CH-043

Through their fragmentary exchange, Shu Li gathered that the new Duchess had also come to the cathedral.

As for the reason, even they weren't clear. Let alone Shu Li, who had only caught a few scattered words. As the leader, the black cavalry captain had no choice but to personally go to receive her — or to intercept the new Duchess at the cathedral entrance, to prevent further complications. So he handed off the freckled young cavalry officer who had come to report to stand guard over Shu Li. "Keep a close eye on Father Alistair."

At the order, the freckled little cavalry officer snapped to attention and called back loudly: "Yes, Captain!"

So the moment the captain left, the little cavalry officer immediately put on the expression of someone about to stare down a villain until they stood trial, and glared fiercely at Shu Li.

Shu Li privately thought — it had only just seemed like his relationship with that captain had warmed up slightly, and now he saw it had been an illusion all along. Still, the other party's attitude wasn't the point. In any case, they had no authority to restrict Shu Li's movements, and would not interfere with his plans.

The little cavalry officer's righteous-evil-hating expression made absolutely no impression on Shu Li.

Shu Li had barely shifted his gaze from the freckled officer when footsteps came pattering down the corridor. It was Father Symeon, who had found his way to Shu Li's room, his face written with anxiety and uncertainty. From the wrinkles at his knees and trouser cuffs, he had clearly been kneeling in prayer all night — and had only come when the bell tower rang out.

"Father Alistair, did anyone go to the confessional to confess last night?" Father Symeon had spent all night praying that the culprit would have a moment of clarity, would bravely come before the Lord to confess their sin and ask for His forgiveness — rather than continuing to err further. "I didn't hear any movement at all last night."

Never mind him not hearing any sound — even the black cavalry officers guarding the district priests hadn't seen any movement. Whether or not anyone was willing to confess, they certainly didn't want to make their crime public. In full view of everyone, who would want to walk out of their room and, under cavalry escort, walk themselves to the confessional to confess? If they had that kind of courage to confess, they would have acknowledged their guilt in front of the Duke already. Father Corny had promised to deliver the truth — so someone needed to take the fall.

Father Symeon was deeply disappointed in the culprit: "Even though Father Alistair was willing to give them such a good opportunity. As long as they had confessed, the Lord would have forgiven their sin, and they could have walked through the rest of their life more freely."

Shu Li's view was that if the culprit could escape this time scot-free, they would absolutely live happily ever after.

Father Symeon, after saying all this, also acknowledged that his words were all wishful thinking now. So he asked: "Father Alistair, there's one more thing I'd like to ask for your help with..."

Shu Li looked at him, puzzled: "Go ahead."

"I haven't had any water since yesterday morning — could I borrow some from you?"

Shu Li immediately understood — Father Symeon had drunk bad water that morning and gotten a terrible stomach, and then with the chain of events, hadn't had a single sip of water. He'd only had some fruit with Shu Li to quench his thirst. He had prayed all night and his lips were parched.

Before Shu Li could reply, Father Corny's voice also reached them from down the corridor — he had come to check in with Shu Li upon hearing the bell tower ring. Hearing their exchange, he said: "Father Symeon, you really don't need to be so polite about this. I live right near you — if you wanted water, you could have come from my side anytime. I have a whole flask left from yesterday that I didn't drink."

Father Symeon felt a bit embarrassed. He didn't want to say outright that he and Father Corny weren't that close — and besides, he had a filter through which he viewed Shu Li, feeling that everything around him had been purified, and only water from Shu Li's room would really be drinkable.

Shu Li, seeing Father Symeon's discomfort, smiled: "Father Symeon knows I usually like to drink hot water — he probably wanted a cup of hot water too."

Then he said to Father Symeon: "Right now the water has just started to cool down — if you still want it hot, you'd better drink it quickly."

Father Symeon used the opportunity and stepped into Shu Li's room.

Shu Li's gaze only followed him for a few seconds before Father Corny's voice sounded close beside him: "Fortunate that yesterday everyone had water in their flasks. If they hadn't, and if the Archbishop's death had also prevented people from leaving to find other water sources, combined with Ecclesiastical Prefect Damian's strict ban on going out, not to mention the cavalry watching closely — getting water would have been nearly impossible."

Shu Li listened with one ear while watching Father Corny's expression, also picking up the thread of the conversation: "I recall there should be other wells — going to draw water from those would be fine."

"In a situation like yesterday's, who would have the presence of mind for that? Besides, you'd need to ask the local clergy where the other wells were — and nobody here was that familiar with the place." Father Corny sighed to himself. "Only Father Alistair was different — remarkably calm."

Father Corny paused, and then, with his gaze on the Father Symeon inside the room, his tone shifted sharply — no longer as gentle as the words just before, as though the gentleness had only been a prelude. "By the way — when Deputy Archbishop Hugo collapsed, you were still there. But after dinner, you were gone..."

Shu Li was completely unhurried, because he had anticipated what Corny was going to say. He had sent Herens away precisely because things in the cathedral were growing more and more complicated, and he had wanted Herens to leave. The fact that Herens had acted on his instructions didn't feel surprising, and nothing seemed wrong with it.

"Is there something to be nervous about?" he asked.

Hearing this, Father Corny had clearly intended to keep pressing — yet this one line had caught him off guard. His composure held with some effort and he maintained a steady expression. "I thought about it all last night and finally think I understand something of what Father Alistair intended. We'll meet at the agreed judgment time."

This reasoning came out of nowhere. Shu Li still wanted to ask further, but Father Corny had already turned and left — as though he had already grasped the truth and had no further need to linger with Shu Li. Shu Li stared at his retreating back for a good while. His instincts told him Father Corny was not as genuinely kind and approachable as he appeared. Once he had achieved his goal, he would drop the pretense entirely. Forget it. They would meet again shortly anyway.

Shu Li turned back and looked at Father Symeon — who was drinking water in one long, satisfying "glug glug glug." And so Shu Li stood beside him and patiently waited.

Once Father Symeon had drunk enough, Shu Li also suggested having breakfast. His appetite was so good by Father Symeon's estimation that if nothing unpleasant were happening, Shu Li would certainly be eating even more happily right now. And then thinking that perhaps it was because Shu Li hadn't had enough to eat in Savoie pastoral district, Father Symeon felt even less like eating.

Shu Li was entirely unaware that the ascetic Father Symeon's already tender heart had grown even more sensitive and fragile on Shu Li's account. He only asked, curious: "Is the direction a knight came from important?"

In Shu Li's view, a priest and his knight were two separate roles and two different specializations — partners, companions, teammates, squad members — but both existed as independent entities. Yet the "knight" in Father Corny's presentation seemed inseparable from the priest, like a pair fused into one destiny, two halves of a whole, meant to move together and act together. "Oh, right — where did Herens go?" Father Symeon only now realized Herens had also disappeared.

Yesterday's cascade of events had been completely overwhelming for Father Symeon. His focus had been solely on Father Alistair himself, and he hadn't registered Herens at all. "I had him leave because I felt things in the cathedral were getting a little suspicious," Shu Li said straightforwardly. "Partly as a precaution." He had internally also planned to find his own escape route, but after talking with Deputy Archbishop Hugo, he felt leaving the frail old man alone in the ecclesiastical cathedral was too risky. And with the fire and everything else spreading, there was no safety anywhere — overarching calamity meant no escaping it. All in all, Shu Li had decided to go with the flow of the main party.

Father Symeon said, puzzled: "Was it to send him out to find outside help?"

Shu Li couldn't help smiling: "How is that possible?" Shu Li didn't know any important figures. Who could he even ask for help?

Father Symeon's expression, hearing this, grew increasingly serious: "How could a knight leave the priest in the middle of a crisis and run away on his own? This is dereliction of duty — a desecration of the sacred! For Herens to do such a thing, if word gets out, he'd be expelled from the church. Just thinking about it makes me feel it's too outrageous!"

Saying this with such feeling, his voice unintentionally rose. Noticing the others around turning to look, Shu Li reassured him: "This is my arrangement — nothing more. I can't say more."

Father Symeon was immediately calmed by Shu Li's one line, his expression filling with reverence: "This is worthy of Father Alistair! I'm reminded again of how you once arranged for the villagers to go and help the stranded traveling caravan — a miracle!"

"...?"

Father Symeon was speaking so admiringly that Shu Li still hadn't quite registered: "Did it feel similar?"

"...how did you achieve those miracles? I just don't know how much I still don't know about!" Father Symeon said.

"......"

Before Shu Li could respond, the bell tower rang again.

It was the judgment time agreed upon the night before. Shu Li said a couple of words to Father Symeon. "Right — can you bring that for me?" Father Symeon asked, puzzled. "You want me to go get it for you?"

"Thank you for the trouble. We'll meet in the conference hall in a moment."

The agreed venue for the judgment was in yesterday's conference hall.

"Yes, yes!" Father Symeon nodded repeatedly.

*

The conference hall was actually a two-story space. However, the upper floor was an open mezzanine — its main purpose was to open the ceiling and let people's gaze reach the colorful frescoes at the top of the building. This too reflected the flourishing financial capacity of the Carson ecclesiastical district over the past ten years. The kind of squandering resources on things decorative and impractical in spaces that ordinary people wouldn't waste was, after all, a classic expression of wealth. The room's table was a circular one, well-suited for hearings, with a hollow center through which people could pass.

At this moment, the court-appointed investigator was already standing in the center, his expression nothing like its earlier amiable warmth. Father Corny watched each priest entering one by one with a face of stern scrutiny, pulling everyone immediately into the gravity of the judgment's atmosphere. Everyone was very quiet. The silence didn't come from this small priest alone — it also came from the heavily armed guards on the upper mezzanine. This like an opportunity. This was a long-awaited moment. And now here was someone he could make an example of, someone he could hold accountable.

Word had spread fast. When Shu Li entered the conference hall, he saw that beyond the priests down below, the second floor had a thin gauze curtain that was already drawn — and behind it, Lady Adalee. After the chaos at the cathedral, the soon-to-be Duchess had come to inquire about how things stood, and had happened to arrive just in time for the hearing. The clergymen had arranged for her and her entourage to observe from upstairs. No one had refused. Though as a secular noblewoman Adalee had no holy orders and no clerical authority, her father was the highest figure beneath the Pope, with vast worldly power. So the secular daughter of the Archbishop wielded even greater worldly power than a local ecclesiastical district. Besides, she was the Duke's wife — and in the Northern Lands where divine and secular authority were separated, all the clergy still had to defer to her.

Shu Li only casually swept his gaze over the gauze curtain and was about to move on when he stopped — for in the shadowed corner behind the curtain, a small child's hand poked out, waving back and forth. Clearly making greeting gestures at him.

"......" Finnian? This child was simply too courageous for his own good! How had he gotten in here with such nerve, in a situation like this?

Shu Li was both irritated and amused. Before he could look for more than a moment, a muffled scolding from a nearby clergy member came: "Keep your eyes down! Lady Adalee's purity and nobility — how dare you stare at her so brazenly!"

It was such a misunderstanding. Shu Li hadn't dared look any further, and absolutely couldn't wave back at Finnian either.

Once the last person had entered the conference room, the hall was packed with all the ecclesiastical district's clergy. The space was tight. After the last person filed in, the moment Father Corny's first voice rang out, it was like a sudden summer storm's lightning bolt — splitting the hall's air: "Father Alistair, please confess."

The room erupted. Even the gauze curtain on the second floor fluttered in the commotion, as though those behind it were also trembling.

Shu Li was undaunted, and only looked back at Father Corny steadily.

Father Corny didn't give anyone else a chance to voice skepticism, speaking up immediately: "Father Alistair — you actually knew from the beginning who the culprit was, didn't you?"

Shu Li made no expression. Because to him, managing believers was something he could do with his eyes closed. He wasn't in a hurry to refute — he just wanted to hear what Father Corny had to say. "Right, last night I kept wondering — Father Alistair wasn't nearly as thorough in his investigation as expected. He barely spent five minutes looking before he was done. Yet he quickly said his investigation was complete, hinting the criminal was among us, and telling the criminal to go confess. Otherwise we would face judgment. If the Lord gave Father Alistair the ability to see through people's sins, he should have named the culprit on the spot. Shouldn't he?"

Shu Li thought this was a very good argument.

Right now, being unable to name anyone meant either Shu Li's ability was a sham and he never had any "power to see through other people's sins" — meaning his previous deeds in Savoie pastoral district were all luck or human contrivance — or it meant Shu Li knew the culprit and had deliberately not said so, which meant Shu Li was intentionally shielding the killer. Both of these conclusions weakened Shu Li's credibility and position. Shu Li had already guessed what Corny was going to say. Corny wanted to say Shu Li was shielding Herens. Admittedly, the most straightforward thing Shu Li could do right now would be to name the culprit. But if 1+1 could produce an effect greater than 10, why not?

Shu Li didn't rush to refute — he let Corny keep going, guiding him forward: "So your view is that I know who the culprit is but I'm hiding it?"

"That's right." Father Corny swept his gaze around the room. "Last night the situation was chaotic, and I don't think many people noticed — but please think back calmly now: where exactly did Father Alistair's knight, Herens, go?"

Father Corny's tone deepened, his gaze sharp: "A knight is the priest's eyes, the priest's hands, the extension of the priest's will. A knight should be one with the priest — yet he chose to leave Father Alistair at this critical moment. Is that a normal situation? Doesn't this suggest that the priest realized his own knight was the culprit, and upon hearing the man's confession, couldn't bring himself to see punishment fall upon him — and so chose to let him go? And now Father Alistair's talk of judgment is simply creating a smokescreen."

"Such things have precedent in history after all!"

These words were forceful and resonant. Even without turning his head, Shu Li could see people were exchanging sideways glances — expressions of shock, confusion, bewilderment, even righteous anger at Shu Li for quietly letting a criminal escape. "Even if it's a blessing it won't be a disaster — Herens' motive for killing. If we use the demon possession argument, that's baseless. You should know that Herens's daily meals include salt. Salt wards off demons — everyone knows this."

Unexpectedly, Father Corny wasn't flustered on this point. He pressed forward, step by step. Whether it was genuinely for the truth, or because just saying Herens's name had his whole body on edge, Shu Li couldn't tell. "Does Father Alistair not know, or is he pretending not to know?"

"Herens is a knight of a certain bishop in the Grand Cathedral — who abandoned his own bishop in the middle of his duties without explanation, disappeared, and hasn't been seen since. This kind of betrayal is a disgrace the church will not abide. Yet now he has reinvented himself as Father Alistair's knight — is this coincidence, or deliberate concealment?"

His voice grew more piercing: "The truth is — he naturally didn't want anyone to know this shameful past. Unfortunately, secrets will out. A bishop still recognized him — and so, rejecting his faith, he turned on the Carson Archbishop in a fit of murderous rage. Is that really so strange? Think about it — a man who couldn't even hold his loyalty, whose faith inside must have been brittle and fragile, barely surviving, nothing but a hollow name."

"Such things have precedent in history after all!" Father Corny planted all the seeds of suspicion on the one and only person in suspicion — Shu Li. "Think back — the person who was also present when pulling out the Archbishop's body was that knight. Was Herens there too?"

Once such a voice emerged, it was like a spark finding tinder — burning endlessly. To build a person into an iron-clad criminal required nothing more than one doubt piling on another. Shu Li stayed perfectly calm, and only swept his gaze around the room before saying one sentence that silenced the entire hall. "I am willing to swear before the Lord that I am innocent, and that Herens is innocent."

This single sentence was an almost lethal blow to believers. The air was instantly sucked clean of all sound. The murmurs toward Shu Li softened at once.

Father Corny found the entire shift in the room inexplicable: "Some people even dare to lie to the Lord — doesn't Father Alistair dare?"

"I don't dare," Shu Li's gaze was still as water, like an unmovable wall, and he looked at Duke Corny, continuing: "I am a devout believer. Lying to the Lord is something I would absolutely never dare consider."

"......" Father Corny felt Shu Li's words were simply absurd.

"Because of Father Corny's words, I now find myself thinking—" Shu Li said quietly. "What kind of person would think that a devout believer might lie before the Lord?"

This moral high-ground move instantly pinned Father Corny. He couldn't say a word in response — and didn't dare say one. Because the people around him were now looking at him with increasingly suspicious eyes.

"Is this what someone who truly believes would say?"

"That's right, I never even doubted Father Alistair's word just now."

"Father Corny, why would you think that about Father Alistair?"

Shu Li returned Father Corny's gaze with quiet, steady eyes. Even without turning his head, he could see the people around him directing sidelong stares at Corny — confusion mounting, then suspicion beginning to build.

Granted, some people would be clear-headed enough to think — of course believers can lie. People lie to the Lord all the time, some believers do it right in front of Him. But this was not something that could be said openly. This was like an unspoken industry rule — it was not something anyone admitted publicly. Much like no one would say outright that they themselves were sinners. Genuinely devout people would not allow such a thing to exist. Because this was a desecration of their faith, their church, the God within their hearts. Father Corny was trembling slightly amid the crowd's condemnation — whether from fury, fear, displeasure, or discomfort — doing everything he could to suppress his own emotions.

Shu Li let his eyelashes move slightly — still unhurried, still not rushing. He had known from the moment he walked into this conference room — from the very beginning of this world — how to use faith and human nature to keep himself in an unassailable position. He didn't rush to speak, just waited to hear what Father Corny would say. "Because of what Father Corny said, I now find myself thinking—" Shu Li said gently. "Genuinely devout believers — how would they think that someone might dare lie before the Lord?"

A moral reversal. It had nailed Father Corny to a post he could not argue from. He said nothing, didn't dare say anything — because the people around him were now watching him with eyes that had grown increasingly doubtful. Shu Li then stepped forward to offer Corny a way out.

One stick, one sweet reward.

"I believe Father Corny is also seeking the truth, and I thank him for being willing to dare question those around him in the name of seeking the truth. I believe he too is feeling uncomfortable right now — because speaking words like this takes courage." Shu Li looked out at the assembled clergy: "I believe from Father Corny's efforts everyone has realized how complex and difficult this case is. So to find the culprit, our own resources alone aren't enough — we also need the Lord's guidance. This is precisely why I called for this judgment." He said it was divine guidance — and then from his pocket produced a set of handmade playing cards. A qualified amateur magician always kept a deck of cards on him. Over these past months he had filed down a full set of thin-as-paper wooden cards, fifty-four in total. The card designs were limited by his drawing ability and consisted of simple geometric patterns. He felt the deck was sufficient for what he needed now. Shu Li quietly spread all fifty-four blank wooden cards out on the table. As his fingers moved each card, the cards seemed to respond like ocean waves — smoothly following and flipping to the other side. That side was also blank.

Everyone around held their breath watching Shu Li's movements, unclear about what he intended to do. After demonstrating his deck, Shu Li raised his hand and extended an invitation to everyone: "Please everyone close your eyes together, pray to the Lord, and ask Him to assist us in finding the culprit."

Father Symeon was most cooperative of all, immediately kneeling, hands clasped together. Seeing this example, those around him followed one by one — prayer murmuring low and deep through the conference hall, like some mysterious incantation knocking softly against the hearts of those without faith. The cavalry who had been coldly observing couldn't help but look up with curiosity. After ten seconds of prayer, Shu Li joined his palms together, and all the clergy opened their eyes. Shu Li's fingertips lightly touched the row of wooden cards again, and began moving slowly from left to right. "Lord, tell me — is the culprit who killed the Archbishop and Ecclesiastical Prefect here among us?" As he spoke, his hand swept smoothly across the edges. The cards responded one by one, flipping once more. Yet in this calm motion, something that made people's blood run cold happened quietly! Among the originally all-blank wooden cards, one had flipped to reveal a clearly etched demon figure — grinning upright, as though staring straight back at the crowd through the card.

The priest closest to Shu Li gasped violently, face instantly drained of color, clutching his chest: "God save me, Lord! I saw something!"

"A demon has appeared on the wooden card!"

This quiet revelation hit the devout elderly believers like a lightning bolt — several staggered backwards, whispering prayers, fingers shaking as they made the sign of the cross. Others dropped to their knees, foreheads to the ground, faces white as paper. Even some who had gone entirely silent stood frozen in place.

Even the black cavalry who didn't believe in anything wore grim, steel-gray expressions.

But Shu Li's warm voice flowed into people's hearts like warm water: "There is no need to be afraid — this is the Lord coming to give us guidance."

Hearing that it was the Lord's concrete manifestation, the faithful felt the warmth of courage fill their hearts once more. "We need to find the culprit hidden among us," Shu Li continued. He repeated the earlier motion — the demon card was already turned face-down, and a card showing the number "four" appeared. This impact was smaller, and people only murmured in wonder, eyes moving back and forth between the cards and Shu Li, wanting to know what this meant. "Four refers to the four o'clock direction — clockwise." Shu Li glanced in the four o'clock direction. "The culprit is over there."

The clergy standing in the four o'clock direction all wanted to flee — but Shu Li stopped them: "Don't move."

The others were equally anxious that the culprit would run. Dozens of people all locked eyes on the ten or so clergy in the four o'clock direction: "Anyone who runs is guilty of a guilty conscience."

At this, nobody dared make a reckless move.

Shu Li collected all the wooden cards. He looked toward the direction where the suspects stood.

His gaze was steady. His voice carried an unstoppable authority: "Please, all of you — line up in a row."

He stepped toward the suspects, his footsteps resonating in the deathly silent hall. "Everyone around — please clear a path."

The crowd parted as though moved by an invisible force, slowly stepping back — a "judgment road" leading straight to the depths of everyone's hearts gradually unfolding. Shu Li walked up to that row of suspects and held up a wooden card — showing its blank, spotless face to the crowd. He slowly placed it in the first person's palm, and calmly said: "After clasping your hands over it, please pray."

That person trembled, closed their eyes, and lips moved in murmur. Then it was the second, the third... Shu Li repeated the same motion each time — precise and unhurried as a clock. By the time he reached the fifteenth person, the air had already congealed. The crowd held their breath. All they could hear was the quiet rustle of Shu Li dispensing cards, and heartbeats that had grown louder and louder, almost drowning out all other sound.

After the last movement was complete, Shu Li raised his head, his gaze moving across the onlookers — not just those standing on the first floor, cavalry and clergy alike, but also those who had stepped out from behind the curtain, gathering at the second-floor balcony or the staircase. On the second-floor railing, Finnian was practically hanging over it, his eyes gleaming like stars, his excitement impossible to suppress. And beside him, Leslie, entirely unlike Finnian — his gaze locked on Shu Li, hand gripping the railing tight, knuckles white from the force.

Shu Li lowered his eyes slightly. His voice flowed out like a clear spring — quiet yet unmistakably distinct: "We have all heard the story of the twelve apostles. On that night, one man was tempted by thirty silver coins and betrayed the one he followed."

He looked up. "Do you still remember — which apostle was the traitor?"

Some said it aloud, others said it only in their hearts — but without exception, everyone gave the same answer: "The twelfth."

Shu Li paused, and swept his gaze across the row of suspects — his voice calm and resolute: "Each of you — please reveal your card."

The first person trembled as they flipped it, joy flooding their face: "It's a five!"

Then one card after another was revealed: "It's a three!" "Thank God, it's a one!" "Eleven! The Lord says I am innocent!"

Sounds of relief and celebration rose one after another — like a tide that had been suppressed for too long finally breaking free. People prayed fervently, some even beginning to embrace each other in their excitement.

Yet amid this warm, surging wave, one person didn't move. His face had drained to a bloodless white. Cold sweat tracked down from his temples, and his fingers were locked rigidly around the card he hadn't yet turned over.

Shu Li stepped toward him slowly, stopping before him in the midst of the silence. He sighed first — then said, low and clear: "Got you."

He clasped the man's elbow at once. "Number 12." He read the culprit's card aloud. The seized Deacon Gideon shuddered violently, his whole body going rigid under the crowd's gaze. All the color had fled his face, and in that moment Gideon looked as though his soul had been drained from him, leaving only a pale shell. His lips trembled, and he let out a wail of denial: "It's not! I didn't kill anyone! It's not me—!"