Chapter 140 Punishment
The students and townspeople gathered at the church entrance were ultimately dispersed by the arriving sheriff. They fired several warning shots into the air. Some were reluctant to aim their guns at the townspeople, but a few, unable to withstand the pressure, attempted to target the leaders. Fortunately, their bullets inexplicably jammed, otherwise even greater chaos would have occurred.
As promised by the Vatican, a few townspeople were indeed released, but the students were not. Some were even arrested for "obstructing the investigation"—what were the townspeople? They were merely bait to scare the monkeys. From the Vatican's perspective, the real troublemakers were clearly known, and no one would be spared.
However, the news that the editor-in-chief of the "Limin Daily" was sentenced to death by the heresy verdict, with the help of some people, spread throughout the country at an unprecedented speed like the wind, and the voices of opposition were like wildfires in the wild grass, one wave higher than the other.
Especially when people learned that even though the so-called "culprit" had been sentenced to death, the unarmed students of Baita University were still being arrested, the Vatican's unscrupulous evil deeds completely enraged people.
The Black County coal workers' union was the first to stand up in support of the students, demanding the Vatican release the arrested students and overturn the death sentences. After all, they had a long and bitter feud with the Vatican. The already impoverished workers, in addition to paying exorbitant taxes, also had to "donate" to the high-handed clergy, stuffing their meager daily lunch money into the donation box at the entrance of the magnificent church.
As if they'd tasted success from the previous Black County strike, these workers, with familiarity, took to the streets to organize a countywide strike. Under their instigation, local labor unions and farmers' associations, from transportation hubs like the Kasa Strait to traditional industrial and agricultural areas like the Batalha Highlands, responded one after another. The "civil trials," which had been weakened by the suppression of the Inquisition, erupted once again on a large scale, even becoming more radical. Looking at the shocking news in the newspapers, Ole suddenly felt that even if he ran into the streets and shouted "I am a Shadow Chaser," the locals probably wouldn't even give him a second glance.
——After all, the Shadow Chasers he brought to Baita Town now don’t look like a group of terrifying assassins who come and go without a trace and kill people without a trace!
The second male lead stared with a twitching mouth at Daniga, who was surrounded by local civilian children and was happily teaching them how to make homemade guns and explosives. He felt extremely tired.
Even the Glorious Church was beginning to buckle under the pressure, and the execution date remained undetermined, repeatedly postponed. However, this had no bearing on the condemned man. On the day of the public trial, the professor was blindfolded and pushed through twists and turns for a long time. Then, he felt a surge of dizziness, likely from the teleportation scroll, and then he passed out. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself led to a particularly oppressive, enclosed room.
——He did not return to the solitary cell where he had lived for a long time, and it was very likely that he had completely left the Inquisition.
Before Nova could ask, he spotted a group of strangely familiar red-robed figures, their masks resembling the smiling faces of dead men. A dark-haired young man was roughly bound to an iron bed by these Sons of Life. His wrists and ankles were chained, and even his neck was bound by an iron ring. He was clad only in a thin white robe, like a rabbit forced to expose its thin belly on a dissecting table.
In the dead of winter, iron was so cold it could practically peel off skin. The black-haired young man winced subconsciously, the iron bed beneath him jarring his back. The unpleasant, faintly nauseating smell of blood filled his nostrils. The overwhelming sense of sight had so utterly awful that he could only stare at the ceiling. Once the surroundings quieted down, he suddenly spoke, still using respectful words, but his tone was uncharacteristically blunt.
"Mr. Matthews, is this your 'long-term plan'?"
After a long moment, Dante Matthews' voice slowly rang out from a corner not far away: "You're not surprised at all."
"Since the Inquisition has long been collaborating with the Son of Life, it's no surprise that you're also a member of the Sacrifice Sect." Nova sneered coldly, "Besides, you should be more polite. Now you're begging me to speak. For example, how did the Storm God Utosca resurrect?"
Dante Matthews' breathing became noticeably faster.
Pavaton Miller was too arrogant, trusting only his own conclusions. So, with a little guidance, Miller began investigating and speculating that the "Storm God" and the Sacrificial Cult had reached some kind of cooperative relationship. For example, the Sacrificial Cult would untie the bonds between "Nova" and the "Storm God," while the "Storm God" would reveal the secrets of how to resurrect the gods. Clearly, a god would find the humiliation of being bound by a mere mortal far more unbearable than the humiliation of resurrecting several more gods and dividing their faith. But how could such a significant achievement be taken by Dante Matthews?
——More importantly, does Pavaton Miller really want to resurrect Zephyr, the God of Light and Glory?
Nova recalled that when he deliberately led Miller to get the definite answer that the "Storm God" had been resurrected, the other party's first reaction was anger, so angry that he almost killed him - instead of questioning, excitement, or ecstasy. This was actually inconsistent with the psychological changes of a fanatic who learned that the god might be resurrected.
It seems that Pavaton Miller has also caused a lot of trouble for his colleagues. Coupled with the coveting of other temples, Dante Matthews' sense of crisis has become stronger and stronger, and he has become more and more impatient. In the end, he will definitely choose to transfer him to the lair of the Son of Life - this also achieves one of his goals, temporarily and logically separating him from Pavaton Miller and Apatra who possess the divine seal.
Dante Matthews over there has become much calmer.
"You will tell us." The cardinal in charge of heresy trials said this indifferently and calmly, with a hint of cruelty in his voice.
At his signal, several Sons of Life gathered around him. Nova felt that the man standing beside his head was pinching his chin roughly. The tip of the scalpel slid slowly along his Adam's apple, which was moving nervously up and down, and along the depression in his neck, until it was blocked by the iron ring. The sharp and cold tip of the knife did not cut a wound, but it was enough to make people's hair stand on end and arouse an instinctive shudder.
The black-haired young man frowned uncomfortably and tried to turn his head away. The cultist wearing the white mask was rubbing his lips with his thumb, slowly and firmly, so that the small wound on his mouth, which had cracked due to dryness, suddenly burst into a small pain.
...It's so strange, this method doesn't seem like torture at all.
From his current angle, the professor couldn't see the man's face at all, only catching a glimpse of his beautifully shaped jaw, obscured by the mask. He narrowed his eyes, then suddenly raised his head with all his might, slamming his neck against the tip of the knife. Sure enough, despite knowing the iron ring was blocking his way, the man swiftly lifted the scalpel and tossed it aside. The scalpel struck the iron plate with a distinct, crisp sound.
Now Nova finally managed to see the torturer's eyes.
It was a deep, clear blue, with a strange, dazzling golden ring around the edge of the iris. At this moment, there was no trace of softness in these beautiful eyes, but instead, a chilling, cold anger.
The surroundings had become eerily quiet. The black-haired young man slowly blinked his eyes and politely nodded to his companion whom he hadn't seen for a long time: "Good evening."
He shivered as the iron ring touched his skin, and his brows furrowed subconsciously: "Help me untie these things first."
Seeing the man staring down at him through the mask without saying a word, Nova was stunned for a moment and added, "Excuse me?"
“…”
The other party finally started to act. With a crisp cracking sound, the savior crushed the shackles tied on his right wrist with his bare hands. The professor was waiting for the moment of regaining his freedom with great anticipation, but the guy became unhurried. He stood beside the torture bed, picked up his right hand, and carefully examined the bloody and terrifying fingertips of his five fingers.
"Did they torture you anyway?" Azuka's voice was unusually soft and calm, a little distorted by the mask.
"...No." Nova paused. He didn't want to discuss this right now, but seeing the terrifying aura emanating from the other person, as if he wanted to kill every living thing present, he reluctantly said, "I bit it myself."
“…”
The hand holding his right hand tightened more and more, and the fingertips that were numb from the cold began to feel the sharp pain again.
"—Damn it! Can you please let me get off this damn bed first?!" Nova finally lost his patience. He tried to struggle, but his right hand was tightly restrained, and the rest of his body was also tied up, unable to move. After weighing the pros and cons, the tyrant still tried to soften his tone somewhat stiffly.
"I'm so cold now."
The shackles on his hands loosened slightly. It seemed to be working, and the cunning villain immediately continued: "I'm so hungry, and I want to drink some water."
He heard a low sigh, and then his whole body suddenly relaxed. The professor sat up immediately, but before he could even look around, he was suddenly covered in a warm robe and wrapped tightly around him. He could only vaguely see a group of red-robed men lying on the ground, and Dante Matthews slumped in a corner, his life or death unknown.
The next second, he was lifted up sideways. The feeling of weightlessness made Nova subconsciously grasp the shoulders of the person next to him. After struggling to get his head out of his robe, he came to his senses and frowned. "My legs are fine. I can walk on my own."
As an adult male, the professor was not petite, so it was too strange for him to be held in someone's arms like this - and it seemed too intimate. The long-lost warmth of being completely enveloped by human body temperature made his whole body stiff.
The savior's tone was very calm: "You are not wearing shoes, and the ground is very cold."
Nova's mouth twitched. What a lame excuse.
"I don't mind."
"I do." He was about to open his mouth to retort, but the other party interrupted him rudely, "Don't move, be obedient—I'm very angry now."
Nova: “…”
...Okay, that's barely a sufficient reason.
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