If he could figure out how to return to the organization, how to spin a plausible story, and how to hold his ground without showing any flaws when questioned, then he would truly be someone worth bringing back.
This 6th-Rank powerhouse did not follow Jiang Lin immediately.
He lingered on the spot for a moment, and only after confirming that the altar's ruins had been completely destroyed by the reagent, leaving no traceable marks behind, did he leisurely follow in the direction Jiang Lin had left, maintaining a distance that would absolutely prevent him from being discovered.
Over the next two days, he continued to observe from the shadows.
Jiang Lin after leaving the altar did not return directly to Anvil Town. Instead, he took a detour and plunged into a hilly region with complex terrain.
He stopped in a depression covered with thickets, using a dagger to chop some branches and hastily put together a simple shelter.
Then, he sat down against the rocky wall. He didn't start a fire or move around, simply staying there quietly.
Occasionally, he would stand up and climb to a nearby higher slope to peer into the distance.
It was as if he were checking whether there were any pursuers or patrols around, before returning to the depression to continue sitting.
During those two days, he did not eat anything.
With his disguised 3rd-Rank early stage cultivation, going without food for two days wouldn't be fatal, but it would make him look weak.
On the morning of the third day, when he walked out of the depression, his footsteps were noticeably heavier than before.
His face was also a few shades paler, and his lips were dry and chapped, giving him the wretched look of someone who had endured two days in the wilderness without food or water.
Watching him from afar as he walked along the dirt road toward Anvil Town, the 6th-Rank powerhouse already had his judgment.
He hadn't fled, hadn't tried to take a long detour out of the area, and hadn't shown any guilt or desperation to escape.
Instead, he had chosen the riskiest path: returning to the organization to face whatever might come.
Moreover, he had deliberately made himself look like he had indeed suffered.
This control over details showed that he had planned in advance exactly what state he needed to be in when appearing before others.
“Bold, capable, and knows how to clean up after himself.”
After Jiang Lin walked along the dirt road for nearly an hour, the gray walls of Anvil Town finally loomed as a faint silhouette in the morning mist.
He stopped at the entrance of the town, deliberately crouching by a roadside ditch to scoop up a handful of water to wash his face.
He then wiped the water from his face with his sleeve, making himself look even more disheveled.
Only then did he stand up and drag his slightly heavy steps into the town.
Anvil Town's morning was as quiet as usual.
The teahouse on the corner had just taken down its doorboards, and the owner was crouching at the entrance, poking the charcoal in the stove with iron tongs.
A few early-rising women carrying vegetable baskets were chatting in low voices by the roadside.
Everything was exactly the same as when he had left three days ago.
When Jiang Lin walked into the church's side courtyard, two people were crouching at the base of the wall, organizing a coil of rope.
The person on duty at the side door of the church was a young gray-robed attendant. Seeing him in this state, the attendant was taken aback for a moment before recognizing him.
“Drake? You're back? Where is Lord Cole and the others?”
Jiang Lin stopped, raising his pale, weary face. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but he seemed at a loss for words.
After a few moments of silence, he replied in a raspy, slightly fearful voice, “Something went wrong.”
“What happened?”
“The altar had just been set up, and before we could even begin, a group of people arrived.”
Jiang Lin's voice carried the exhaustion of a survivor. “They wore leather armor and carried the badges of the Green Valley Kingdom's border patrol. We were surrounded before we could even react. Lord Cole led the others to fight them, and I ran out in the chaos, trying to circle around to support them from the side. But...”
He paused, lowering his head.
“By the time I circled around, they were already gone. There was blood on the ground, but no bodies. I don't know if they're dead or if they were taken away. I hid nearby for two days, not daring to return too early for fear that the patrol was still searching.”
He looked up, his voice tinged with panic. “Sir, Lord Cole and the others... could they have...”
The young attendant's expression shifted. Obviously, this news was beyond his ability to handle.
He muttered, “Wait here for a moment,” then turned and quickly walked through the church's side door.
Jiang Lin leaned against the wall, panting slightly, looking exactly like someone naturally reacting to physical exhaustion.
He looked down at the tips of his boots, which were stained with dried mud and grass juice—something he had deliberately smeared on while in the hilly depression over the past two days.
Before long, the young attendant returned, followed by the middle-aged, gray-robed deacon.
Standing under the porch, the deacon's gaze fell upon Jiang Lin. He sized him up for a good while before speaking. “Come in.”
Jiang Lin followed the deacon through the side corridor and into the small room at the back of the church where he had previously been questioned.
The deacon sat down behind the desk, gestured for him to take a seat on the opposite chair, and then remained silent for a moment before asking in an emotionless tone, “You say you ran.”
“Yes.”
“When did Cole discover the patrol?”
“Shortly after it got dark. We had just finished setting up the altar and were planning to rest for an hour before starting. Lord Cole sent two people to guard the perimeter. Not long after they left, they ran back and said there were lights to the north, looking like a patrol with torches on a night watch. Then, Lord Cole told us to pack up and prepare to retreat, but before we could even move, they arrived.”
“How many people?”
“I couldn't see clearly. It was too dark; I only saw the shadows of torches. There were at least a dozen of them.”
“Cole told you to support them, and you went. Then what?”
“I circled halfway around, wanting to approach from the side. But by the time I climbed onto that slope, the fight below was already over. There was blood on the ground, and everyone was gone. The torches were out too, so I couldn't see anything. I didn't dare stay long, so I plunged into the forest and kept running until dawn.”
He paused, his voice dropping lower. “I hid in the mountains for two days, not daring to come out. My dry rations were lost while I was running, so I only drank some stream water over the last two days. I only dared to return today.”
The deacon leaned back in his chair, staring at him without saying a word.
Jiang Lin kept his head down, his hands resting on his knees, his fingers slightly clutching his hem, looking exactly like a young man who had just gone through a fright and hadn't fully recovered yet.
The deacon fell silent for a moment, and finally said, “Go back and rest. Do not wander around for the next two days. Wait for the higher-ups to send someone to investigate this matter.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Jiang Lin stood up and walked out of the room.
He returned to the small building along the corridor, pushed open the door to his room, walked in, sat down on the edge of the bed, and closed the door behind him.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he maintained his exhausted posture and slowly exhaled a long breath.
Meanwhile, in the basement at the back of the church, the figure in the worn, dark gray robe had silently appeared before the deacon.
Upon seeing him, the deacon immediately stood up and bowed his head slightly. “My Lord.”
The man in the worn robe waved his hand, signaling him to sit.
“How much of what that Drake just told you do you believe?”
The deacon fell silent for a moment. “About seventy percent.”
“Which seventy percent?”
“That he escaped and got lost for two days—those parts are true. His aura indeed shows signs of prolonged fasting, and the mud and grass stains on his clothes are genuine.” The deacon paused. “But as for how Cole and the others actually died, and the patrol he mentioned, I have no way of verifying.”
“There's no need to verify.” The man in the worn robe took a dark red rune stone from his sleeve, placed it on the table, and gently pushed it toward the deacon. “I followed him. From Anvil Town all the way to the vicinity of that village, I was there the entire time.”
The deacon's pupils contracted slightly.
“Cole and the others are all dead,” the man in the worn robe said flatly. “He killed them. Using the same method he used during his initiation assessment, he stripped everyone of their combat capability, then activated the altar and sacrificed them all.”
The deacon's expression froze.
The man in the worn robe continued, “Then he cleaned up the scene and left. He hid outside for two days, starved himself, made himself look completely wretched, and only returned today. And then, right to your face, he blamed Cole and the others' disappearance on a border patrol of the Green Valley Kingdom that doesn't even exist.”
The deacon opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end, he only asked in a low voice, “My Lord, do you plan to...”
“I need to make a trip to Shadow City,” the man in the worn robe said, standing up. “This Drake possesses the exact traits the higher-ups are looking for. I will personally go and inform the Bishop.”
He turned and walked into a secret door in the corner of the basement. A faint, dark red glow leaked from behind the door before it shut, leaving no further sound.
The deacon stood in place, watching the secret door slowly close. Then, he sat back down in his chair and lightly tapped his fingers on the table twice.
Three days later.
Shadow City, Eastern Diocese Headquarters of the secret cult.
This city was more than ten times larger than Anvil Town, with wide streets and buildings mostly constructed from dark gray stone.
The walls were carved with fine rune patterns, reflecting a dull luster under the overcast sky.
The headquarters was located in the center of the city, a black stone cathedral flanked by four spires.
The massive, twisted crest above the main entrance spanned the entire width of the wall. Every line of the crest squirmed slowly, as if life itself were flowing within it.
The man in the worn robe walked in through the side door of the cathedral, ascended the spiral stone staircase to the third floor, and knocked on a heavy wooden door.
A raspy voice came from inside: “Come in.”
The room was spacious, yet it held almost no furniture.
Sitting on a large chair against the wall was a slender, middle-aged man wearing a deep purple robe. The robe was devoid of any decoration, lacking even the insignia of the secret cult.
His face was gaunt, with high cheekbones and deeply sunken eyes, looking as though he suffered from a chronic lack of sleep.
However, his eyes were dark gold, and a thin, snake-tongue-like sliver of dark red light occasionally flickered deep within his pupils.
He set down the stack of parchment he was flipping through and looked toward the door.
“What is it?”
The man in the worn robe stood at the door and bowed slightly. “Lord Bishop, I would like to recommend someone to you.”
“Speak.”
“This man is named Drake. He just passed his initiation assessment three days ago and is currently staying in Anvil Town. He is at the 3rd-Rank early stage, with average cultivation talent.”
He paused.
“Yet, on his third day after joining, he slaughtered an entire team—twelve cultists—sacrificed every single one of them, and then returned to shift the blame to a non-existent patrol of the Green Valley Kingdom without even blinking.”
The Bishop's fingers, which were turning the pages, paused.
“Tell me the details.”
The man in the worn robe sat on a chair near the door and recounted the entire process, from the initiation assessment to the altar incident.
His narration was restrained and concise, free of any subjective evaluation, simply presenting the facts one by one.
The Bishop listened quietly without interrupting.
When the man in the worn robe described how Jiang Lin had opened the sacrificial manual by the altar, completed the ritual according to the standard procedure, cleaned up the scene, disposed of the bodies, and ensured no traces were left behind, the Bishop gently set down the parchment in his hand.
“3rd-Rank early stage,” he repeated the rank. “Average cultivation talent.”
“Yes.”
“Then at most, he will only be able to cultivate to the 3rd-Rank peak in the future. Sacrifices can boost strength, but the higher one goes, the more sacrifices are required.”
The Bishop lightly tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair twice.
“Yet you still want to recommend him.”
“Talent can be compensated for through sacrifice,” the man in the worn robe said. “But temperament cannot be fixed. However, someone who can slaughter his colleagues on his third day and spin a whole story with a straight face... no amount of resources will ever tame his feral nature.”
The Bishop fell silent for a moment.
“Does he know someone was following him?”
“He doesn't,” the man in the worn robe said with certainty. “It is impossible for him to detect my concealment methods.”
The Bishop fell silent again, his fingers stopping their tapping.
“Have him come to Shadow City tomorrow.”
“You wish to meet him in person, Lord Bishop?”
“Yes.” The Bishop leaned back in his chair, his dark gold eyes shimmering in the dim room. “Sacrificing his colleagues on his third day is something I can accept. But I want him to repeat that story to my face. I want to see for myself whether he is truly unfazed, or if he is just putting on a show.”
He paused, adding, “Tomorrow afternoon, have someone bring him to me.”
The man in the worn robe stood up, nodded slightly, and turned to walk out of the room.
In the afternoon of the following day, Jiang Lin followed a guide through the streets of Shadow City, stepping through the main entrance of the black stone cathedral.
He maintained a perfectly measured posture of restraint, keeping his eyes slightly lowered rather than looking around. Following the guide's footsteps, he walked down a long corridor and stopped in front of a heavy wooden door.
The guide knocked on the door. A raspy voice sounded from inside, and the guide pushed the door open, stepping aside to make way.
Jiang Lin took a step and walked inside.
The room was spacious, devoid of any extra furnishings except for the large chair against the wall and the middle-aged man sitting on it.
The man wore a deep purple robe, had a gaunt face, and his dark gold eyes locked onto Jiang Lin.
As the Bishop's gaze fell upon him, Jiang Lin felt an extremely subtle sensation, as if something were scanning him from the inside.
It swept along the surface of his body, lingered for a moment near his dantian and meridians, and then withdrew.
...
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