CH-060

Hearing there would be a divine judgment, the crowd gradually gathered.

The fire behind them had certainly been heartbreaking—but as the storehouse walls came crashing down one after another, the spreading flames were progressively smothered by the flying dust and sand. This also pressed down all the complex and tangled emotions in everyone's hearts.

What was done was done. They were powerless now.

Moreover, Father Aliss was about to find the culprit behind the storehouse fire, and the emotions had somewhere to vent.

And so they watched Father Aliss perform a divine consultation—even if that meant stepping into the church grounds they had always previously avoided.

Inside the church, rows of long-burning lamps stood quietly, their wicks submerged in golden amber-colored oil. The tiny flames flickered gently on the oil's surface like flower buds nurtured by soft light.

The light and shadow were soft and still like twilight, like a moment of eternity made to hold still. Tranquil and deep.

The altar's simple stone figure only cast its eyes downward—like it was asleep, or like it wasn't particularly concerned about the arrival of this crowd. But however that was, the noise outside the church seemed to vanish the moment one stepped inside.

It was as if people had unconsciously lowered their voices. Silence spread among the crowd. Perhaps it was their awe of this unfamiliar place—an unspoken reverence that kept them from raising their voices lightly.

Shu Li walking before the crowd paid little attention to how many people were following him—only when he turned did he see the church filled wall to wall, and he suddenly felt a strange sensation: the place was both familiar and distant, as if just out of reach.

But the countless gazes were like threads drawing him back into the reality of this small church.

Before the ritual began, Shu Li went to change into a formal cassock and took up a Bible.

Elder Yagg's family had heard of the fire accident early and rushed over anxiously to check on Cecilia's condition. Now they stood at their station on one side, still holding onto each other as if to confirm the tangible relief of this thing they had nearly lost.

In the front left stood Bishop Holm—nobody knew how he'd ended up in the front row. His eyes were burning sharply and fixed on Shu Li's face.

Beside Bishop Holm were Finnian and Leslie.

Both children gazed upward at Shu Li's every move.

The church kept filling up, the sitting spaces all occupied, the standing spaces crowded with curious onlookers—locals from the Savoie Parish, as well as traveling merchants who had come for the harvest festival.

—All of them here to witness the Lord's judgment.

Shu Li saw the crowd growing larger and looked up at the church entrance. Sheriff Reilly, maintaining order, had closed the door. Shu Li gave a nod and offered a helpless word of thanks to Sheriff Reilly.

"Tonight was meant to be a moment to celebrate the harvest—I would not willingly have disturbed this joy. But someone has committed a sin this night, casting a shadow over the village. If the culprit escapes, not only does everyone's anger have nowhere to go—this harvest festival itself will forever carry the mark of pain. I believe that those present came here for justice, and for the truth."

The moment these words fell, those who had just arrived and learned the preamble couldn't help murmuring—yet the moment Shu Li met their gaze, they instinctively pressed their mouths shut, or covered them with their hands.

The restlessness in the whole hall was like an invisible ripple passing through the crowd, making the atmosphere in the entire church increasingly solemn and tense.

Shu Li picked up a thick Bible from the altar—the format was clearly that of a sermon—and the non-believers in the crowd began exchanging glances, not knowing whether to stay where they were or make a quick exit.

But before they had made up their minds, Shu Li's voice began to rise: "In truth, in our church, reading scripture is like reading a letter from God. We believe God communicates with the world through it."

He spoke while making a show of flipping through it, head lowered.

The church echoed with his warm, resonant voice—like the golden fringe around a flame: neither blazing nor dazzling, yet sufficient to illuminate the dark.

"I also have doubts sometimes, but sometimes within the scriptures I find the answers to what I seek. In those moments I ask that He give me revelation."

With those words barely spoken, Shu Li tore a page from the Bible.

"RRRIP—" That crisp, clear tearing sound sliced through the air, cutting across everyone's eardrums—making the whole room hold its breath for an instant.

When Shu Li held up the paper, the crowd craned their necks to look—the page clearly still had text and illustrations on it. Anything but blank.

But this still wasn't over. Shu Li folded the torn page into a paper trumpet. Raising it high and snapping it sharply downward, the paper produced a startling crack. But at the same time, the inner fold of the paper also sprang outward—and what had been fully covered in text and illustration suddenly became a blank page.

This moment left the onlookers stunned.

Those at the back couldn't help pushing forward, wanting to see clearly—to judge whether their eyes had been playing tricks.

Shu Li displayed the blank page to the crowd. "Especially when I am seeking something on behalf of another, the Lord will hand me a blank letter to give to the aggrieved party to put forward their question."

As this sentence fell, Shu Li walked toward the village head with the letter paper.

Village head Bandt instinctively flinched at the letter paper, barely suppressing a certain resistance—but Shu Li said: "Can you put your question to the letter paper?"

Bandt hesitated, then instinctively wanted to ask with his eyes—Shu Li told him: "You only need to hold the letter paper in both hands and silently say in your heart, 'May I find the instigator of the storehouse fire.'"

"Do I need to address the Lord?"

Shu Li said the Lord loved the world and regardless of whether one was a believer or not, as long as one's heart was sincere—

Bandt took the letter paper and, following Shu Li's words, prayed softly: "May I find who set fire to the storehouse tonight." After saying this, he cupped the blank page in both hands and continued watching Shu Li.

Shu Li said: "Please pass it to the next person—one person's petition is not enough."

A voice rose: "Can people who aren't from the Savoie Parish participate too?"

In truth, they also wanted to touch that blank page.

Shu Li estimated the number of people and figured it wouldn't exceed eighty—at about three to four seconds per person, it shouldn't take too long. So he said: "Anyone who sincerely wishes the village well may participate."

And so the paper passed through the hands of many people amid tense or eager gazes. Even though they had already completed their silent prayers, they didn't look away—simply watching the paper move from one person to the next, as if it could truly hear the heart's desires.

In this process, some held their breath, some bowed their heads in continued prayer, and some pressed a hand unconsciously to their chest—as if afraid of missing a sacred moment.

When the paper finally returned to Shu Li's hands, the hall was almost completely silent, with only the soft rustling sound of paper as it moved between his fingers.

He raised his head, his expression solemn: "...The letter paper has already begun to grow warm."

A low, hushed wave of wonder immediately rose in the crowd. Some involuntarily took half a step forward, their eyes fixed on the letter paper.

As if afraid of disturbing something, he said softly: "This is the sign of a response. This has now become the Lord's automatic letter. A name will soon appear on this paper—the name of the culprit."

"Now, please close your eyes..."

Barely had his voice fallen when a sharp, impatient shout broke through: "Stop your tricks! Will you have everyone go crazy along with you?"

A commotion swept the crowd—the voice came from Bali, standing at the edge of the crowd. He had finally been unable to hold back his fury and shouted out.

His words landed like a stone smashing hard into the previously silent church. Some lowered their heads, some turned to look at him, and some felt a flicker of uncertainty in their eyes.

Indeed, he had voiced what many others were silently wondering.

Yet it was precisely because of that strange blank letter paper that no one had spoken up or echoed Bali. The air hung with a peculiar silence, as if everyone was standing at the threshold between belief and disbelief—one more piece of proof and they would fall to one side or the other.

Shu Li did not grow angry. He simply looked at Bali calmly, his eyes steady as water.

He asked: "What benefit does doing this bring me? Mr. Bali."

Shu Li had already determined the culprit back at the storehouse—

Judging by the fire pattern, the burning had been worst on the outer perimeter.

But this didn't necessarily indicate deliberate arson—it could also have been an accident.

At first, to deflect responsibility, Bali had blamed Leslie for arson.

This was natural logic.

But he had mentioned Leslie's carriage contained pitch blocks and pine resin on the way back to Savoie.

Only then had Shu Li noticed a charred smell in the air.

His first instinct was pitch. But he couldn't be certain it was pitch.

Because pitch smelled like coal tar—a smell he had occasionally encountered in ordinary life, especially in summer heat when asphalt roads gave off that distinctive smell. But he had never encountered the smell of raw pitch blocks.

However, when he had struck back at Bali, he had noticed the stain on the sole of Bali's shoe—and realized the possibility of pitch was higher.

Because pitch in its normal state is viscous—extremely adhesive. Once it gets on you it's nearly impossible to shake off. But pitch blocks are solid at room temperature—stepping on one wouldn't cause it to adhere to the sole of a shoe unless it had already been heated and softened by fire.

Yet Cecilia had said that before the fire broke out, she and Bali had been together the whole time.

So where and when had the pitch gotten onto his shoe?

Village head Bandt had said the old storehouse had not undergone any renovation—meaning it had not had the extra pitch waterproofing the makeshift storehouses had been given for the rainy weather.

In other words, logically speaking, Bali should have had no reason to come into contact with pitch.

So was this just an accident?

It shouldn't be an accident.

Because when Bandt asked whether anyone had seen how the fire started, not a single person answered. Yet knowing the entire storehouse was enclosed with no windows, how had anyone seen there were people inside?

The person who first came to ask for help had stated with certainty that Cecilia was trapped inside. And another person, just before Shu Li charged into the fire, when he confirmed whether there was anyone inside, also said with certainty there was.

Coincidentally, both of these people were roughly the same age.

This meant at least two people knew there was something arranged inside.

Yet Shu Li hadn't seen any expression suggesting a desire to put someone to death—otherwise he also would not have been puzzled, nor particularly suspicious about the reason behind the fire. On the contrary, they had been visibly anxious, until both people came out alive.

This was either an accidental misjudgment by two people, or a conspiracy between all three of them.

And connecting this to Cecilia's earlier strange request, Shu Li had asked Cecilia and Bali the reason for their private meeting.

Only then did Shu Li learn that Cecilia had been trying to gently turn down Bali. And because she wanted to create an impression that she was being refused by Shu Li—so she could justify staying in Carson City longer to earn enough money before coming back to the Savoie Parish.

She wanted to spend more time in Carson City, to live her own life first the way Sona did, before deciding about marriage.

She did not want to return to the Savoie Parish because of marriage.

Especially when—if nothing had happened—she would have married Bali. After all, Bali had shown genuine devotion, and his family situation wasn't bad: they had eight fields. After marrying, Cecilia would help manage the farmland—familiar work she knew well. The only downside was that Cecilia didn't like Bali, and didn't even want to mention his existence to the priest.

That had been before she had experienced life in Carson City.

But she had been ashamed of saying this out loud because she feared exposing her own selfishness, and had not been willing to confide it to Shu Li at first.

Yet precisely because of what Cecilia said, Shu Li finally confirmed the motive behind the whole incident—

Bali had been afraid of losing Cecilia, and so had wanted to stage a fire—a hero-saves-the-damsel scenario.

But what none of them had foreseen was that an enclosed wood-and-stone structure would burn far faster than expected—turning this into an accident.

...

Bali was struck momentarily speechless by Shu Li's question.

Right. If Father Aliss was only performing tricks, the one who would lose face was Father Aliss himself. So why had Bali jumped up so urgently to stop it?

Bishop Holm gave a cold snort, his tone cutting: "Could it be a guilty conscience? Or are you afraid the Lord's chosen name will be your own? Why the rush?"

Bali's expression changed immediately. His mouth opened and closed, but not a single word came out. "..."

Though some people were still not entirely convinced, Bali's sudden outburst had been far too conspicuous.

Shu Li placed the still-unopened "letter from God" solemnly into Bandt's hands. "Village Head, please reveal the Lord's will."

The air froze for an instant.

Bandt hesitated briefly, took a deep breath, finally made up his mind, and slowly opened the envelope.

The paper rustled. Everyone held their breath.

He looked down—and immediately his expression shifted, the corner of his eye twitching violently. He raised his eyes and looked at the two young men standing beside Bali, his voice dropping low yet brooking no doubt: "The two of you..."

Bali's expression changed abruptly. He immediately stepped back sideways, putting distance between himself and those nearby—as if staying a second longer would infect him with disease.

This single movement instantly ignited the atmosphere.

The two young men's expressions also froze—then their emotions collapsed and they broke out cursing: "Bali! You came up with the plan! You had us help you stage your hero-saves-the-girl scenario. And now you're washing your hands clean?!"

"We only assisted you! The pitch on the outside of the storehouse wall—you spread that yourself, Bali!!"

Bali, face crimson, fired back at high speed: "You're the ones who lit it and you want to blame me?! The records for collecting pitch have your names on them!!"

"You ungrateful scoundrel!" the man shouted back in fury. "Just because you didn't personally light the fire doesn't mean you're innocent? You think you can kick us aside now and get away clean?! Dream on!"

The three of them completely lost control of their emotions—very nearly coming to blows.

Village head Bandt spoke at this moment—his voice resonating like a great bell struck, making everyone instinctively open their eyes wide.

Because what they heard was—

"The paper only says, 'Kai, Joan—when the letter paper passed through your hands just now, you did not pray.'"

Shu Li added lightly: "The paper didn't say who started the fire."

"But as you can see—the truth has come out by itself."

Those two brief sentences landed like lit fuses, detonating the silent hall.