Greta gasped and instinctively covered her eyes, but the expected tragedy did not occur.
The young man said something, and the raging flames suddenly went out, and a gust of wind dispersed the mist that filled the square.
Militia captain Aug looked like a duck whose neck had been grabbed; his smug expression vanished abruptly, replaced by a sense of terror. The extreme emotional fluctuations made his already ferocious face even more distorted.
The young man on the fire roared with laughter: "It's getting desperate! It's getting desperate!"
He shouted in all directions, seemingly using a megaphone, so Xia Ning, standing on the second floor of the tavern, could clearly hear every word he uttered.
"One of my defensive items was torn apart. It wasn't the work of these fools; it was the monster that did it!"
After the fog dissipated, Xia Ning could clearly see the player's expression through the binoculars—madness.
Xia Ning pondered whether this player had consumed too much [Crazy Flesh], perhaps without even realizing how abnormal his current state was.
The young man exclaimed excitedly, "I've hit a nerve, haven't I!"
His bloodshot eyes were fixed on the townspeople who kept shouting "demon".
"You are all dead. No god will save you. If there really is a god, how could you have become like this? If a god really exists, he is nothing but a useless bum who only talks big! You are nothing but lab rats being played with."
The young man raised his head and looked up at the sky. The sunlight shone into his eyes without obstruction, causing him to shed tears.
"Listen to me, we'll leave this town together tonight. What Misty Town? It's just..."
——Poof.
Two green shoots pierced through the eyeballs, sprouting from the young man's eye sockets, and grew and extended rapidly.
"What are you waiting for! Burn him alive!"
With a loud shout, Aug stirred the crowd in the square.
Hundreds of torches were thrown at the fire stand in unison, and thick smoke rose up once again. The white fog returned to its place, and the fog in the square became even thicker than before.
Xia Ning put down the binoculars; she couldn't see anything at all now.
"Current number of players on this map: 8/10".
Xia Ning had actually considered whether it was possible to exploit a loophole in the rules. If all players simultaneously exited the instance map, would that count as the number of players remaining in the instance being less than 20%?
The map of "Disaster City" is large, there are many players scattered, and the operation is too difficult, with the possibility of failure being almost zero.
In "Misty Town," however, the ten players unite, agree on a time and place, and step out of the town's boundary at the same time. Who knows, it might just be a win-win situation, a collective victory.
However... Xia Ning quickly abandoned this naive idea.
It's not about the number of people, it's about people's hearts.
Xia Ning believed that at least one person would think: If nine people leave the town at the same time, and I stay in the map alone, can't we all still complete the game together?
Life is only once, and most people wouldn't dare risk their lives to test bugs.
Similarly, wouldn't others be wary of the unknown Judas?
This seemingly simple method was unworkable from the start.
-
Greta doesn't remember how she left the square. For a moment, she was afraid to face the apostles of the gray mist, and in a daze, she ended up in the church.
Since breaking with the militia, the priest had stopped participating in town meetings, and the rest of the town seemed to have forgotten about this lovely and respectable old man.
The gaunt body knelt beneath the stained-glass window, its silhouette resembling an unchanging sculpture.
Greta stood silently behind the priest for a moment, then asked softly, "Are the gods above the gray fog truly our protectors?"
The priest's voice was as gentle as ever: "Are you doubting your faith, my child?"
Greta bit her lower lip and said, "Faith? Whoever can free me from the fear of death is my faith."
The priest's voice came calmly: "So, messenger of the gray fog, did you sow the seed of life for your mother?"
Greta's mood improved, and her tone was no longer so negative: "Mother's condition is much better; she's able to eat now."
The priest murmured, "Above, the gray mist."
Greta noticed a powerful emotion emanating from the priest; every word seemed to be forced out of his throat.
"Please help me deliver this codex to the messenger of the gray fog."
The priest pulled a small book from his wide sleeve.
Greta first noticed the priest's withered fingers, and then discovered the unfamiliar characters on the text.
Greta asked, "Why don't you go and see the messenger of the gray fog?"
"Because you are the chosen one. Now, my child, go and fulfill your mission."
After the priest finished speaking, as if he had finally exhausted all his strength, he ignored Greta and humbly lowered his head, kneeling under the gaze of the gods.
If Greta had been a little more assertive, more observant, or even just a small step closer, she would have noticed the priest's unusual behavior.
Beneath the priest's robes, the body was tightly bound with bandages, and the skin beneath the bandages was necrotic and black, just like Greta's mother five days ago.
The priest was no longer able to leave the church; his spirit and body were about to be received by God.
At this moment, Greta knew nothing.
Her heart pounded; the red-haired girl had found her own mission. She ran home without stopping, sprinting all the way to the second floor, only stopping at her bedroom door. She hurriedly combed her disheveled hair and tried to calm her breathing.
Xia Ning, who was in the room, heard the commotion outside. She sat calmly on the wooden chair with her younger sister on her lap.
Whenever the little owl gets sleepy, Xia Ning tugs at its wings.
As soon as Greta entered, she was met with a pair of bright, piercing eyes.
Greta felt as if everything about him had been seen through, so she stopped with the preamble and presented the priest's code.
Xia Ning: What? You're proselytizing to me?
Brainwashing and counter-brainwashing, is that even possible?
She glanced at it—[Contract].
Take it and examine it more closely—[The Contract (containing the list of sacrificers)]
Xia Ning knew she had touched a crucial item; her inner thoughts raced, but she tried to remain calm on the surface.
Although she wasn't an acting student, thankfully the veil concealed her face, and Greta dared not peek at the Gray Mist Apostle's expression.
With her eyes fixed on her toes, Greta was filled with curiosity. She wondered what exactly was written in the priest's code.
-
They wrote a dual contract (one for official purposes and one for private purposes).
The contents of this little notebook can be read in ten minutes, and Xia Ning was greatly impressed within those ten minutes.
Good heavens, they're all villains!
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