Chapter 286 | The Crimson Moon Returns

As dusk fell, the red moon rose.

Accompanied by the crisp ringing of carriage bells, the long convoy slowly advanced along the mountain gorge.

The surroundings grew darker and darker, with only the gas lanterns hanging from the front of the carriages casting a pale light.

Lynch, of course, had no intention of telling them the truth. Warned by the two ladies, he grew increasingly vigilant, carefully hiding his true self while cautiously calculating the potential weaknesses of those around him.

These people showed no signs of noticing anything. They were all professionals, playing the cipher-cracking game with great enthusiasm. Even the unsociable Salin contributed quite a few ideas. Unfortunately, lacking the key elements, they ultimately could not overcome the objective limitations, and their efforts yielded no results.

In the end, everyone gradually lost interest. Lulled by the monotonous ringing of the carriage bells and the clattering of hooves, they drifted off to sleep amidst the bumping of the carriage. Lynch had only been dozing for a short while when he suddenly realized that a faint light was flickering in the distant darkness.

“We're here!”

The coachman's shout woke the half-asleep passengers. He immediately raised his gas lantern high and waved it toward the rear, and soon, cheers erupted from the convoy behind.

The bumpy journey was finally over; they had arrived at their destination, Split Ridge Valley.

This was a valley spanning a few square kilometers. The environment was desolate, but a cluster of simple buildings had already been erected inside. Though they were called simple, to Lynch, they looked to be in much better condition than many of the slums where the poor lived in the King District.

It was said that this place had once been a forward survey station for the Norin-Rhine Railway. Later, quite a few accidents occurred during the survey, resulting in more than twenty deaths. Strange things were then discovered in the mountains, leading to the ultimate abandonment of this route.

However, the survey camp had 'coincidentally' been left behind, serving the archaeological team for the next few days.

On one side of the valley was a small lake, and on the other was a large open space enclosed by a fence. Three rows of houses were built on the open space in a U-shape.

A bonfire had already been lit in the center of the three rows of houses. Next to the fire stood a spit-roaster, upon which a poor, fat sheep hung. It was already roasted to a golden, crispy perfection, its mouthwatering aroma wafting in all directions. The convoy caught wind of it from afar before they even drew near, prompting Karl Jones and the crude, bearded Jack to howl with excitement, and even the throat of the refined Rooney to twitch in anticipation.

Behind the bright bonfire, warm light spilled from the windows of the three rows of houses. The windows and floors showed clear signs of having been cleaned. It seemed Mayor Howard had arranged for hands to tidy up the place in advance.

After several hours of bumpy travel, what could be more enticing than a clean room, a warm bonfire, and delicious food?

Large barrels of fine wine, of course.

From a distance, several large wine barrels were stacked near the bonfire. Just looking at them made it seem as though one could already smell the rich aroma of alcohol.

This forced Lynch to admit that, purely from the perspective of hospitality, Howard was a decent employer. At the very least, he provided top-tier treatment throughout and thought of everything. In comparison, factory owners like Chairman Grant, who squeezed their workers to the bone, fell far short.

“Haha, we've arrived! Our thanks to our generous Mayor!”

Karl Jones let out a loud whistle toward the camp from afar to alert the people inside. Before the carriage reached the fence, he turned back to the group and said:

“First, everyone unpack and settle in. We'll have a good meal and a lively celebration to mark the official start of our work. We'll wrap up at eleven o'clock sharp, and Dr. Jenna will host our strategy meeting. After the meeting, everyone should get some good rest so we can set out tomorrow morning. It would be best if we can resolve the issue in a single day. If we really can't, it must not take more than three days, otherwise the ritual will fail. Dr. Jenna, is this arrangement fine with you?”

The doctor had already put away her strange black notebook. She nodded casually. The unspoken understanding between them made Lynch narrow his eyes in thought, though he said nothing.

Because he was considering another problem.

The whistle had been blown, and the convoy had reached the gate, but where were the people who were supposed to welcome them? Why hadn't anyone come to open the gate yet?

Had they fallen asleep from waiting too long? But with a project of this scale, there must have been more than one person sent ahead. It was impossible for all of them to be asleep.

Karl Jones frowned and was the first to jump off the carriage. He rushed over in a few strides to open the wooden gate, gesturing for the convoy to enter. He then caught the rapier thrown to him by Dr. Jenna from behind and, holding the scabbard, approached the bonfire.

No one said a word, but the joy of having just reached their destination vanished in an instant, and a shadow cast itself over Lynch's heart.

Something was a bit off.

Surely they hadn't run into trouble the moment they arrived?

The carriages stopped by the bonfire, and the others silently hopped down. Dr. Jenna waved her hand to direct the other vehicles to enter, while the other five, including Lynch, instinctively gathered around the fire.

The timing was remarkably precise. The sheep was already roasted to a fragrant, perfect temperature, and the bonfire was burning brightly. It must have been lit not long ago.

There was indeed alcohol in the barrels—wine, beer, and spirits. The beer was still foaming; it couldn't have been opened more than fifteen minutes ago.

Scanning the ground quickly, there were no signs of a struggle, nor any bloodstains. Everything was as normal as could be.

But where were the people?

Big-nosed Jack kept twitching his nose, but ultimately shook his head. The unsociable Salin muttered under his breath, but likewise came up empty.

With a soft rustle from across the bonfire, Karl walked out of the barracks holding his sword. Meeting their expectant gazes, he shook his head.

The camp was completely empty.

“No smell of blood,” Jack Adams reported in a low voice, keeping away from the workers who were stepping off the carriages.

“No trace of arcana either,” Salin added coldly.

“Strange. Where did they go? There were supposed to be six workers here waiting to receive us,” Karl Jones pondered, furrowing his brow. “They couldn't have just packed up and left, could they?”

“Impossible. These people clearly left just moments ago,” Rooney immediately countered. “I paid close attention when we came in. There is only one road into the valley. If they were heading out of the mountains, we would have run into them, unless they went the other way.”

“That way leads deep into the mountains. They have no reason to go there.”

Dr. Jenna had already settled the workers. These ordinary folk had no idea what was going on and assumed everything was normal, happily assigning rooms to one another. Only the seven members of the archaeological team gathered by the bonfire, their expressions grim.

“Could it be that right before we arrived, they all suddenly died?”

The camp was still the same cozy camp, but the more welcoming it had seemed earlier, the more eerie it felt now. Six living human beings had vanished into thin air without warning, as if swallowed whole by the camp itself.

Sigh, is this a welcome party for me? Even dressed up like this, I still can't escape the pursuit of the mysterious?

Realizing now was not the time to hide his capabilities, Lynch sighed. Raising his round fan, he took a step forward and began pacing around the bonfire in the camp.

【Authority, Death, Ability, Death Omen.】

This allowed him to see the scenes of any deaths that had occurred nearby within the past twenty-four hours; the closer the event was to the present, the clearer the scene would be.

With the ability activated, his pupils turned a stark, pure white. The world before Lynch dissolved into shades of black and white, with countless black threads creeping along the edges of his vision, and gloomy, eerie whispers echoing in his ears.

“The scent of death does not linger here. They have not died—at least, not here.”

After walking a lap around the camp, Lynch shook his head in disappointment. Dr. Jenna and Karl let out helpless sighs, but just as they were about to speak, they saw the expression behind his round fan suddenly change.

“No, wait.”

Lynch noticed that while he indeed saw no scenes of death before him, a vague feeling of anticipation lingered in his consciousness toward a certain direction. It was likely another bizarre enhancement brought about by his Divine Authority. Without hesitation, Lynch maintained his Death Omen ability, gestured for them to follow, and slipped around the back of the camp.

Behind the camp lay a patch of woods, but it wasn't very deep, spanning only several dozen meters. Passing through it, their vision suddenly opened up to reveal a bare, sheer cliff.

The moment he approached the cliff, flashes of light and shadow flickered before his eyes.

For some unknown reason, six figures sprinted at full speed, running headlong into the cliff one after another, slamming themselves to death.

One of them, perhaps lacking enough momentum, failed to die on the first impact. He actually lay slumped against the cliff face and slammed his head against it several more times with brute force until he finally stopped moving.

Hiss, damn it. More of this senseless self-mutilation. Damn you, mystery. If you've got the guts, show me something even more bizarre, and then I'll be impressed.