, but his view was immediately blocked by the other church secondary-level officials. He could only hear Duke Claude's low voice carrying over: "Who can explain what is happening right now?"

There was so much that could be explained. As Shu Li mentally sighed, he also recalled his conversation with Deputy Archbishop Hugo — the Duke's arrival here so perfectly timed made it hard not to connect him to it all. But if it had all been the Duke's orchestration, there was no need for him to have the statue produce an unexpected scene. That was an obvious provocation to church authority. He had just taken a wife from the Grand Cathedral's family, and now in front of all the Carson ecclesiastical district's clergy he was tearing off the mask — this move was both clumsy and short-sighted, failing to maximize the advantages of his earlier positioning and leaving most of his earlier strategy dead in the water. Following this line of reasoning, he was starting to dig his own grave.

Shu Li thought rapidly, and the voices around him were like flames burning endlessly, seemingly waiting for water to cool them.

Duke Claude's voice rang out again — the words were high-minded and proper: "I come here to guarantee my wedding proceeds smoothly. Now people are dying one after another, Deputy Archbishop Hugo is injured, so who will take charge of this wedding? Who will investigate these events — whether they are human-made, or the Lord's will?"

A voice immediately echoed in response: "Deputy Archbishop Hugo seems no longer in condition to continue presiding over the wedding."

"What about the rest?"

This one crisp line drove events forward — Shu Li felt himself suddenly galvanized, like the lunch bell ringing.

Shu Li kept his ears alert while ducking his head even lower. This was his best method of minimizing his own presence. At a moment like this, it was like a teacher starting to call on people to speak. Whoever made eye contact would likely become the unlucky target. If he just acted like a quail and hunched himself down, he could avoid that.

Yet just then, the priest standing next to Father Symeon suddenly raised his hand, shattering the frozen air. Shu Li's eyes flickered, and keeping his shoulders still, he tracked with his gaze this hero who had volunteered. In his heart there were only four words: profound admiration.

Secondly, Shu Li had to say — someone willing to step up and take charge in this utterly unclear situation was either genuinely confident in their own abilities, or far too confident in their own abilities.

Duke Claude turned his head slowly, his expression entirely flat: "Who are you?"

The young priest stood ramrod straight and introduced himself: "In response to the Duke, I am Father Corny from Hargrave pastoral district."

Claude looked at him: "You want to take charge of this matter?"

The two were about the same age, and neither looked over thirty. The confronting atmosphere made Shu Li want to internally supply them the line: "In the end this stage of the world belongs to young people."

But in reality, it was utterly abnormal for two people who had only been working for a few years to face off with such mutual disregard in front of a room full of seniors with decades of seniority. This was a highly novelistic scene. Shu Li accepted and took it in stride — if he could choose which channel to watch, he'd rather watch Deputy Archbishop Hugo's story of mid-to-late-life renewal. Because the plot and characterization were realistic, with an energy those Shu Li's age didn't have. Very warm and inspiring.

Father Corny obviously couldn't hear Shu Li's inner commentary. He gave a light nod, expression resolute.

Duke Claude, not interested in wasting further words, asked directly: "How long will it take you to investigate the case? I don't want any surprises at my wedding."

"Before midnight tomorrow, I will give you an answer."

Duke Claude stepped forward, his gaze boring straight through to Father Corny. His eyes were ice-cold like sword edges, and in the silence, they rang with a killing desire. Duke Claude's tone was flat as though scheduling tomorrow's breakfast: "The price of failure — I don't need to remind you." After this line, his gaze swept the gathered clergy, his voice indifferent: "Several people have died already — one or two more doesn't matter."

The air instantly seemed to freeze over. Shu Li felt a sinking in his chest. People who wanted to avoid involvement and didn't want to get tangled up in this — and people who did want to perform — had both been given a reason. Now that responsibility for presiding over the wedding had been handed to a seventy-year-old man, and investigating the case had been pushed to the brave young man, nobody else wanted to stick out their neck. It wasn't that any of them were truly incapable — it was that for the Duke, the church was a tool, and priests were pawns. His contempt for the church was unconcealed. Everyone understood perfectly — to make any move here was like stepping onto thin ice. One misstep and they were done.

The Duke hadn't come here to hear promises. To prevent Corny from running, or to control the entire Carson ecclesiastical district, he'd had his own cavalry surround the whole cathedral. After the Duke left, everyone remained standing where they were, seemingly still unable to grasp what they should be doing right now. Even Deputy Archbishop Hugo was absent. A good while later, Deacon Gideon looked at Father Corny and said: "Father Corny, do you really have a plan? I could barely breathe just now."

All eyes turned to the Father Corny who had spoken up. But Father Corny's gaze had landed firmly on Shu Li. Shu Li sensed an ominous premonition. Sure enough, Father Corny turned to him with a smile: "Father Symeon has told me that Father Alistair can see through people's hidden sins at a glance."

At this, Shu Li instinctively glanced toward Father Symeon. Father Symeon's whole face was ablaze with pride and excitement, as though if Father Corny didn't mention it, he himself would have been about to announce it to the world. Shu Li couldn't help sighing inwardly. He had now been dragged to the center from his spot on the margins. The only good thing was that if he got it wrong, at least it wouldn't be him who died. A flying arrow always hits the bird at the front. Shu Li was the second bird.

Even so, he wasn't about to lose his wits and enthusiastically agree to everything. "That's exaggeration. If help is needed, I will do my best."

The phrase "do my best" was already loaded with subjective leeway. Honestly, Shu Li had also been thinking about finding a breakthrough in this affair, and acting as Father Corny's assistant had its conveniences. But in reality, Father Corny had no actual power here, and from the mutual recriminations he had witnessed among the clergy, more than a few of them had done things best kept hidden. Getting them to cooperate was not going to be easy.

Especially since the person who had just died wasn't anyone they were personally connected to.

Father Corny's compliance also had Shu Li wanting to know what the priest had been thinking when he agreed. "What are Father Alistair's suggestions for now?" Father Corny asked.

"Shall we eat first?" Brief and to the point.

He was starving to death.

Technically the proper answer was that blood sugar drops made one's judgment and instincts unreliable and prone to inaccuracy. But Shu Li didn't want to be so blunt, and so he let his gaze sweep meaningfully over the people around them, and said in a voice warm and composed: "Once everyone has eaten, there will be energy to deal with what comes next."

Quite a few people around him relaxed at that and began slowly filing toward the dining hall. Unexpectedly, Duke Claude had not actually gone far. He had stayed at the tail of his cavalry formation — separated from the group heading to the dining hall by an entire courtyard. Shu Li hadn't noticed him at first. It was only when he felt as though his head was being intensely stared at — a faint, piercing ache — that he looked around in all directions and accidentally met Duke Claude's gaze. Duke Claude's expression didn't shift in the slightest. The two of them looked at each other across the courtyard in silence, for three or four seconds. Shu Li's heart skipped a beat, and a strange thought surfaced — could he possibly recognize the original Alistair? But before Shu Li could do anything further, Claude had already turned away calmly and left.

After dinner, each priest found an additional black cavalry officer assigned to accompany them. Beautiful name — protection. In reality, most likely surveillance.

The most unfortunate thing was that Shu Li found the officer assigned to him was the very one he'd had an unpleasant encounter with on the square on the day of arrival. Apparently this person was a small squad leader and had the right to assign subordinates to which district priest. Shu Li felt some wariness, but the other party kept a cold face and silence and made no outrageous moves. Shu Li decided to let his guard down and go about his business as normal.

And so now it was the morning of the sixth. The cavalry stood at the door, having been up all night, not showing a trace of exhaustion.

Shu Li lazily stayed in bed another five minutes before getting up, boiling water, washing up. The cavalry captain followed him step by step like a shadow. Hot water boiled, and Shu Li turned to look at the doorway and casually asked: "What's your name?"

The other didn't respond. Shu Li remembered then — the custom here was to introduce yourself before asking someone else's name.

So he said: "My name is Alistair."

The cavalry captain finally spoke, his voice low and cold, yet carrying a slight stiffness: "I know. From the day you arrived in Carson City, I've known. And you don't need to know my name."

"......" Shu Li had only wanted to make the atmosphere a little more congenial.

Since the other party didn't like it, forget it. Shu Li said nothing more and simply sipped his water slowly, savoring this rare moment of quiet. After all, today had no shortage of troubles waiting for him to deal with.

After a moment of silence, the cavalry captain couldn't help asking quietly: "Your method last night... will it actually work?"

In his mind he kept replaying the scene from the previous night. After Shu Li had only circled around the crime scene and the body twice, he had turned back to the main hall and said words that made everyone's blood run cold: "Tomorrow is the day of judgment. The Lord already knows who harbors evil intent. Tonight is the last chance for confession."

The cavalry captain had expected to see an inescapable verdict announced. Instead, Shu Li had paused and, in an even and gentle tone, full of compassion and goodwill, continued: "Those who are guilty — it would be best to confess early. The Lord... is still willing to give you one more chance."

At the time Shu Li's gaze had moved one by one over the assembled district priests, leaving no doubt — he was saying the criminal was among them. Yet an entire night had passed and no one had confessed. The cavalry captain was quite certain that if anyone truly had confessed, they would have known about it. And now the sun had already climbed above the white walls. Nothing had happened.

"Did you have another way of saying it?" the cavalry captain thought Shu Li's performance last night had been absurd, and even felt anxious on his behalf.

Listen to this! "Dong—" Even the bell tower's clock was chiming now.

Shu Li slowly placed his water cup back on the table, his expression as calm as ever: "Time's up."

He had barely risen to his feet when a cavalry officer came running from a distance, urgently reporting to the cavalry captain: "Lady Adalee has suddenly arrived."

The cavalry captain was astonished: "Why would she come here?!"