absurd deduction game.

In pure one-on-one combat, Qu Xianqing felt he could kill a hundred high priests in ten minutes.

After all, the High Priest was a pure "mage" whose attacks were all based on mysticism and who had no close combat ability. Mysticism either requires casting materials or has usage intervals or limits. In contrast, Qu Xianqing could swing his sword countless times.

But she cannot kill the high priest now.

It wasn't that she was afraid the main storyline would fall apart if the high priest died; after all, the game would just end earlier if the boss was killed prematurely. She chose to play it safe after realizing that the high priest was linked to several different evil gods.

The world's high-end combat power does not lie in the righteous church, nor in the fanatical followers of various evil gods, nor in the esoteric sects, but in all the gods and monsters. A powerful strategist like her can confidently defeat the esoteric sects, but she cannot guarantee that she will not perish under the attacks of the evil gods.

This world is the home ground of the local gods.

The high priest's body is like a fuse.

If the high priest dies, he might instantly ignite the fuse, drawing the evil gods on the other end of the link. His body itself can serve as a sacrificial offering, and "death" is merely the ritual process, enough to ensure that the arrival of the evil gods is in accordance with procedure.

At that time, although no one will be able to preside over the final ritual of Tantric Buddhism, the simultaneous descent of several evil gods will be enough to bring enormous disaster to the world. That scene will probably be many times more difficult to handle than the final ritual of Tantric Buddhism.

With this in mind, Qu Xianqing held back a bit more, creating the illusion that he was on the verge of defeat.

As she acted, she thought to herself that a cultist who could be associated with multiple evil gods could not possibly be just a cult leader in Yorikef.

The high priest of Yorikef Town is likely the controller of the entire cult within this instance's world.

Sudden.

"boom--!!!"

A dull, loud crash, like something shattering, came from the direction of the altar!
Herbert the Deacon's final, life-burning strike, aided by the assistance of two other deacons, finally shattered the pale core.

The moment the core shattered, countless shrill, inhuman screams erupted from it, and extremely dense, foul energy surged out like a burst dam, but then quickly dissipated into the air.

Above the altar, the two-headed ghost infant let out a final cry filled with resentment and bitterness. The evil god's consciousness within it was then withdrawn, and its massive body rapidly withered away, eventually transforming into a shriveled, two-headed dead infant about the length of a forearm, its body bluish-black, clearly having been dead for some time.

The terrifying pressure that had enveloped the entire cave also vanished.

"puff!"

Before Herbert and the others could see how much of an impact they had suffered, they heard the fake archbishop not far away spit out a mouthful of blood, looking weak as if he had overused his mental energy and was finally able to stop imprisoning the ghost infant.

The high priest, who had been locked in combat with Qu Xianqing, suddenly paused. He glanced at the altar, which had completely lost its luster and was riddled with cracks, and then at Qu Xianqing and the remaining church survivors, fewer than ten people, in the cave.

Beneath the black robe, a soft, ambiguous hum seemed to escape, carrying a hint of displeasure at the disruption of his plans, but not much anger or regret.

The next moment, the high priest dodged Qu Xianqing's upward sword strike, his figure fading and disappearing silently like ink dissolving in water, his presence completely leaving the cave.

Qu Xianqing took a few steps as a gesture, then stopped and turned to look at the church people.

The cave was deathly silent, with only heavy, suppressed breathing and the occasional faint gasp from touching a wound.

The lingering stench of the two-headed ghost infant had not completely dissipated, mixing with the pungent, nauseating smell of blood to create a sticky sense of despair that weighed heavily on the hearts of every survivor.

Of the originally nearly forty elite soldiers, only eleven or twelve, including the seriously wounded, are still breathing.

They sat slumped on the ground or leaned against the cold cave walls, their eyes vacant, their faces filled with the bewilderment of surviving the ordeal and the immense grief of losing their companions.

The golden holy light had dimmed, just like their spirits at this moment, which, after experiencing extreme madness and fear, were reduced to ashes.

However, what they all had in common was that their gazes toward Qu Xianqing were complex, containing both gratitude and a hint of indescribable awe and distance.

Qu Xianqing accepted this kind of gaze quite well.

Now that the immediate danger has been eliminated, the next period of time will be for post-war rest and recuperation.

Those who survived need medical treatment and also need to reflect on the fact that they were tricked by the cult and suffered huge losses.

The fake archbishop, as the actual commander, was obviously to take the blame, but based on his position in the church and the good prestige he had accumulated, no one spoke out against him; the atmosphere just became more somber.

Qu Xianqing did not participate in the discussion of follow-up actions, but only watched as the church members cleaned up the battlefield.

Deacon Herbert's injuries were too severe. He leaned against a rock, his severed left arm barely held in place by a guard who knew a little about bandaging, using torn pieces of his clothing and found branches. His face was as pale as paper, and large beads of sweat kept rolling down his forehead.

His eyes were closed, his chest heaving violently, as if he were still struggling with the near-death experience he had just had.

The archbishop should have healed him, but the archbishop had already exhausted himself and was not suitable to use any holy magic for a while.

Several guards with minor injuries struggled to their feet and began searching through the mountains of corpses and seas of blood to identify the remains of their comrades.

Every time I see a familiar face, it triggers a suppressed sob.

They moved gently and carefully to piece together the mutilated bodies, trying to preserve the last shred of dignity for these departed souls.

Qu Xianqing sat alone on a relatively clean stone a little distance from the ruins of the altar.

Her wounds were still gruesome, dark red blood soaking through her tattered clothes and sticking to her skin, but she seemed unconcerned. She simply lowered her head slightly and slowly wiped the half-congealed scabs on her fingers with a relatively clean cloth that she had found somewhere.

Her profile appeared particularly cold and expressionless in the dim light of the cave, as if the surrounding sorrow and her own wounds were irrelevant to her. Compared to the people of the church, she seemed rather unapproachable.

People around her glanced at her a few times, then stopped looking at her.

Qu Xianqing wiped her fingers clean and made sure no one was paying attention to her before reaching into her pocket and taking out the little paper figure.

A thin piece of paper, topped with a cute, cartoonish face, stared blankly at her. Qu Xianqing: "..."

She lowered her voice, speaking in a decibel that no one else could hear, "The situation here is similar to what you described, so, has everyone been evacuated?"

A few seconds later, the little paper figure spoke.

Its mouth moved, emitting Carlos's delighted voice: "Of course~ How could a traditional magic trick like the 'disappearing person' fail in my hands?"

Qu Xianqing had no doubt about this. She reminded them, "Many of them have suffered severe mental trauma and may be corrupted into believers in evil gods. Remember to investigate thoroughly and don't leave any hidden dangers."

The little paper figure laughed: "Don't worry. Next, it'll be your turn to die, won't it?"

Qu Xianqing curled the corners of her lips: "Mm."

Just then, a very faint sound of footsteps, almost drowned out by the suppressed sobs of the survivors and the sounds of carrying corpses, quietly sounded from behind her.

The footsteps carried a deliberately slowed, composed demeanor befitting someone in a superior position, yet upon landing, they revealed a hint of superficiality that seemed out of place in the somber atmosphere.

Qu Xianqing calmly put the paper figure back into her pocket, lowered her head and pretended to rest, listening to the footsteps getting closer and closer.

The cave was dimly lit, with many shadowy figures, and almost no one noticed the subtle movement.

Just as the figure was almost touching Qu Xianqing's back, a voice carrying just the right amount of weariness, heaviness, and a hint of relief suddenly rang in her ear:

“Investigator, Miss…”

The sound appeared extremely abruptly. Anyone who had just experienced a life-or-death struggle and whose mind was still in a highly sensitive state would probably jump up in fright if they were so close to someone and suddenly heard such a sound when they were relaxed. At the very least, their heart would stop for a moment.

However, Qu Xianqing's eyelashes trembled slightly, and she raised her head very slowly, but did not respond immediately. Her back remained straight, as if the voice that was so close to her was just a gentle breeze.

Her overly calm reaction caused the person behind her to pause slightly.

A moment later, as if confirming something, Qu Xianqing slowly turned his head to look at the "archbishop" who had appeared behind him at some point.

The archbishop looked somewhat disheveled, his red robes stained with dust and splattered with blood.

His face bore an undisguised weariness, and his eyes, which should have been filled with majesty and compassion, were bloodshot. His gaze swept heavily over the horrific scene inside the cave, finally settling on Qu Xianqing, revealing a complex emotion mixed with gratitude and pity.

“Thank you for your help.” The fake archbishop’s voice was hoarse but sincere. He nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over Qu Xianqing’s bloodstains and wounds. His tone was full of genuine concern. “If you hadn’t held back that powerful cultist at the crucial moment and helped Herbert and the others destroy the altar, we… would have paid an even greater price. You are seriously injured. Mother Goddess will remember your kindness.”

Qu Xianqing looked at him quietly, her face still expressionless, and simply replied, "Thank you. I also feel that you owe me a favor, but there's no need to thank me. Since I've gotten involved in this, I won't abandon you and run away."

The fake archbishop seemed unsurprised by her coldness. He sighed heavily, his gaze returning to the corpses being collected, a deep sorrow appearing on his face: "But... the price was far too high. These were loyal guardians of the Mother Goddess, good young men of Yorikef Town... they should have had bright futures... it's all my fault, I fell into the trap of the cult."

He shook his head, his voice choked with emotion, as if he couldn't bear to watch any longer: "May their souls find peace in the kingdom of the Mother Goddess, and may their sacrifice awaken more numb people, allowing them to see the true face of these esoteric practitioners and their determination to fight to the end!"

These words were spoken with sincerity and were full of persuasive power.

Those who were collecting the bodies nearby, including Herbert, paused upon hearing this, their grief deepening, but their eyes blazing with even more unwavering fury.

Qu Xianqing felt that he was talking too much.

In order to be sensational, the person impersonating the archbishop obviously did many things that an archbishop would not do, but at this moment everyone was too emotional to examine his every move.

She nodded in agreement and added a comforting remark: "This isn't your fault. The whole misleading scheme probably started at Lighthouse Bookstore. Who could have imagined their plan was so far-reaching?"

The fake archbishop let out a deep breath.

"We underestimated Tantric Buddhism."

After a while, Herbert dragged his weary body over, bowed to the fake archbishop, and reported: "Your Excellency, the remains of the fallen brothers have been initially collected. The seriously wounded need to be sent back to the church for treatment immediately. With our strength and the current situation... I'm afraid we cannot take all the remains back at once."

His voice was hoarse and heavy, filled with deep self-blame and helplessness.

The fake archbishop's face showed understanding and sorrow. He patted Herbert on the shoulder and said gently, "You've worked hard, Herbert. You've done more than enough. Prioritize treating the wounded. As for the soldiers' remains... we'll keep them here properly, mark the spot, and send someone to solemnly bring them back once the crisis in the town has subsided. The Mother Goddess witnessed their loyalty; their souls have returned home, and their bodies... will finally find peace."

His arrangement was reasonable and put Herbert and the others at ease.

"Yes, Your Excellency," Herbert replied respectfully, then turned to arrange for people to make makeshift stretchers to escort the seriously wounded away first.

Taking advantage of the moment when Herbert and the others were busy, the fake archbishop turned his gaze to Qu Xianqing again. A look of solemnity appeared on his face, and he lowered his voice and said, "Ms. Qu Xianqing, although the crisis of the ghost baby has been temporarily resolved, we all know that since we have fallen into the trap, it means that the situation in the town is more complicated and critical than we imagined."

He paused, seemingly considering his words: "There are too many people around here, and there are some things about follow-up operations and higher-level classified missions that I cannot discuss in detail here. Could you please come with me to a secluded spot outside the cave so we can discuss this in detail?"

Qu Xianqing raised his eyes, his cool gaze lingering on Qu Xianqing's face for two seconds, as if scrutinizing something.

The fake archbishop met her gaze calmly.

Finally, Qu Xianqing nodded slightly and uttered a single word: "Okay."

She stood up, the movement aggravating her wounds, causing tiny beads of blood to seep out again.

Seeing this, the fake archbishop's eyes revealed a hint of worry: "Your injury... I'm sorry, I don't have the strength to use my holy light to heal you right now. We'll wait until we get back to the church—"

"It's alright," Qu Xianqing interrupted him. "Let's talk about this later. It's more important to sort out the situation first."

The fake archbishop said no more, made a "please" gesture, and took the lead in walking towards the cave exit.

Qu Xianqing followed silently behind him. The two of them, one in front and one behind, passed through the cave filled with the stench of blood and sorrow, emerged from the cave entrance, and arrived under the dim light of the silent hills. (End of this chapter)