Edward's gaze remained calm as he glanced at the hesitant steward beside him.
"Lead the way."
The steward nodded quickly, his mind still reeling with surprise.
This young man had once been known throughout the town as a degenerate gambler, frequenting casinos and brothels.
Now, he stood calm and composed, even before a figure as intimidating as the priest.
As the three walked on, the steward's thoughts were in turmoil.
When their figures disappeared from view, Mr. Smith finally breathed a sigh of relief, hurriedly turning to address the priest and deacon.
"My apologies to both of you. Edward's urgency is merely because he's focused on his duties.
Please, don't take it to heart."
The priest raised a hand dismissively, his face darkened, and without another word, followed after Edward with a sweep of his long sleeve, adding an edge of tension to the atmosphere.
Trailing behind him, the deacon asked in a low voice, "Are you well-acquainted with him?"
"Never met," the priest replied coldly, his voice laced with contempt.
"I hadn't imagined he'd be such a brainless fool."
The deacon raised an eyebrow, responding with a flat, "Oh."
The priest suddenly halted, casting a sharp look at him with a low warning.
"You're new from Willow City and think this place is small, but it's deeper than you realize."
At these words, the deacon's face changed slightly.
He held back further comment.
…
Edward and Richard followed the steward into a dim side room.
The air was thick with the stench of blood, pungent enough to sicken anyone.
The steward's hands trembled slightly as he lifted a corner of the white sheet, revealing the body on the bed.
One look was enough to chill Richard to the bone.
Morgan's corpse was barely recognizable, his once sturdy frame ravaged beyond belief, with only a portion of his left arm remaining.
His abdomen had a horrifying gaping wound, hollowed out of its internal organs.
The face was even more gruesome, with empty, vacant eye sockets, his nose gnawed off, and the entire right side of his face reduced to stark, exposed bone, devoid of muscle or tissue.
The steward barely held back his fear, shutting his eyes tightly as he rubbed his face with both hands, attempting to quell the creeping chill.
Edward cast a cold glance over the body, his face impassive.
Richard, however, raised his hand to his nose, trying to block out the stench.
With furrowed brows, Richard examined the mutilated corpse.
"No one knows how he died?"
The steward sighed, his face tense with conflicting emotions, glancing back at Edward as if debating something. Finally, he spoke in a low voice.
"The one who found Morgan wasn't even someone from the Smith household."
He paused, considering his words carefully, then lowered his voice further.
"There's something else, though I don't know if I should mention it.
When our young master returned from a long journey, his temperament seemed mostly unchanged, but strangely enough, he seemed to have forgotten many things—even some family members."
The steward's face grew more hesitant, tinged with a mix of discontent and a hint of frustration.
After a sigh, he continued, seemingly unable to hold back.
"Half a month ago, the young master mentioned he had a 'friend' from afar who wished to stay with us for a time.
We thought little of it until the 'friend' arrived—a young woman.
To outsiders, the situation may seem suspicious… but please, keep this to yourselves."
The steward's voice dropped further, his gaze betraying a hint of fear as he added, "Morgan's body… it was found in that woman's room."
Richard and Edward exchanged a glance, their expressions immediately serious.
"Before you arrived, the priest spoke with her personally.
Afterward, he assured Mr. Smith that Morgan's death was unrelated to her, though I'm not sure even Mr. Smith fully believes that."
Richard took a step back, his gaze sharp as he asked, "Where is this woman now?"
"I'm right here."
A languid voice drifted in from the doorway.
In the entrance stood a woman in red, casually leaning against the doorframe.
Her slender fingers brushed lazily over her lips as she yawned, her bright eyes pausing on Edward for a moment with a faint, mocking smile.
Two small, sharp fangs glinted in her mouth, lending her a strangely wild look.
"Edward, you sure took your time."
She raised an eyebrow, her tone haughty and aloof, as if she were addressing a servant.
The steward, hearing this, broke out in a cold sweat, his palms damp.
The woman's origins were murky, but to openly taunt Edward like this? That was fearless.
Richard's face grew tense, his wariness piqued by her tone.
The arrogance and audacity in her voice reminded him of past encounters with demons; they often had that same haughty air.
He clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on his sword.
The woman in red let her gaze drift between Edward and Morgan's corpse, her lips curling with a hint of disdain.
Edward, standing beside the corpse, lifted his head, his voice steady as he looked at everyone in the room.
"Leave."
The steward hesitated briefly, then, not wanting to risk trouble, he quickly led the others out, glancing at Richard with a silent plea to follow.
Richard hesitated but, under Edward's calm gaze, slowly backed away, his grip on his sword tense, his eyes still on the red-clad woman.
Only Edward and the woman in red remained in the room.
The silence was heavy.
…
Outside, Richard stepped out, his brow furrowed with worry for Edward.
The priest and deacon, waiting outside, observed his expression with amusement.
A sneer tugged at the priest's lips, his tone dripping with derision.
"See that?" he said to the deacon, raising his voice so Richard could hear.
"Just a youngster, too full of himself. He may have some skill, but in the end, he's still human and needs to learn the hard way when he hits a wall."
The deacon lazily chewed a blade of grass, his eyes half-closed, and glanced briefly at the ground.
With a yawn, he muttered, "Just another fool."
Hearing this, the priest's smugness deepened.
Pointing in the direction of the room, his voice grew even more mocking.
"Every one of us here is gifted, well-versed in life and death. Does he really think his 'talent' is something rare?"
The priest's mocking tone grated on Richard.
He tightened his lips and cast the priest a sidelong look.
The priest sensed Richard's disdain and turned, his eyes chilling, as he met Richard's gaze with a blade-sharp stare, fixing on him like a venomous serpent.
"What are you looking at?"
His voice was low, laced with menace, as he stared down Richard with a chilling gaze.
With a swift move, the priest's bony hand shot forward, emitting an icy aura that pressed heavily against Richard, nearly suffocating him.
Cold sweat beaded on Richard's brow as he instinctively wanted to retreat, but anger flared within him, pushing back his fear.
"Audacious!"
With a loud shout, Richard tightened his hold on the sword handle, drawing his sword in a flash of silver that aimed straight at the priest's face.