The young woman's expression was one of utter bewilderment, as if she had been turned to stone.
It worked.
Rode's heart swelled with joy. As long as he could cling to this powerful, supportive figure (literally "big white long leg"), his personal safety might be secured.
...
In the deathly silence, the young woman suddenly burst into laughter. Her smile was bright and clear, like the fluctuating light rippling across a shimmering lake.
"Alright, I believe you. White Wolf, take him back to the Church Infirmary. The Sisters of the Healing Order will look after him. And as for the Internal Affairs Tribunal... if necessary, just cooperate with their investigation."
Her gaze turned toward him. "Does that sound acceptable to you?" she asked, seemingly seeking his opinion.
Although Rode didn't fully understand, he could tell these were very generous terms. He quickly replied, "Of course, that sounds fine."
White Wolf shot him a glance, his tone still cold and calm: "Guardian Your Excellency, I believe this is inappropriate..."
"Hmm... The King's City just informed me of a new salary increase quota..."
White Wolf grabbed Rode's arm: "Let's go."
A'luo, standing nearby, snickered ('puchi' sound). Rode maintained a serious expression. He was professionally trained; he usually didn't laugh.
Hahahaha.
Oops, couldn't hold it in.
"Hey," the young woman called out to him before he left. "What is your name?"
Rode turned back. He was briefly distracted, though he didn't notice it, and answered without hesitation. "Rode."
The young woman smiled, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Rode of Red Stone Village. My name is Qingyu, the Guardian of District Twelve. I hope we can meet again someday."
...
After White Wolf left, A'luo asked curiously, "Sister, why did you do that? The complete loss of the Red Stone Village migration team is a very serious matter. If the High Council finds out that we are only cooperating with the investigation, those old men will certainly come to lecture you again."
Qingyu answered calmly, "I believe he is not a Doomsday Cultist."
A'luo asked, "Why? Is it because of those amusing words he spoke?"
Qingyu said softly, "A'luo, you don't understand. Doomsday cultists are all lunatics—twisted, crazy, paranoid, and full of hate. They have no passion for life, only grotesque and perverted desires, and minds filled with plots and schemes."
A'luo suddenly understood. "So they couldn't possibly come up with language that is so stuffy with hothouse sentimentality and sweetness, or such a ridiculous plan to clear himself. Hmm... I feel like we couldn't think of that either. The environment in Red Stone Village is actually quite harsh... He truly is a strange person."
Qingyu smiled, "It is precisely because of this that I believe he has no direct connection to this incident. He is neither the main killer nor the mastermind. Cooperating with the Internal Affairs Tribunal's investigation is sufficient; there's no need to extract his soul and kill him." "Besides, he is just an ordinary person. He hasn't been corrupted, hasn't been tainted, and doesn't possess any spiritual energy. It would be very difficult for him to achieve something so complicated."
The others nearby nodded in agreement: "Yes, yes, Guardian Your Excellency is right." "I've never seen such an immature Doomsday Cultist." "He's not a Fire Wielder; the suspicion is minimal." "He's a bit slow, like a... like a flower."
Another person asked, "But why would they specifically attack this migration team?"
The atmosphere grew serious. "They didn't take the goods or pollute the fire source, yet they conducted an unrecognizable ritual... Is it related to the approaching Black Tide?" one person speculated. "Perhaps they were trying to pray to some evil god, and the overflowing ritual power cursed the bodies..." "But what's the point of that? The only result of praying to madness is madness. There are no traces of any unknown entity descending here. Their ritual failed."
At that moment, someone came to report: "Guardian Your Excellency, the residual spiritual energy fluctuations are extremely bizarre and unidentifiable. The possibility of chronological regression is estimated to be low."
Everyone's expressions darkened.
...
...
Since waking up, Rode's nerves had been extremely tight and strained. Only now did he finally relax a little.
Although the burly man wasn't friendly, he was trustworthy. He carried the lamp in one hand and Rode in the other, sprinting alone through the darkness. His lamp could only illuminate a few meters around him; outside was the boundless dark and heavy black fog. No matter how long or how far he ran, nothing changed.
In such an environment, a strong man always provided a sense of security, like meeting an expert in a ranked match, or like the child A'dou resting safely in the arms of Uncle Zhao next door.
The fear of death had finally moved a little further away. As his mind relaxed, Rode felt intensely drowsy. He didn't bother to ask for more information and fell into a deep sleep.
When he woke up, he found himself in a small room.
White Wolf stood before him and said coldly: "You will recuperate here for three days. The Healing Sisters will attempt to soothe your spirit and help you retrieve your lost memories. After three days, someone will come to interview you. Regardless of the outcome, you will be granted King's City resident status, authorized to move around in Districts Three and Four of the Outer Lower City." "Simultaneously, you must maintain contact with the Internal Affairs Tribunal at all times and present yourself at a specified time and place to answer specified questions posed by the Tribunal."
Before Rode could speak, White Wolf turned and left.
What the hell? I have a pile of questions to ask you, and you just run off? How am I supposed to recover my memory? How am I supposed to answer the questions?I can't even make up a story!
After a bout of internal grumbling, Rode calmed down. His mind quickly began to turn, contemplating his situation.
Undoubtedly, he first had to figure out how to survive here. In his remaining memory fragments, the King's City was their absolute core. All the order and powerful organizational structure stemmed from this place. Likewise, it was the safest region. Being in the King's City was a blessing in his misfortune.
Rode sighed. Although his situation had improved slightly, he was still not out of danger. His suspicion hadn't been cleared. The King's City's investigation into the migration team's demise was still the Sword of Damocles hanging over his head. Moreover, Rode had to assist their investigation. The balance was difficult to strike—he couldn't raise suspicion, yet he couldn't push the progress too quickly.
"I should figure out if I'm the killer first. That way, I won't have to constantly change my story." Rode thought calmly.
However, he was alone here and had no resources. The best way to uncover the truth before the local powers was to recover his memory. He could only pin his hopes on the so-called Healing Sisters.
"I hope you are truly profound." "Alas, the blue and white... the azure and white young lady didn't help me more. It seems my special skill wasn't impressive enough..."
After a moment of random thoughts, Rode collected himself. The most important thing now was to find a way to stay alive. Only by living was anything possible. He should quickly learn about this kingdom, the King's City, and all their strange peculiarities. Only then could he survive better.
"I'll observe my surroundings first."
Rode looked around. This was a small, single room, about twenty square meters, simple and unadorned, without many distinguishing features. The only thing worth noting was that there was no visible light source in the room, yet a faint glow kept the environment in a state of dim light. "Perhaps they have special ways of generating light," Rode thought.
The room had no windows and was completely enclosed, which felt a bit oppressive. On a brown wooden table nearby sat a strange sculpture, composed of a sword, flames, and an armored human figure. The base was carved with two lines of text. But he didn't recognize any of it. Damn, being illiterate is so annoying.
On one side of the wooden table was a long floor-length mirror, simple in style, with complex patterns carved on the base. Rode walked to the mirror and saw himself reflected within. Black hair, light-colored eyes, a slightly pale complexion, and a delicate, handsome face—like a young Tom Cruise at his peak.
"Damn... is this me? Though slightly inferior to the original me, it's still not bad." "Just a little too young, maybe sixteen or seventeen. I wish I were a bit more formidable..." "Why did I lose my memory? I can clearly understand their language."
Rode violently knocked his head twice. The handsome young man in the mirror also knocked his head twice. But it was useless; he was still none the wiser. He paced the room a couple of times. He didn't feel anything special; everything was so unfamiliar. "So troublesome... I can only rely on the Sister Miss."
Rode waited for a moment, and the Healing Sister from the Church Infirmary arrived as promised.
Contrary to his imagination, she was not covered head-to-toe in a black robe, wearing a headscarf, and holding a cross, nor was she wearing a leather catsuit, high heels, and holding a submachine gun. Instead, she wore a simple, long dress and a gray scarf, looking like a woman from next door. She wheeled in an unremarkable small cart.
"Hello," she smiled gently at Rode. "This is Yuser's Church Infirmary. I am Healing Sister Seven. It's a pleasure to serve you."
Rode's expression was slightly odd, reminding him of some scenes he shouldn't recall. "Um... Do you not have a name?"
Sister Seven smiled subtly, her bright eyes flashing. She said in a very soft voice, "Of course I do, kind Sir. But by convention, we cannot reveal our names. You may just call me Seven."
She skillfully organized the tools on the cart, pulling out various objects, lighting incense, spraying essential oils, and pouring different liquids.
"Alright, please take off your clothes and lie face down on the bed."
Rode hesitated. "Um, do I need to take off my pants, too?"
The light in Sister Seven's bright eyes flashed again. She spoke in a very quiet voice: "Of course, you must take everything off, completely naked, dear. That is our usual procedure..."
Before she could finish, a huge, deafening sound boomed through the room.
"SEVEN! HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THE INFIRMARY BAN?! NO TEASING OR MOLESTING PATIENTS! NO GENITAL COMMUNICATION WITH PATIENTS! FIRST OFFENSE, LEVEL THREE WARNING! REPEAT OFFENSE, YOU WILL BE CONFINED FOR A MONTH!"
"And you, Fellow, just take off your shirt, you don't need to take off your pants. Also, during the treatment process, if you observe the Sister exhibiting any non-standard behavior—such as stroking or touching inappropriate locations, uttering discordant language or sounds, or unnecessarily removing your own or her clothing—shout for help immediately! I will rush over at once to stop the Sister's illegal infringement and protect your personal safety."
"I am Abbess Yuser. I wish you a pleasant treatment."
Click. The sound vanished. The ward was silent.