absurd deduction game.

As soon as the performer finished speaking, a beam of light suddenly appeared on the horizon.

A solid, thick beam of golden light, carrying illusory grains of wheat, tore through the dark red sky from the direction of the cemetery and shot straight toward the perimeter of the manor.

The beam of light was over three meters in diameter, with liquid-like golden light flowing inside. Countless plump and sacred grains of wheat swirled and collided within it, making a rustling sound even though they were not solid objects.

Wherever it passed, the polluted air was forcibly purified, the dark red cloud vortex was pierced, leaving a passage that temporarily restored clarity.

Then, before anyone outside the manor could react, the beam of light struck the swarm of butterflies.

The dark green butterfly melted the moment it came into contact with the golden light, just like a snowflake hitting a hot iron.

Wings, torso, compound eyes... all structures disintegrated in an instant, turning into fine golden specks of light, which were then absorbed and assimilated by the rotating grains of wheat in the beam of light.

Thousands of butterflies vanished in the beam of light, a spectacular yet eerie sight, as if wiped away by an invisible giant hand, leaving behind a clean, fan-shaped airspace.

At the edge of the airspace, butterflies that were lucky enough to escape from being directly hit frantically flapped their wings in an attempt to escape, but the golden specks on their wings were like a persistent infection, quickly spreading throughout their bodies and turning them into light dust within seconds.

The beam attack lasted for about five seconds.

Five seconds later, the golden light dissipated, leaving only a faint scent of wheat in the air and a clean, pristine path on the ground, devoid of any vegetation.

Nearly a third of the swarms of butterflies that were active around the manor were wiped out, and the runes were also destroyed.

The church team, which was struggling, was stunned.

Everyone looked up, fighting while glancing in the direction from which the beam of light came.

A middle-aged deacon was the first to react. His eyes widened, and his voice trembled with excitement: "This...this is Deacon Herbert's aura! It's his unique 'Wrath of Harvest'!"

“Deacon Herbert? Didn’t he die on a mission?!” a young guard next to him blurted out.

No one answered him.

Because the answer has already appeared on its own.

Shortly after the beam of light disappeared, a group of people rushed out from a street corner not far away. They were all dressed in church-issue armor or dark robes, carrying weapons, and exuding a strong, warm, and holy aura.

The leader was a burly middle-aged man, none other than Herbert, the deacon who should have been dead.

He lives.

Not only was he alive, but he was also full of energy and his aura was stronger than before. The holy sword in his hand had been replaced by a two-handed warhammer, the head of which was engraved with harvest runes and was now flowing with a faint golden light.

Behind him were other "dead" battle priests and guards, each with an expression of anger and excitement, their eyes burning with strange flames.

Tian stood at the front of the group, his pupils suddenly contracting.

Her gaze was fixed on Herbert, and on the familiar faces behind him—each one of whom she had personally confirmed was "dead," each one of whom she had planned should have already become a corpse.

"What's going on?!" she blurted out, her voice losing its usual composure as an imitation of the archbishop for the first time, revealing genuine shock. However, her voice was not loud and was drowned out by the surrounding exclamations and sounds of battle, and no one noticed.

Faced with the onrushing compatriots, the priests at the manor gate were first shocked, then became wary.

In such a polluted environment teeming with monsters, the sudden appearance of a group of "dead people" would make anyone suspect that they are some kind of evil illusion or undead in disguise.

But when Herbert and his men rushed closer, the overwhelming and pure sacred aura that washed over them shattered their doubts instantly.

That aura couldn't be faked.

It is the power of the blessing of the Mother Goddess of Harvest, an energy fluctuation unique to believers of the true God, and completely opposite to pollution.

"Butler Herbert! It really is you!"

"You're not dead?!"

"By Mother Goddess... what is going on...?"

The priests erupted in shouts of surprise and confusion. Seeing their fallen comrades return in their desperate situation brought tears to the eyes of many.

Herbert didn't stop. He charged through the crowd, swung his warhammer, smashing several butterflies trying to regroup into dust, then turned and roared at everyone:

"Now is not the time for explanations! Charge in! Destroy that altar!"

His voice was rough yet powerful, striking the hearts of everyone like a war drum.

"Yes! Let's attack first!"

"Go with Deacon Herbert!"

Morale soared instantly.

The previously collapsing force regrouped, with the remaining guards and combat priests spontaneously moving towards Herbert to join the fresh troops rushing in from the cemetery.

The two teams merged, and the number of people returned to about fifty or sixty. Moreover, the new group of people were in good condition and their combat effectiveness was significantly stronger.

With their combined efforts, the restrictions surrounding the manor began to crumble.

Herbert's main church force was clearly well-prepared.

They no longer charged blindly as when Tian led them, but instead formed a standard battle formation—shield-wielding guards in front, some deacons in the center providing magical support, and deacons and guards skilled in melee combat roaming the flanks to clear out enemies.

The golden holy light surged forward like a tide.

The swarm of butterflies was purified in large numbers, and the fleshy bed sizzled and screamed under the scorching holy light, the fleshy layer quickly drying out and carbonizing.

The monsters transformed from the manor's materials could not withstand the intense bombardment of divine magic and collapsed one after another.

The defense line has been breached.

The team is about to breach the manor gates.

Tian mingled in the group, pretending to unleash a purification field, his expression shifting unpredictably.

Her mind raced. How did Herbert and the others survive? Who saved them? Did Fernail know about this catastrophic blunder in the plan? What should she do now…?

But there was no time to think about it in detail.

Because in that instant when she was distracted—

A chilling, pure killing intent locked onto her.

It wasn't the malice brought by pollution, nor the monster's frenzied desire to attack, but a precise, rational, and purposeful killing intent.

Di Anquan felt a chill run down his spine.

Before she could even think, her body reacted instinctively, sweeping the silver scepter in her hand backward while lunging to the side to create distance.

"clang!!!"

The scepter made a crisp sound as metal snapped in half.

The cross-section was as smooth as a mirror, like butter sliced ​​with a hot knife. At the break, the remaining holy light energy dissipated rapidly like a deflated balloon.

Tian felt a chill in her chest.

She lowered her head.

A thin line of blood stretched diagonally downwards from the left shoulder to the right rib. At first, it was just a red line, but the next second, blood gushed out of the wound like a fountain, soaking the front of the red robe.

Then came the excruciating pain, as if a red-hot iron rod had been stabbed into my chest cavity, shattering my lungs and ribs.

She staggered backward, leaving bloody footprints with each step. Finally, she couldn't hold on any longer and knelt on one knee, clutching her chest with her right hand to try to stop the bleeding, but warm liquid continued to seep out between her fingers.

She struggled to lift her head, her pupils suddenly contracting.

There is a person standing in front of me.

...Qu Xianqing.

She appeared here at some unknown time, wearing a black coat that allowed her to move around easily, her long hair tied in a high ponytail, her face expressionless, only her eyes were cold and calm, like the surface of a frozen lake.

Qu Xianqing held a blood-red sword in his hand. The blade was extremely thin, and the edges were oozing blood energy that was almost invisible to the naked eye. At this moment, the tip of the sword was pressed against Tian's throat, only half an inch away from his skin.

The surrounding priests then realized what was happening.

"archbishop!"

"What...what did you do to the archbishop?!"

"Why attack the archbishop!"

Exclamations, questions, and angry curses rang out simultaneously.

Several of the nearest guards instinctively drew their weapons and rushed toward Qu Xianqing.

Tian coughed up blood, a venomous glint in his eyes, but a hint of grief and confusion appeared on his face.

She stared at Qu Xianqing and spoke in the tone of an "archbishop," one tinged with heartache and disappointment:
"Ms. Qu Xianqing...you...you betrayed us? You betrayed the Mother Goddess, you betrayed everyone who trusted you?"

These words are like a torch thrown into an oil drum.

The surrounding priests became even more agitated. They were already exhausted from fighting the monster, and they could not accept being betrayed by their ally.

"lay down your weapon!"

"What on earth do you want to do?!"

Two guards at the forefront had already swung their swords at Qu Xianqing's back.

Qu Xianqing didn't even turn around.

She raised her left hand and gently blocked outwards with the back of her hand, the force neither too light nor too heavy.

"boom!"

The two guards were thrown back as if they had crashed into an invisible iron wall, landing on the ground a meter away. Their weapons fell from their hands, but they were unharmed.

The others who wanted to rush forward froze.

Only then did they notice that Qu Xianqing was standing within the protective aura of holy light surrounding the "Archbishop".

That's a unique ability of the cardinal, automatically repelling all malicious energy, thus resisting pollution and monster attacks. Theoretically, anyone carrying malice who enters this area, except for the cardinal himself and those he authorizes, will be severely suppressed and burned.

But Qu Xianqing, standing inside, was completely unaffected.

The blood-red blade even absorbed some of the dissipated golden light, making the blood mist on the blade even denser.

“Take a closer look.” Qu Xianqing finally spoke, his voice calm and undisturbed. “Who exactly is your archbishop?”

As soon as she finished speaking, she moved her wrist slightly.

The blood sword swiftly sliced ​​across Tian's throat, leaving a deep, bone-revealing wound identical to the one Tian had inflicted on her in the western forest of the town.

In a sense, she really holds grudges.

Blood splattered everywhere under the sword.

"Ugh... Ah..." Tian clutched her neck, letting out a painful groan.

Due to the severity of her injuries, she could no longer maintain her disguise and transformation. Her originally tall body, which conformed to the image of a red-robed archbishop, began to shrink. Her bones made a faint "crackling" sound, and her muscles and skin contracted inward. In just three seconds, she transformed from a tall man of about 1.8 meters into a slender woman who was less than 1.7 meters tall.

The dignified and benevolent "archbishop's face" had vanished, replaced by the face of the old nun Tian—though aged, one could still discern the delicate features of her youth, now distorted by pain and resentment.

The wide red robe still clung to Tian, ​​but because of her shrunken size, it hung loosely, the hem trailing on the ground, and the sleeves so long they covered her hands. She looked out of place, like a child wearing an adult's clothes.

The surrounding priests were completely dumbfounded.

Their eyes widened, their mouths agape, frozen in place as if under a spell.

"This...this is..."

"Sister Tian? How could this be..."

"Where is the archbishop? She's not the real archbishop! Where is she?!"

In the chaos, Herbert's voice boomed like thunder:
"Look carefully! This archbishop is a cultist in disguise. Sister Tian has long since fallen into cultism! She was the one who colluded with the cultists to lure us to our deaths in the west of the town!"

He roared as he swung his warhammer to swoop down the swarming butterflies:

"It was Ms. Qu Xianqing and the other investigators who saved us. Today, this imposter also wants to bring you here to your deaths and undermine the faith in the Mother Goddess!"

These words were like a bucket of ice water, waking everyone up.

Connecting the dots—the previously overlooked details about the "archbishop" all came to light, and everything became clear.

"Asshole!!!"

“Kill her!!!”

An angry roar replaced the confusion, and flames ignited in the priests' eyes—the raging fury of being deceived, betrayed, and witnessing the needless death of their comrades.

Many people had already turned their weapons and pointed them at Tian, ​​who was curled up on the ground.

Tian lay on the ground, her wound still bleeding.

But what tormented her even more was not the physical trauma, but the burning sensation on a spiritual level.

Within the wounds left by the blood sword, a cold and violent power was eroding her soul. It was not a purifying force, nor was it filth or pollution; rather, it was a pure, deadly attack targeting the very essence of her soul. She could feel her memories, emotions, and consciousness being torn apart and devoured bit by bit by that power.

She stared at the blood-stained sword, and fear finally showed in her eyes.

“It can… kill souls…” Tian murmured, his voice broken by pain, “Its evil is unprecedented… You should be… on our side…”

Qu Xianqing gently curled her lips.

It was a very shallow, almost invisible arc, but it was full of irony.

"Are you envious?" She tilted her head slightly, her tone as calm as if stating a fact. "Unfortunately. The archbishop's position is not yours, and my power—is not yours either."

She lifted her foot and stepped on Tian's chest.

Qu Xianqing leaned slightly closer to Tian's ear and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear:
"Were you gloating over your performance when you killed me in the woods?"

"Actually, in my eyes—"

She paused, her voice growing even colder.

"You're just a clown."

Tian's body began to tremble violently.

Her face, usually wrinkled yet still possessing an elegant contour, was now completely contorted. Her eyes glared at Qu Xianqing, wanting to say something, to curse, to retaliate with the most vicious words—

But Qu Xianqing didn't give her a chance.

The blood sword rose and fell.

The movements were clean and efficient, without a single unnecessary action.

The sword blade sliced ​​across Tian's neck again, snapping her already precarious neck completely.

Tian's head rolled to the ground, his face still frozen with that twisted anger and resentment. The headless corpse twitched twice, then remained completely still.

Qu Xianqing stood up.

She flicked her sword, dispersing the remaining impure energy on it, and then looked up towards the main building.

The sound wasn't loud, but it carried clearly throughout the entire venue.

"Let's break in." (End of Chapter)