Chapter 243: Playing Ghost

Chapter 243: Playing Ghost

Outside Bravehearts Bar, a rental carriage briskly drove past.

Inside the carriage, Klein, wearing a half-top silk hat, sat opposite Sharron, who was still dressed in her black gothic court gown.

Looking at the pale face of his former bodyguard, which showed no expression whatsoever, Klein found no way to make small talk and could only go straight to the point.

“I have finished preparing.”

Although Sequence 6, Faceless, had only brought him one new Beyonder ability, the ones he already possessed had all been noticeably enhanced. His strength had therefore increased tremendously, and that was the best preparation.

As for the Faceless’s own ability, in certain circumstances and certain situations, it could be called a divine skill!

For example, when being hunted down; for example, when wanting to infiltrate… Klein could not help letting his imagination spread inwardly.

Sharron quietly listened to the end, then spoke concisely.

“Tonight?”

Her final syllable rose slightly to indicate that she was asking.

“If you have no problem with it, then neither do I,” Klein answered, having long since been prepared.

“All right.” Sharron nodded once.

The scene fell briefly silent for several seconds. Klein considered for a moment, then asked again, “Have you heard anything about mermaids? Do you know where one might encounter those legendary creatures?”

Sharron’s blue eyes stared at Klein without blinking, as though she had turned into a true doll.

After a while, she said without any emotional fluctuation, “In places human footsteps can reach, mermaids no longer appear.

“Only the fishermen of the Gargas Archipelago, on long voyages to hunt white-tailed whales, occasionally hear mermaid songs amid storms.”

The Gargas Archipelago lay deep within the Sonia Sea. It was the farthest colony humanity possessed in those waters, known for products such as whale oil and whale meat.

I wonder whether that rumor is true or false… Klein nodded gently.

“I understand.”

…

The night bell quietly rang out, as though coming from an extremely distant place.

In the middle of Williams Street stood an abandoned chapel. Withered vines climbed across its walls, while gray stones had fallen everywhere.

Inside the chapel, excrement and debris crisscrossed, with piles of rock and dead grass scattered among them.

In a half-collapsed corner, a middle-aged man dressed in tight black clothing moved away the stones concealing a hole. Carrying digging tools, lighting equipment, and baskets for transporting earth, he carefully yet excitedly crawled into the tunnel.

His temples were graying, and the bags beneath his eyes were swollen. He was none other than Baronet Rafter Pound, externally believed to suffer from a mental illness, the hidden descendant of the Fourth Epoch Tudor family.

This foppish son of nobility, always entangled with high-class call girls, now wore a grave expression, his eyes bright. Not the slightest trace of indulgence in wine and women could be seen on him.

Supporting himself on his elbows, he swiftly crawled diagonally downward, as though at the end of the tunnel lay the greatest and only hope of his life.

Before long, he touched damp soil and cold stone ahead.

This did not extinguish Rafter Pound’s passion. He repeated the movements he had practiced to an extreme familiarity over this period of time.

Digging, moving, transporting. Suddenly, the space before him opened, revealing a dark underground palace.

Rafter Pound’s expression instantly turned frenzied with excitement. He abruptly leaned forward and grabbed an emblem of black iron.

On that emblem was a hand gripping a scepter. The sight made Rafter Pound’s eyes shine, as though they were burning.

No sooner had he pinned that black iron emblem to his chest than everything before his eyes shattered abruptly. He was still inside that narrow, irregular tunnel, while the front remained damp soil and cold stone.

No. Other than that, there was also a person there silently “watching” him.

It was a person with no eyes, no nose, no mouth, no eyebrows, and no ears!

Rafter Pound’s pupils contracted. He only felt a numbness rise from below his waist, climb along his spine, and shoot straight to the back of his head.

Without even thinking, he abandoned all his belongings and frantically retreated.

His elbows struck the ground again and again, the flesh battered and bleeding, yet he felt not the slightest pain.

Finally, Rafter Pound left the tunnel and returned to the abandoned chapel.

Because he had lost the storm lantern, all he could now see was deep darkness and the dim “crimson” shrouding its edges.

Suddenly, the withered vines crawling across the wall swayed like snakes, and a figure emerged from the night.

She wore a gothic court gown and a small black soft hat. Her face was so pale it was nearly transparent, and she had pale-gold hair and blue eyes unlike those of ordinary humans.

Rafter Pound nearly shouted aloud. In such an environment, the appearance of such a woman was no different from the ghost stories of folklore!

Tap. Tap. Tap!

He retreated several steps and nearly tripped over a stone.

At that moment, he seemed to recall something. He suppressed his fear at once and revealed an expression woven from trepidation and hope, excitement and anticipation.

“You, you are the evil spirit inside the underground palace?

“Yes. It must be you!”

Lord Baronet, you seem to have misunderstood something… The Faceless Klein crawled out of the tunnel and quietly stood inside the shadows.

His and Sharron’s original plan had been to play ghost and scare Rafter Pound away—frighten him so thoroughly that he would never dare come pry into the underground ruins again. But the other party’s reaction was somewhat beyond their expectations.

Sharron remained still for one second, then asked as though tacitly admitting it, “What do you want to say?”

Rafter Pound silently breathed out and hooked up the corners of his mouth.

“After so many years of trying, I believe you should already understand that killing descendants of the Tudor family cannot help you break the seal.

“Only by cooperating with me, who carries the great bloodline of Tudor, can you hope to escape the predicament that has lasted more than two thousand years.”

The Tudor family knew of the evil spirit’s existence, yet still died inside that room… Klein frowned in doubt and, before Sharron could speak, deliberately pulled his throat and imitated her illusory, drifting voice:

“Why did you only come today?”

This was a branch of the Faceless’s Beyonder ability—imitating a target’s voice. As long as he had heard it before, he could reproduce it!

Of course, Klein believed he could not repeat the True Creator’s ravings or Mr. Door’s cry for help. This Beyonder ability was, for now, still limited to the realm of ordinary humans.

Sharron covertly turned her head and glanced at him, but did not expose him.

Rafter Pound did not notice. He chuckled and said, “Because the Black Emperor has appeared.

“Fate tells me that the glory of the Blood Emperor is about to reappear!”

What logical connection is there? Klein inexplicably felt that today’s Rafter Pound seemed even more like a madman than before.

He again used Sharron’s voice to ask, “Black Emperor?”

“Haha.” Rafter Pound laughed once. “Yes. The chivalrous bandit Black Emperor. He must certainly have a close connection to the true Black Emperor!”

Why don’t I know about that? Klein found it rather funny.

After some thought, he no longer spoke, relinquishing the right to ask questions.

For some reason, Sharron also remained silent.

Seeing this, Rafter Pound’s heart stirred with joy. He hurriedly pressed the question, “Then what is your answer?”

“I refuse,” Sharron replied without a shred of emotion.

Rafter suppressed his anxiety and attempted to persuade the other party further.

At that moment, his eyes suddenly went blank. He abruptly took a few steps to the side and arrived before a relatively intact stone wall.

This… Klein and Sharron noticed the abnormality at the same time and each responded in their own way. One drew his revolver and aimed at Rafter Pound; the other made crimson moonlight spill across the ruined chapel.

Rafter Pound did not even glance at them. Facing the stone wall, he tensed his waist and back and slammed his head heavily against it.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

He struck it three times in a row and collapsed unconscious with blood flowing from his forehead.

Immediately afterward, he climbed back up. For some reason, his eyes had become completely bloodshot.

Rafter Pound raised his right hand and wiped his forehead, covering his palm in blood.

He extended the tip of his tongue, licked the crimson liquid, and said in intoxication, “Tudor blood truly is delicious, enough to make one drunk.

“This will make my hatred surpass its limits to the greatest extent and help me temporarily widen the boundary of the seal.”

Klein’s gun barrel remained aimed at the other party as he asked, somewhat stunned, “The evil spirit inside the ruins?”

Threads of blood slid down Rafter Pound’s face. His smile was rather horrifying.

“You guessed correctly.

“I previously judged your strength to be weak and wanted to corrupt your mind, enter your dreams, and entice you into rescuing me. Who could have known—heh—that you are also someone with secrets.”

Don’t say it so directly… Klein subconsciously glanced at Sharron and discovered that she showed no abnormality.

“What do you want to do?” Klein directly asked in return.

The evil spirit sighed.

“I am merely an innocent victim harmed by Alista Tudor’s ambition. Bound by my corpse, I have been trapped in those underground ruins for nearly or over two thousand years.

“I hope you will help me escape this predicament and allow me to become a free spirit. I swear that I will not harm innocent people.”

At this point, he looked at Sharron with eyes filled with blood vessels.

“You should be a Wraith of the Mutant pathway. Your next step is the key threshold to becoming a demigod. I do not know whether you have the Puppet potion formula, but I can help you obtain it, or even become part of your ritual. This is the reward I promise.”

Puppet. Sequence 4 of the Mutant pathway is called Puppet? What a strange name… Klein muttered inwardly.

The evil spirit turned to look at him.

“You will receive a reward as well.

“It is an item that can be called wondrous and precious. Because of a certain degree of attraction, its owner came to the underground palace and died beside the Tudor descendants.

“This is what it looks like.”

As he spoke, the evil spirit opened his palm, allowing the crimson moonlight to condense into an image.

Within the image was a normal-sized tarot card. Its design was completely different from any other card. Seated inside the chariot was not a king, but a male priest wearing a deep-red robe.

The priest’s appearance was unmistakably Roselle Gustav!

This… A Card of Blasphemy! Klein’s gaze shifted instantly, and he saw a line of words condensed from starlight in the upper-left corner:

“Sequence 0: Red Priest!”