Westminster Bank

Chapter 182: Chapter 125: Ferdinand, How Dare You

’I could just force the Blood Pattern to manifest, kill Ferdinand before he can react, and then make a run for it.’

His gaze lingered on the Silver Demon Hunter for a moment. ’...As long as he doesn’t make a move.’

The Maid nodded. "What Miss Triss said is true."

That one sentence sent ripples through the minds of three people.

Baron breathed an inward sigh of relief. ’Maybe I was just overthinking things.’

The director sighed in relief, thinking that perhaps he, too, had been overthinking.

Lewis, however, furrowed his brow. Though he left most of the affairs of the City Lord’s Mansion to his steward, he couldn’t recall ever seeing this Maid before.

’Was she hired recently?’

Faraday’s face went pale, but he still said, "I can request an Honesty interrogation from a Faith Knight."

But Captain Victor shook his head. "I’ve already used my Honesty for the day. I cannot conduct a more in-depth interrogation."

Upon hearing this, Ferdinand’s expression turned grim. "Isn’t there another one?"

Victor said, "Zhan Jiale is eccentric. If Ferdinand Gang Leader can persuade him, then by all means, be my guest."

He didn’t like Ferdinand’s imperious tone.

’This bunch of Knights... Justice, my ass.’

Ferdinand said coolly, "If that’s the case, then let’s have both Faraday and L taken into custody. We can resume the Judgement tomorrow, after Captain Victor’s Honesty has recovered. How about it?"

’Why aren’t Zod and the others here yet? If this really drags on until tomorrow and Victor just asks me outright if I’m the murderer, I’m completely screwed.’

Baron said, "Miss Triss and this Maid have already testified that it was impossible for me to be at some warehouse when the incident occurred. Why should I be taken into custody?"

"If you’re innocent, why resist being taken into custody?" Ferdinand said softly, his eyes narrowing.

"I am innocent, so why shouldn’t I resist?" Baron refused to fall into the verbal trap Ferdinand had set. "Or is it that the time I’d spend in jail is exactly what the great Gang Leader needs to fabricate his evidence?"

Baron was attempting to shift the focus from the evidence of the case to his conflict with the Iron Thorn Gang.

But Ferdinand seemed to have no desire to argue with him further. He turned directly to the director and said:

"Since we can’t get to the bottom of this right now, we should take advantage of the fact that Captain Victor and Mr. Zhan Jiale—two Faith Knights—are still in Fude City. It’s not too late to resume the trial tomorrow."

He tilted his head slightly, looking at Baron.

"If Mr. L is unwilling to be confined to a cell, that is also acceptable. We simply need to dispatch a few men to surround Mr. L tonight, to ensure the safety of our Hunting Competition champion."

He stared at Baron. "After all, if we do this, Mr. L should have no grounds to claim he was framed by my Iron Thorn Gang."

The onlookers couldn’t help but feel he had a point.

’He wants to put me under surveillance... Why aren’t Zod and the others here yet? Now is the best time to strike at the Iron Thorn Gang!’

Looking at the elegantly dressed high-society figures watching the drama unfold, Baron couldn’t help but feel a surge of anxiety.

The director looked at his daughter, then at the composed Baron. Seeing City Lord Lewis nod his assent, he was just about to announce that this was how they would proceed for the time being.

Just then, a clamor of footsteps echoed from outside the hall.

"Lord Viscount... Weapons are prohibited in the City Lord’s Mansion..."

A woman’s cold voice cut through the air: "Get out!"

The crowd of spectators outside the hall parted like a receding tide.

Yarilan Frederick, dressed in a Hunting Outfit, strode to the forefront. Her left hand rested on the hilt of her blade, while her right hand dragged a person along.

The person was clad in a long gray robe decorated with a pattern of poppy flowers—half in bloom, half in decay.

Someone with a keen eye recognized it as the symbol of the Immortal Church.

This person had to be an Undead Cultist from the Immortal Church!

Behind Yarilan were dozens of fully armed Demon Hunters, each with their left hand on their blade and their right hand dragging a person. fгeewebnovёl.com

At a signal from Yarilan, they all threw the Undead Cultists they were holding onto the floor of the great hall.

Before Lewis could even ask what was happening, Yarilan single-handedly lifted the Undead Cultist she held—whose face was as decayed as dead leaves and withered branches—drew her sword, and plunged it into his heart.

A woman in the crowd screamed. As noble ladies, they had never witnessed such a scene.

They found Yarilan far too fierce and ruthless; few men in Fude City would ever be fond of such a violent girl.

’She danced so beautifully at the ball, too,’ they thought. ’What a waste of such a pretty face.’

But Yarilan paid them no mind. She tightened her grip on the sword’s hilt and twisted it, staring intently at the Undead Cultist’s blank face. Her expression was so detached, it was as if she were looking not at a person, but at a Demon incapable of feeling pain.

Seeing this, the noblewomen around them cried out in horror, and even some of the men felt a twisting pain in their own chests.

One girl, moved to tears by her compassionate nature, even pleaded, "Lord Viscount, no matter what these people have done, even if you must kill them, please don’t torture them."

But all she received in return were the cold, indifferent stares of the battle-worn, blood-soaked Demon Hunters.

Baron noticed that not a single drop of blood fell from the wound where the sword had pierced the Undead Cultist’s chest.

Yarilan withdrew her sword, and its blade was likewise unstained by a single drop of blood.

It was as if the Undead Cultist’s body were hollow, and the sword had simply pierced an empty shell.

Seeing this, Lewis, Stephen, and the others furrowed their brows. The director’s expression was particularly grave as he said, "The Undead."

The Undead are believers blessed by the Immortal Goddess. The conditions for this blessing are specific, so typically only one in a hundred believers will become one.

Their bodies do not age, they only rot. They do not get injured, they only decay.

This is how they achieve their "Immortality."

The only ways to deal with them are to either seal them in a coffin and sink it to the bottom of the sea—where they will remain until the price "paid" by their body is no longer enough to sustain the blessing, at which point they perish in the ocean’s depths.

Or, to incinerate them completely with either the Giant Dragon Flame, which is violent enough to annihilate anything in an instant, or with a certain ever-burning fire from the Land of the Far North.

And then there was one other way...

An Attendant stepped out from behind Yarilan, holding a long box. He opened it in front of everyone, revealing a strangely shaped "spike" crafted from some special kind of wood.

Baron also noticed that the moment the Wooden Spike appeared, a complex expression surfaced on the face of the previously emotionless Undead Cultist.

’Fear, terror... and... relief?’

The Undead Cultists being held by the Demon Hunters actually began to tremble the moment the Wooden Spike appeared. Baron stole a glance at Ferdinand.

The Iron Thorn Gang Leader’s face remained calm, but the throbbing vein on his temple undoubtedly betrayed his inner turmoil.

Faraday, too, had been frozen as if struck by lightning ever since Yarilan appeared with the crowd of Undead Cultists. He was muttering to himself, but no words came out.

But Baron read his lips and guessed he was saying, "How is this possible?"

The Attendant carefully handed the Long Spike to Yarilan. This time, she didn’t stab the Undead Cultist in the chest, but simply used the spike to make a small prick on his finger.

Then, the Undead let out a piercing shriek towards the ceiling mural—a painting of Count Ford Receiving Honors from the Association—before its head fell, and it collapsed limply, as if dead.

"It’s a Wooden Spike made from a Canaan Tree, coated with the juice of a Corruption Flower. It can kill souls tainted by the Immortal’s aura."

Zod, who had appeared behind him at some point, explained to Baron, "If the body can’t be killed, you simply kill the soul."

Seemingly mistaking Baron’s puzzlement for a different kind of concern, he added:

"This method of death is only effective against souls tainted by the Immortal’s aura. Normally, it couldn’t even kill a regular person."

"Unless you plunge the Wooden Spike into their heart," added Zhan Jiale, also known as Brother Sorrowful, who had also arrived.

Baron put on an "I see" expression, but inside, his mind was reeling.

’This so-called Wooden Spike made from a Canaan Tree... if you replaced the Corruption Flower with Mistletoe juice, isn’t that the exact method that damned Judge in the courtroom said I used to murder the Silver Knight, Anthony?’

’The only difference was the Corruption Flower versus the Mistletoe. Other than that, the method of killing was just too similar.’

’Could it be that the faith of the Immortal Goddess doesn’t just exist in Prole, but on the Outer and Inner Sides as well?’

Baron couldn’t quite wrap his head around the relationship between Prole and the two Sides.

But that didn’t stop him from seeing Yarilan as a Female War God.

The Pure-blooded Fierce Tiger, Imperial Viscount Yarilan Frederick, unleashed the Blue Fire from her Command Spell, incinerating the lifeless corpse.

She turned to face the assembled dignitaries, glanced at Baron—who was still reeling from the shock of the Canaan Tree Spike—and finally spoke her first full sentence in front of everyone, other than her shout of "Get out!" and her commands.

She said, "Ferdinand Gang Leader, you have some nerve!"