absurd deduction game.

Outside the cave, the light from the sky over the silent hills was dim and unclear, like amber covered in dust.

The twisted trees cast dappled shadows, and the air was filled with the dull smell of damp earth and decaying vegetation, mixed with a faint, unsettling sweetness—the filth left over from esoteric rituals.

The fake archbishop led Qu Xianqing forward for a while until they were completely away from the cave entrance, making sure that the sound would not be heard by the people inside. Then they stopped in a relatively open clearing in the forest, surrounded by tall, strange trees.

The fake archbishop was the first to stand still.

He slowly turned around to face Qu Xianqing, who was a step behind him. Although his red robe was stained with dust and bloodstains, it still maintained a strange sense of solemnity, as if the filthy environment was just the backdrop of a stage beneath his feet, and he was an actor with passable acting skills.

“Miss Investigator,” the fake archbishop began, his voice still steady, but with a hint of coldness that was barely perceptible, perhaps a reflection of his true nature, compared to when he was in the cave. “You must have already noticed that the Church has spies within the cult.”

Qu Xianqing stood still and said, "Yes, after today's events, anyone with a brain will not doubt this conclusion."

The fake archbishop nodded slightly in agreement: "Therefore, before we find all the informants, even our conversations must not be overheard by others."

Qu Xianqing remained noncommittal, then reminded him, "There's no one here anymore, Archbishop. What exactly are your plans for me tomorrow?"

The fake archbishop smiled, and at this moment, his expression was no longer so similar to when he was pretending.

It subtly exudes a feminine charm.

He didn't rush to get to the so-called "main topic," but instead cast his gaze at the hazy outline of the mountains in the distance. His tone was heavy with elegance, as if he were sharing a sad secret: "Witnessing so many young lives pass away is always unsettling. They are like ears of wheat in the height of summer, falling in the wind and rain before they are fully ripe."

A soft sigh.

"However, evil will not stop because of our grief. The shadows that linger in the town are far deeper and older than we imagine."

His gaze refocused on Qu Xianqing, becoming sharp and intent, like a night owl locking onto its prey, but on the surface he still maintained the gentleness and entrustment of an elder: "Do you know what I was thinking when I was first transferred to the church in Yolikev Town?"

Qu Xianqing didn't know whether the "I" here referred to the archbishop or Sister Tian.

She shook her head honestly: "I'd like to hear the details."

The fake archbishop took a barely perceptible half-step forward, a movement concealed by his wide robe sleeves and natural body turn, and did not appear abrupt.

A faint scent, a mixture of aged spices and a certain cold, eerie aroma, drifted over as he approached.

“I’m thinking, there are so many evil things beneath this land. This town is like a breeding ground, it’s bound to attract what’s meant to be here… it’s destiny.”

"Destiny?" Qu Xianqing raised an eyebrow. "If others heard you say something like that, wouldn't they question your faith, Archbishop?"

The fake archbishop subconsciously straightened his red robes.

He then changed the subject: "It's just a fact. Of course, it's precisely because evil is more likely to breed here than elsewhere that I'm better prepared for the impending calamity."

"We've suffered heavy losses, and we must change our plans for tomorrow, so—"

“I hope you can be a part of this crucial plan, Miss Investigator.” His voice was low, carrying a sense of intimate urgency mixed with the weight of shared secrecy. “Your uniqueness… is exactly what we need. Some missions require forces that operate outside the established rules.”

"If you can do it, you will become a hero who saves Yorikef... or even the whole world."

Qu Xianqing's eyelashes trembled slightly, as if she was touched by this sudden "important task".

She remained silent for a moment, as if weighing her options, and finally, the lines on her icy face seemed to soften almost imperceptibly.

"The specifics?" she asked, her tone concise, but the coldness in her voice seemed to soften slightly due to the trust shown by the other party.

"Regarding the positioning of the core of the ceremony, and several individuals who require 'special attention'," the fake archbishop began to construct a trap with carefully woven, half-true, half-false intelligence, speaking slowly and cautiously, his words full of misleading implications, "we need to ensure that all threats are precisely eliminated before the final moment arrives."

"after……"

As he spoke, he naturally guided Qu Xianqing to move slightly into the shadow of an ancient tree with a particularly twisted and bizarre shape.

The location was more secluded and the lighting was dimmer, which allowed him to blend better into the shadowy background.

Qu Xianqing listened quietly, her sharp gaze softening slightly, revealing a calm focus on the matter at hand. As the conversation deepened, her body gradually relaxed.

The fake archbishop noticed this.

At the same time, the pale hand hidden in his sleeve had its fingertips slightly curled, as if it were gathering strength, or as if it were silently measuring the distance between itself and its target.

Just as his words reached a seemingly ordinary turning point, before the lingering echo of the syllables had completely dissipated in the damp air—

The solemnity and sincerity on the fake archbishop's face vanished instantly, like a thin mist blown away by the wind.

There was no grotesque distortion, no venomous roar; instead, there was an extreme, icy calm.

Those eyes, which once held compassion and weariness, were now as deep as an ancient well, reflecting no light, only pure calculation and indifference.

He spoke, his voice no longer mimicking the archbishop's steady male voice, but reverting to Sister Tian's unique, aged, hoarse yet soft and clear tone. The voice wasn't loud, but like cold spider silk, it precisely coiled around one's eardrums, carrying a chilling elegance and malice.
"The wonderful performance has come to an end, my dear child."

The word "child" was uttered so softly that it caught everyone off guard.

Before she finished speaking, his—or rather, her—right hand had already slipped out from the wide sleeve of her robe.

In his hand lay a simple, ancient-looking bone dagger, its entire body as black as ink jade. The dagger was no more than seven inches long, with beautiful lines and a dark luster flowing from its blade, radiating an extreme chill that devoured light and life.

There were no unnecessary movements, no signs of gathering strength.

Sister Tian's arm, like an elegant serpent, suddenly extended.

The short dagger sliced ​​through the air, creating a faint, almost inaudible whistling sound. Its trajectory was cunning and deadly, aimed directly at Qu Xianqing's pale neck!

This strike was swift, accurate, and ruthless, yet it was imbued with a certain blasphemous beauty.

"laugh--"

A very faint sound, like silk being torn, rang out. The blade of the dagger sliced ​​through the flesh without any resistance, precisely grazing the location of the carotid artery and trachea.

Qu Xianqing's body suddenly stiffened.

The focused expression on her face froze instantly, like a crack appearing on the surface of exquisite porcelain.

A vivid, realistic look of bewilderment, astonishment, and a hint of frustration at not being able to react in time appeared in her eyes.

She seemed to want to turn her head, to see the true face of the person beside her, but her bodily functions were forcibly interrupted at that moment.

Dark red blood, with a uniquely viscous texture, gushed out rapidly from the long but deep wound like a spring, instantly staining the skin of her neck and collar.

Sister Tian did not retreat immediately after landing a successful blow.

She even maintained the posture she had just struck, tilting her head slightly, and scrutinizing every subtle change in Qu Xianqing's expression with her deep and cold eyes.

In a daze, the fake archbishop's appearance, which was so convincing as to be mistaken for the real one, shattered in Qu Xianqing's pupils, revealing the true face beneath the illusion. The old nun, whom she had met many times in the church, straightened her back and gave her a smile.

The old nun's face showed no sign of smugness, only a calm, almost pious sense of satisfaction.

She watched as the life force rapidly drained away with the dark red blood, saw the dimming of the light in Qu Xianqing's eyes, and even nodded slightly: "Praise be to Mother Goddess."

Qu Xianqing's lips twitched slightly, as if she wanted to make a sound, but in the end only a faint whisper escaped.

Her body lost its support, and like a marionette with its strings cut, she fell backward softly and silently.

"despair."

A soft thud was the sound of a body falling onto the thick, soft pile of fallen leaves. It wasn't dull; instead, it carried an eerie gentleness.

She lay there, blood still flowing from the wound on her neck, spreading out in a dark red swamp beneath her.

Those eyes, once as clear and cold as stars, now stared unfocused at the gray sky divided by twisted branches, filled with a frozen, stunned look and a faint, incomprehensible silence.

Sister Tian slowly straightened up, gracefully withdrawing her hand. The black bone dagger had disappeared back into her sleeve at some point. She extended her other pale but well-maintained hand and gently brushed away a small drop of blood that had splashed onto her sleeve with her fingertips, her movements as gentle as if she were smoothing dew on a flower petal.

She lowered her eyes and took one last look at Qu Xianqing, who seemed lifeless on the ground. Her gaze was calm and unwavering, as if she were looking at an insignificant old object.

May nothingness embrace your soul.

Then, Sister Tian stopped and turned around. The hem of her red robe brushed against the fallen leaves without making a sound. Her figure disappeared gracefully and calmly into the depths of the dense shadows of the trees, as if she had never been there.

In the open space, only silence, the stench of blood, and the body lying motionless in a pool of blood, its eyes wide open in death, remained.

……

after awhile.

The little paper figure struggled to crawl out of Qu Xianqing's pocket.

It strolled up to Qu Xianqing's face, examined him for a moment, and then complained, "Such a deep cut, I can even see your... uh, what's this called again? I'm not good at biology."

Nobody wants to discuss the biological terms that appear on the cross-section of their neck.

The dead Qu Xianqing remained motionless, but glared at it: "...Don't bother me."

The little paper doll exaggeratedly clutched its chest, even though it didn't have a heart: "I'm just concerned about you. Although it's all part of the plan, it was the right thing to keep Yu Xing from seeing you like this, otherwise he would definitely have some dark thoughts—I mean, about the cult."

Qu Xianqing: "Heh, he probably hurts himself more for his plans... I'm just a shell without the ability to feel pain."

Carlos the paper doll: "But..."

"If you make any more noise, I'll put you back in." Qu Xianqing's voice remained flat, but it was full of threat.

The little paper figure immediately raised its hands in surrender: "Okay, okay."

It paused, its tone becoming slightly more serious, but still unable to hide the teasing tone that seemed to enjoy the drama: "Seriously, your neck is almost broken, how are you going to treat it? Or does this body have some kind of self-repairing ability?"

Qu Xianqing did not answer immediately.

A few seconds later, just when Carlos thought she was too lazy to pay attention to him, she suddenly raised one hand, stiffly supported herself on the ground, and then sat up straight!
As she moved, some dark red "blood" seeped out from the wound on her neck. She reached into the inside pocket of her trench coat and pulled out a roll of clean gauze, skillfully beginning to wrap it around the shocking crack on her neck.

“I need to fix it manually, but not for now.” She answered the little paper doll’s question while wrapping the gauze around her neck. Her voice was slightly muffled by the pressure of the gauze. “Anyway, it won’t affect the activity.”

In reality, she rarely repairs herself after each injury, since the system will restore her to her original state for free after she leaves the instance.

Unless she loses a leg or arm, causing a balance problem, she—that sinister soul hidden behind the body and residing in another dimension—would use her own power to repair the shell.

Of course, if she has teammates around who happen to have healing powers, her body can be healed just like an ordinary person.

The little paper doll watched her swift movements and the gruesome wound whose outline was still visible even after being covered by gauze. It shook its paper head and clicked its tongue twice: "As expected of Boss Qu~"

It hopped a couple of times, leaping onto a slightly higher rock so it could look Qu Xianqing, who was sitting, at eye level. Then it changed the subject, its tone full of mischievous speculation: "Hey, what do you think Sister Tian, ​​who impersonated the archbishop, will say to Herbert and the others when she's back in the cave that you didn't go back with them? 'Oh, that powerful investigator lady can't rejoin the team right now because I accidentally slit her throat'?"

Qu Xianqing had finished bandaging her neck. She pressed the gauze on her neck to make sure it was secure, then stood up expressionlessly and patted the withered leaves and dirt off her clothes.

Hearing the little paper doll's question, which was clearly nitpicking, she didn't even bother to lift her eyelids.

"A simple 'she has a secret mission and needs to act alone' is enough. In this situation, who would question the Archbishop?"

The little paper figure chuckled and conjured a tiny paper rose, tucking it into Qu Xianqing's hair: "I was just bored and wanted to chat with the beautiful corpse lady... Hmm, the church people have left the cave. Do you want to go back and check?"

From this point on, Qu Xianqing could also move behind the scenes like the actors. Returning to the town in secret was the proper course of action. She had no interest in going back to that cave. Anyway, she knew about the bodies of her companions that the surviving deacons and guards had painstakingly collected and temporarily piled together...

By now, it should have turned into a pile of rough paper figures. (End of Chapter)