Chapter Thirty-Two

Lady sat on the table, looking at her left hand.

The hands on the new clothes look exactly like real hands, soft yet strong.

She looked in the mirror, lost in thought.

Her appearance was indeed somewhat eerie, because she was too perfect, without any flaws. She was flawless from every angle. Such a thing could never be a living person; it must be a demon or monster.

However, if viewed from a less cruel perspective, this girl is truly amazing.

Lady was pondering the differences between herself and ordinary humans, things that seemed illogical.

Alchemical dolls are created with a specific purpose in mind; for example, the function of a discarded doll is closely related to its original design.

But what was the purpose of creating myself?

Lady pondered, looking at her own body.

When her left hand was still a sharp knife, she felt like she was still a tool that had been created.

But now that her left hand has returned to a human hand, she suddenly feels that she is not meant to fight.

Because no matter how you look at it, the performance of a hand in combat can never compare to that of a blade.

But this hand was originally my part, and the blade was a discarded tool.

If that's the case, then what was the purpose of creating yourself in the first place?

"Try it out and see if it's easy to use." Suddenly, a mechanical voice came from the side. Lady turned her head and saw a flintlock pistol being handed to her.

Lady looked at the musket, which had strange alchemical patterns on it, and the feel of it inexplicably matched her hand, as if the grip had been made specifically for her hand.

Although he had no idea what model the gun was, his entire body was instinctively responding to it. With a slight movement of his fingers, he disengaged the safety, repositioned the safety markings, and inserted a new bullet.

She assumed a aiming posture, as precise as a guard who had served his entire life.

"Good, it seems the creator has prepared a tutorial for you to install." Abandoned Child nodded in satisfaction: "This way, you'll have some ability to fight back later."

"What's this?"

"It's filled with armor-piercing rounds, with an effective range of eighty meters. Within twenty meters, it can penetrate most armor. But we can't guarantee it can harm clerics. After all, there are no high-ranking clerics among the test subjects, so we can only infer its effectiveness based on its performance." The abandoned child paused and said, "But it's very limited, that's for sure. It wasn't originally designed to deal with them."

"Are there weapons specifically designed to deal with clergy?"

“Yes, there are, but those things are usually hidden, and I can’t get them.” After a pause, Qi Zi said helplessly, “Those in the church probably know that we are researching weapons specifically to deal with them. Every time they come to inspect, they try to find them, but fortunately, we hide them very well, and they haven’t found them.”

"So we still can't deal with those clergymen?" Lady sighed. "That's really discouraging. Those guys look really powerful."

"You should have met one of them."

“Yes, one of the priests healed my wounds. I should thank that guy; if it weren’t for him, I might be dead by now,” Lady said softly. “Even though he seemed to hate me, he still healed my wounds. He’s a good person. Ark said they are all very, very good people, but it’s precisely because they are very, very good people that they hate us. They are too upright. Upright people can’t tolerate any imperfections.”

After hesitating for a moment, the abandoned pawn remained silent.

It wanted to defend itself, since it had never done anything wrong, so why would it do something so outrageous to itself?

However, after careful consideration, it roughly understood. It was precisely because it hadn't done anything wrong that they hadn't harmed it. If it had a history of misdeeds, it would probably have been demolished by now.

In other words, they only want it to exist because it's safe. That's all; if they don't want it to be there, nothing they do will change that.

If living is a mistake, the only way to correct it is to die where no one can see. But nowadays, not many people have the courage to die; most just eke out a living, even if no one likes them. I don't know why, but I just want to live; I instinctively feel a fear of death.

Even machines are no exception.

The abandoned child looked at Lady in front of him, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke.

“Let’s escape,” said the abandoned child. “If we leave now, I know the way, and we’ll get to Nidra very quickly.”

Lady paused for a moment, then understood what it meant.

After reaching a temporary settlement last night, Ark is now upstairs discussing other matters with others, including the exchange of intelligence and the formulation of future plans.

Nobody cares whether she leaves or not. Everyone is too busy to care whether she will die or escape to somewhere else.

The necessities controlled by the Church were nothing more than potions to suppress corruption. Since few could take clergy on their journeys, those injured along the way needed ways to prolong their lives.

So the Church used its holy power to create a potion that could suppress corruption. Although it couldn't completely cure it, it was enough to sustain one until the next clergyman was seen. Any minor injury on the road required taking this potion; in other words, without it, no one dared to move through the corrupted, chaotic land.

Lady needed that thing; she didn't know why she was similar to humans in this respect. The corruption caused by her previous injury had almost killed her.

But it seems that the abandoned pawn is unnecessary; perhaps it has misunderstood and thinks it is the same as the other pawn.

Just as Lady was about to explain, she suddenly saw it pull a small cloth bag out of its pocket.

There's a portion of the medicine inside; judging by the size, it's probably enough for one person.

"This is..." Lady instinctively wanted to ask.

“Yak, I stole a little.” The abandoned child said frankly, without any intention of making excuses for his actions: “This way we can get through to the outside world alive. It’s immoral, but it’s the only way we can survive.”

Because Yak needs to buy these things every time he sets off, since they concern his name. And since he didn't suffer much loss last time, he naturally kept them all.

This is enough for one person.

The abandoned pawn doesn't seem to need this thing; this guy doesn't seem to have any human-like qualities other than being able to think for himself.

After all, not everything that has limbs can be considered a person.

"Forget it," Lady shook her head, rejecting the suggestion.

"May I ask why?"

“Ark saved my life, so I should at least repay him.” Lady hesitated for a moment before saying, “I think it’s the moral thing to do.”

"So your system actually cares about something as trivial as morality?" The voice of the abandoned son revealed no opinion.

......

The room was completely silent; no one intended to speak first.

At this moment, Yak was standing in the corner, with Deedri leaning on his shoulder.

“At least I told you that you’re very beautiful, and treating a man like this could easily cause trouble,” Yak said in a low voice, looking down.

Because of her physical condition, Deedris could only wear these loose-fitting clothes. From this angle, her beautiful collarbones were clearly visible. Even with bandages covering her, one could still roughly guess what lay hidden beneath.

"Huh? How old are you? If you're interested in me, I can only say you're a pedophile pervert."

“Age shouldn’t be a factor in these kinds of things.” Yak raised his head normally, too lazy to dwell on the topic.

It's easy to guess why Deedley did this. Only the two of them standing here can be sure they're on the same side. Although they're all in the same trench, they all have their own agendas.

The alliance between these people, who have set aside their personal interests to stand here simply because of external pressure, is so unreliable. Even friendships bought with money are far more solid than this.

There was actually a table there, but no one was sitting on it.

Everyone maintained a safe distance, not getting too close to each other. This allowed for sufficient time and space to react. Even if something unexpected happened, they could react correctly in an instant.

Even now, with Ark and Deedri standing shoulder to shoulder, one of her legs was pressed against Ark's shin. That was a point of leverage; if Ark made an aggressive move against her, even at this distance, she could easily crush his ribs with an elbow strike.

“Everyone, at least say something, anything.” One of the guys in the middle realized the atmosphere wasn’t pleasant and said in a voice loud enough to echo in the room.

Ark recognized the man; he had once been a knight in the church, but was expelled due to some stain on his record. He then studied combat with a swordsman for a long time, eventually killing his teacher and obtaining the cursed sword strapped to his back.

Red hair and pure white skin, plus that conspicuous stitched wound on his neck. He was a standard 1.7 meters tall. Not particularly tall, but he dared to sit in the middle of the room, seemingly confident he could handle being surrounded.

The prefix "Saint" Dus is a derogatory term that was coined because of his past.

It's said that this guy can also use holy magic in a limited number of areas, but I don't know if that's true or not.

"Can you say anything?" Suddenly, a slightly amused voice came from the corner: "Then may I interview you all?"

Everyone showed their dissatisfaction, looking at the guy who had made the noise.

Yak also looked away, letting out a helpless sigh.

Sure enough, this guy was there.

This is a guy with strange patterns drawn on his head with red ink. His hair is unkempt but not messy. He looks quite normal, but he carries a huge wooden box on his back, and it's unclear what's inside.

This guy keeps using weird words, like "just now." What is an interview? That word sounds completely unfamiliar.

If there are two unidentified individuals in this room, then this one definitely qualifies. Besides Ark, this is another guy whose background remains a mystery.

No one knows when he appeared. No one knows where he grew up, and no one can collect any information about him that a normal person should have.

Although most of the people here were dressed in strange clothes, with very few wearing normal attire, his clothes were even stranger. The colors and materials were odd; it was unclear what kind of fabric it was, and it didn't look like it was of good quality.

Oh, and there's the only piece of information.

This is an immortal being, an immortal being in the truest sense.

Some people have seen him fall off a cliff, his bones were shattered, and even his muscles were stuck together.

However, he reappeared in another place a few days later, seemingly unharmed.

It seems that as long as there is a part of his body in this world, even if all the other parts are destroyed, that part will grow back into a whole body.

That sounds disgusting, and he seems utterly incapable of fighting. Judging by his appearance, killing him here in a fight wouldn't be difficult at all. He calls himself Ghost Duke, which is equally nonsensical a name.

Ark was quite interested in this guy because he saw him everywhere he went. He always carried a pen and paper, constantly taking notes of his surroundings.

But then the guy started rambling on and on about strange things, mostly his own version of the introductions he'd just given. He was putting a lot of effort into introducing himself, but he didn't mention any of the key information.

"Shut up, you chatterbox." The person next to him couldn't take it anymore and smashed a cup on the table on his head.

With the sound of shattering glass, the guy collapsed to the ground. He really was as weak as he looked; even a cup like that could knock him unconscious, and even shards of glass could leave bruises and wounds on his head.

Ark silently watched the wounds healing at a visible speed. While rapid wound healing wasn't exactly a miraculous ability—many people present could heal similar injuries instantly—it was still remarkable.

But this guy seems to have no limit to how quickly he can recover. Although it's slow, he's always back to his lively self after a few days.

“We don’t need to worry about this guy now.” Hack coughed a few times. “I didn’t invite him; he came on his own.”

This statement seems to be an attempt to distance oneself from this eccentric person, probably because one doesn't want their reputation to be damaged by him.

Everyone nodded in understanding. Now that this annoying guy had collapsed on the ground, everyone could talk about serious matters.