My Name Is Xian Zong, I Like Sacrifices Most

Wellington is twelve years old this year, the child of a carpenter.

He has no mother; his mother died during childbirth. At the same time, he is not blessed by the Holy Light.

There are only very few Light Elements within his body.

The vast majority of his body is occupied by darkness. Although the concentration is far from that of Ansu, a 'Child of Curse' among one in ten thousand, he still bears the derogatory nickname 'Child of Darkness'.

Unlike Ansu, little Wellington's childhood was not as fortunate as the former's. This is despite the fact that the Dark Elements within the latter are still far less concentrated than those on Ansu.

His father blamed him for his mother's death and kicked him out of the house when he was only six years old.

Little Wellington couldn't find work either. No restaurant or general store was willing to hire a Child of Darkness.

Wellington survived by begging, enduring all sorts of discrimination and insults—this is also the childhood of many children of curse.

Despite the hardships, he slowly managed to survive in this city.

As usual, before the morning dew had soaked the entire morning, he got out of bed, holding his tattered little bowl, and crawled out of the dark, damp sewer to beg for his three meals at the morning market.

If he was late, the Urban Management Officers would wake up and drive them away.

If he was lucky, he might even find one or two dead, rotten fish. Paired with the mushrooms he gathered, that would be enough for him to eat for the day.

Wellington's wish was to taste what cake was like. He heard from his grandmother that children who tasted cake were loved by heaven, blessed children who could enter paradise after death.

Unfortunately, his grandmother was already dead, and he never got to taste what cake was like.

He was turning thirteen this year. He had lived like this in this city for thirteen years, making a living by begging, until today.

That uncle didn't look like a city management officer. He wore a hood, and his face couldn't be seen clearly. He told Wellington that if he followed the uncle, there would be cake.

Wellington followed him.

But he didn't get to taste cake.

Wellington was put into a sack and shoved onto a horse-drawn carriage.

He shouted loudly, knowing that perhaps passersby heard his voice, but who would care? Who would care about a little beggar, a Child of Darkness being kidnapped?

With them gone, the city would be a little cleaner.

Every day, people were kidnapped in this city, and every day, people went missing.

Even the Saints of the Holy See wouldn't care if a beggar was kidnapped.

What they wanted was to eradicate the dens of heresy to gain Faith Points for the Goddess.

The more frequent the kidnappings, the easier it was for the dens of heresy to be exposed.

Wellington didn't know how far he had been transported. Perhaps he had already left the city and arrived in a desolate wilderness. He could feel that it was already dark, and the surroundings were terribly quiet.

When his blindfold was removed, Wellington saw an altar.

White skulls were piled on the altar, and blazing torches cast blood-like light everywhere. Men wearing brilliant golden masks surrounded the altar, chanting loudly.

The uncle who drove the carriage pushed him onto the altar.

"Any last words?"

Little Wellington didn't know what would happen next. He had no concept of sacrifice, but he understood that he was about to face death. Unparalleled fear descended upon his mind.

"I... I haven't eaten cake yet," he stammered. "I haven't eaten cake yet."

He hadn't eaten cake yet, and he couldn't enter paradise after death.

Wellington wasn't afraid of death, but he knew his grandmother had been a good person her whole life, so good people would surely go to heaven.

But he was a Child of Darkness, he wasn't a good person, he hadn't eaten cake, and he wasn't blessed by the Holy Light, so he couldn't enter paradise.

Then he wouldn't be able to reunite with his grandmother.

His grandmother had been waiting for him in heaven for six years.

For these six years, he had been trying to save money, trying to survive, wanting to buy a cake to taste. Once he ate it, he could go to heaven to find his grandmother, and then he could die in peace.

But his money always disappeared, perhaps taken by the Urban Management Officers, perhaps by thieves.

He hadn't eaten cake yet, and he was about to die.

He would break his promise to his grandmother—this was what little Wellington feared the most.

The Priest listened to little Wellington's words and sneered dismissively.

"Boring. The Mother Goddess won't like it. You'd better cry out loud, then the Mother Goddess will be pleased."

Wellington's shoulders trembled, and he closed his eyes.

Just as the Priest was about to prepare to perform the ritual, he suddenly heard a commotion from outside.

He immediately felt a sense of foreboding. Could the location of their stronghold have been exposed?

Then, a subordinate cultist ran over and said to the Priest with a strange expression, "It's just a young man. No one else is with him."

"A young man?" The Priest's eyes widened.

"Yes." The cultist paused, his expression odd, and said, "He said he wants to attend our orgy."

"Moreover, I can sense that the Dark Elements within him are not low."

The priest quickly spotted the young man:

He was escorted in by several esoteric cultists, wearing thick cotton-padded clothes and gray pants, looking quite bulky, with a hood to protect him from the cold. He had a very intelligent face and eyes that revealed a certain clarity and wisdom.

"Give me a ride."

He looked very shy and polite, rubbing his hands together as soon as he entered, showing a fawning smile. "One is a sacrifice, two is a sacrifice."

What kind of heroic getup is this?

The priest almost laughed in anger.

Did this kid think this was fun, this was exciting?

"What's your name?" the priest asked.

"Um, I like sacrificing. I feel like it's very interesting. My dream is to become the Pope of the Holy See when I grow up."

The boy thought for a moment, then said, "Just call me Xian Zong."

Xian Zong?

What an arrogant name.

The priest felt the child was fooling him.

His anger immediately flared up. "Alright, Xian Zong, come here."

After working this job for so many years, this was the first time he had ever encountered someone who voluntarily came to be sacrificed!

He had no respect for his profession at all!

Never mind if there was some trick involved, If he didn't sacrifice this kid today, he'd have lived all these years in vain!

He had his subordinates prepare the materials and pushed the boy next to Wellington.

Wellington stared at the newcomer. "Are you also a Child of Darkness? Have you eaten cake?"

"Cake?" The person was taken aback.

"Because we are sinners," Wellington said. "Only by eating cake can we go to heaven."

"Have you ever stolen anything?" the person asked.

"No."

"Have you ever robbed anyone?"

"No."

"Then why do you think you are a sinner?"

"Because... they say we are sinful."

"I don't think we are sinful,"

Xian Zong turned his head, his eyes hidden under the hood, reflecting a brilliant light.

"Child, you are not sinful. They are the ones who are sinful. You should live with more pride."

He said softly, "Now close your eyes, cover your ears, Enya, use stealth magic to block his five senses—count sixty seconds in your heart, yes, just like that. When you leave here, go to Morningstar Manor and ask the Deacon for a piece of cake. You know they'll give it to you."

"Yes, just close your eyes and cover your ears. Be good, don't open your eyes."

"I've come to sacrifice their sins."

For some reason, Wellington chose to believe him. He closed his eyes, covered his ears, and silently counted down in his heart.

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

"..."

Wellington didn't know what was happening around him. He vaguely heard the boy's low chanting, but couldn't make out the specific words.

The surroundings were eerily quiet.

Wellington finally counted to sixty and opened his eyes.

He found that everything around him had disappeared.

Those terrifying men were gone without a trace. The cold moonlight shone on the altar, as if covered with layer upon layer of silver frost.

The big brother beside him was also gone, replaced by a small bag of coins.

That sharp jacket, those handsome cotton pants, and that face, so unpretentious yet revealing a subtle clarity and wisdom, were deeply imprinted in young Wellington's mind, as clear as a firefly in the dark night.

"Brother Xian Zong?"

A dream quietly sprouted in the boy's heart.

Thanks to my good brother Xi Xi for his recommendation and help. Xi Xi's book was truly amazing back in our old neighborhood.