In the town square, the Celestial Cult once again showed the bearing of a respectable institution.
At Fu Qian's reminder, Amira and the others looked toward the little chapel, their expressions grim.
They clearly felt guilty about disturbing someone's lie-in.
But they couldn't disobey orders, and soon the three exchanged glances.
"Let's go take a look."
Simon, the calmest of them all, announced their final decision. Of course, as he spoke, he kept his eyes on Fu Qian.
Clearly, the man hadn't forgotten the purpose of his visit just because of the strange scene before them. He still carried himself like a seasoned escort.
"All right. That sound even seems a little familiar to me."
Fu Qian didn't mind in the slightest and readily agreed.
As they crossed the square, he even greeted an old woman sitting on a bench and feeding pigeons—the only human in sight—though she had her head bowed.
Unfortunately, she seemed rather antisocial. Without looking up, she simply held out her left hand to show Fu Qian a handful of peas, as if asking whether he wanted some.
Having already eaten breakfast, Fu Qian politely declined, then looked to his three companions for their answer.
They all declined, without a doubt. Amira's expression was already beyond description.
They really were used to fine food and had become picky about breakfast.
Fu Qian shook his head regretfully, then placed a hand on the little chapel's intricately carved door and gave it a gentle push.
It wasn't locked, but it wouldn't open.
Simon and the others had clearly been watching him the whole time, and naturally noticed.
So when Fu Qian raised his hand to knock, Amira grabbed his arm.
Beside her, Simon had already raised his greatsword again.
Lead-colored flames rose. As Amira guided Fu Qian aside,