Underground Assembly Hall

The figures in robes and hoods naturally noticed Duncan standing right in the middle of the road without any intention of dodging.

Duncan was still in the same state as when he had just left the cave—a thin, withered body wrapped in tattered clothes, a makeshift cloth covering the hole in his chest. He stood blatantly in the center of the road, looking as if he had been startled by the sudden appearance of the "hooded figures"—and those robed figures were clearly taken aback as well. They froze for a moment, then the leader suddenly shouted, "A sacrifice has escaped!"

Then Duncan saw them charging toward him, another one yelling as he ran, "Quick! Stop him! Don't let him get away!"

Duncan shrugged, merely continuing to watch these figures—who looked anything but friendly—with a blank expression. After weighing the situation, he had no intention of running at all, but the others kept shouting as they rushed over, "Don't let him escape!" "A sacrifice got away!"

Yet Duncan's honest stance of standing still in the middle of the road made the atmosphere awkward instead. Those running toward him clearly sensed something was off halfway through, their shouts involuntarily dying down, though they had to keep coming. Duncan could almost smell embarrassment mixed with irritation beneath their dark hoods—and then these embarrassed, irritated people surrounded him from all sides.

Only then did Duncan glance around at the figures encircling him. After a moment's hesitation, he said, "Should I have run just now? I mean, the mood was set..."

The robed figures seemed not to hear Duncan's cold joke. They just watched him warily and cautiously, then looked toward the direction behind him. Two of them quickly lowered their heads to exchange a few words, and Duncan caught fragments of their conversation:

"Why did one get out?"

"Could the Church hyenas have found this hideout... but he doesn't look like someone they released..."

"Take him back for now. This escaped sacrifice is off... needs to be dealt with quickly."

"Let the Emissary decide."

Duncan had no idea who these people were, nor what the "Emissary" they mentioned meant. But connecting what he'd seen along the way with the word "sacrifice," he had already guessed some of the truth here.

He didn't know how a "normal sacrifice" should react, and he had no intention of playing along with their "performance." Outside the Lost Homeland, using a temporary shell, he had far fewer concerns. So after a brief observation of his surroundings, he simply asked, "Where are you taking me?"

The robed figures were clearly surprised to hear the "sacrifice" speak so calmly. Though their hoods were covered with black veils that completely hid their faces, Duncan could still sense their shock. One of the black-robed figures glared viciously at the "sacrifice" through the veil, his voice low and harsh: "You have no right to ask—take him away!"

Several black-robed figures stepped forward, but before they could act, Duncan took a step forward on his own: "No need to touch me. I'll go with you."

The black-robed figures exchanged glances, probably thinking the "sacrifice" in front of them was mentally off. But the leader waved a hand: "That's best. You can't escape anyway... Follow us, and you might still face glory with dignity."

The black-robed figures closed in around Duncan, blocking all his "escape" routes from front, back, left, and right, and led him deeper into the sewer.

The stench and filth of the sewer were nauseating, but the black-robed figures walked calmly along the moldy, grimy path as if they noticed nothing. Duncan remained silent, expressionless, following them while listening closely to their conversations—they spoke little among themselves, but in the few exchanges, Duncan caught useful words like "Pland," "Archon," and "Church."

"Is this the Pland City-State?" Duncan suddenly spoke, as casually as if chatting with an acquaintance.

"No kidding..." one black-robed figure replied instinctively, then caught himself and shot Duncan a bewildered look, "You're pretty calm, kid. Do you know what's coming?"

"I can guess," Duncan nodded, even smiling slightly. Then he probed further, "The true Sun God, right?"

The black-robed figures' steps faltered for an instant. They seemed to misinterpret Duncan's unusual reaction. One whispered to his companion, "Wait, could he be a follower of Our Lord too?"

"Impossible. He's clearly an escaped sacrifice..." another whispered back, then glanced at Duncan, "You're sharp, but don't think that'll spare you from the sacrifice. Our Lord has decreed your fate. You'd best accept it gladly."

Duncan made no reply. He knew his overly calm demeanor had led these suspected cultists to the wrong conclusion—they probably thought he was pretending to be composed and posing as a "believer" to survive. But only Duncan knew the truth.

This temporarily occupied body could barely move properly; his facial muscles were as stiff as necrotic tissue... which naturally left him with nothing but a calm, blank expression!

But he didn't care what these cultists thought. He just wanted to gather as much intel as possible in this "one-time exploration." So he casually asked, "You think the 'sun' in the sky right now is a false sun? You think it'll fall eventually?"

"The false sun will surely fall!" This was clearly a topic that riled up these cultists. Duncan got the eager, fanatical response he wanted from one of them, "Even the dogs of the Holy See have to admit in the General History that the sun in the sky is a twisted, monstrous thing that appeared after the Great Annihilation! What truly brings life and order to the world is the Sun God, but Our Lord's authority was usurped by that vile counterfeit... That vile counterfeit will one day crash down from the sky!"

Then Duncan heard the cultists around him chime in: "The false sun will fall!" "The true Sun God will soon awaken!" "The excess seawater will be driven back to the void by the Sun God's might, and the land will return to an era of abundance and stability!"

Listening to these cultists getting worked up, Duncan's mind raced. He knew such fanatical cultists couldn't be reasoned with; what they believed was mostly twisted, distorted information. But some of the intel they revealed was still worth noting—

The "sun" hanging in the sky was a counterfeit...

The true sun had its authority usurped...

They believed the true sun was a fallen deity, and that this deity would "awaken from blood and fire"...

They also mentioned "excess seawater" and "an era of abundance and stability"... What did those terms mean?

Duncan's thoughts churned, but the cultists soon calmed down. They remembered their task—escorting an escaped "sacrifice." Those nearest Duncan fell silent, while the two at the back muttered to each other:

"Don't you think this 'sacrifice' is a bit off?"

"He seems wrong... I've got a bad feeling."

"Maybe he was in the lightless underground too long while escaping, and something got into his mind..."

"Perfect. Our Lord's power will purify him."

Duncan caught their words, especially "lightless underground." But just as he tried to glean more from their talk, the lead black-robed figure stopped.

"We're here."

The cultist's voice was low and cold.

Duncan felt a pang of regret, but then his attention was drawn to the sight before him.

Ahead, at the end of the path, was a junction of several sewer channels. In this space, as wide as a small underground hall, lay a gathering of black-robed cultists.