One Key to Acting

Lu Ze had never heard of this so-called "Count of Andes," let alone why the other party wanted to cause him trouble.

Why did the Count of Andes send you here?

He pressed on with that question.

Tyre, the Werewolf, opened his mouth, and a clear look of terror suddenly appeared on his blurred face. Then, his previously translucent soul suddenly turned crimson. The light was dazzling and vivid, as if the light of Crimson Moon was blooming from his body!

Spirituality intuition alerted Luther to the danger, and he released his grip, tossing the wisp of soul away.

"Bang!"

Before the Werewolf Tyre could even utter a scream, his soul exploded in mid-air. Crimson specks of light scattered in the air, the Star, yet possessing a certain vitality, subtly showing a tendency to attach themselves to Luther.

Luther decisively created distance, watching as all the lights went out.

Were they silenced?

It doesn't seem like that; rather, it seems like some force behind him is trying to Corrosion me through my soul.

Luther shook his head.

Is it an evil god worshipped by the Rose School of Thought?

I don't know for now.

The simultaneous arising of his own thoughts and those of his clone caused him a moment of dizziness. He then remembered that the prayer Ritual was still in progress, so he quickly ended Ritual and saw Mr. Fool off.

Leaving aside Klein's Gray Fog at not seeing what happened next, Luther blew out his candle and noticed that the Werewolf's Beyonder Characteristic had emerged. It was a dark green fang that had fallen out of his mouth.

Sequence 7, the Beyonder Characteristic of Werewolf.

Luther picked up the Characteristic and waved his hand again, releasing Cons, who was trapped in the shadows.

"Ah!"

Cons emerged from the darkness and saw the outside world again, clearly very excited. Just moments ago, Luther had tied him up without a word, and he had almost thought he was going to die. His wounds had bled quite a bit, and he was extremely listless.

Luther walked up to him, placed his hand on his wound, and used Flesh and Blood Magic.

"Brush!"

Organs, tissues, muscles, skin. Cons felt the changes in his body; the gruesome wounds inflicted by the Werewolf were actually healing completely.

He saved me?

Cons simply found it unbelievable.

"I'll let you go this time, since you stopped that Werewolf."

Luther said calmly.

He had met this guy once before and investigated him using "Psychological Invisibility" to confirm that although he was from MI9, he was not involved in those matters. He was just a greenhorn eager to make a name for himself.

". Thank you so much."

Before Cons could finish expressing his gratitude, Luther took out a glass bottle from his pocket. He opened the bottle, and the blood that had flowed onto the ground automatically flowed into the bottle under the influence of an invisible force, filling it to the brim.

"I'm very good at Curse."

He calmly explained to Cons, "I suggest you don't go around telling anyone about what happened today."

"I understand."

Cons's face paled slightly, and he nodded repeatedly. "I won't tell."

Just as he made that promise, M's phantom appeared behind him. A flash of golden eyes left a mark on his heart. The double insurance of the Curse threat and Psychological Suggestion ensured that he would not reveal the information.

"I understand."

Luze glanced at the phantom of M, then asked, "Do you know who the Count of Andes is?"

"I've only heard of that name."

Cons answered honestly, "He's also part of the Backlund aristocratic social circle; I've seen him a few times at balls."

Do you know where he lives?

Luther continued to ask questions.

Cons shook his head decisively, which didn't sound like a lie; it seemed more like he genuinely didn't know. And rightly so, how familiar could one be with someone they'd only met a few times?

"Okay, you can go now."

Luther Zedao.

Cons felt as if he had been granted a pardon. He quickly stood up, bowed to Luther, and left with unsteady steps.

After what happened today, he suddenly realized that a stable life might not be so bad after all. Perhaps in a few days he would have a new idea. But at least for now, this idea came from the bottom of his heart.

Now, Cons just wants to leave this place as soon as possible, go home, and see his family.

Luther didn't care about Cons's change of heart. He strolled over to the dead Old Jack, knelt down, and reached out to use Flesh and Blood Magic to treat the Old Jack's horrific wounds. All of the Old Jack's relatives were dead, and only he could take on the responsibility of Shepherd and take care of the aftermath of his Lamb.

Mysterious forces exist in this world, and if the bodies of the dead are not properly appeased, they can easily become Wraith Requiem. The official authorities of Loen have made special arrangements to ensure that even the poor can be buried in public cemeteries.

Luther faced the corpse, sensing the changes in the "Shepherd's Potion" within his body.

Some of the Potion has been digested.

When he merged with the Lamb's remnant soul, when he bore the Lamb's pain, when he killed the Werewolf who had harmed the Lamb, he clearly felt the Potion being digested.

Luther roughly guessed the reason for the Potion's digestion.

Because he faithfully Acting the role of "Shepherd".

--Protect the Flock and provide shelter for the Lamb. If the protection fails and the Lamb die, at least avenge Lamb. Ironically, the Lamb's deaths actually advance his Acting.

So even if it's just for the sake of playing a role, he still has to go find that Count of Andes and the Rose School to demand an explanation.

Backlund, Empress Borough, in a villa.

The spacious room reeked of blood, its once luxurious interior now a mess. Oil paintings in gold Picture Frame were splattered with blood. Several fresh heads sat on the ornate walnut table, a stark contrast to the vases beside them. Countless pieces of flesh littered the carpet, and shredded intestines were pasted onto the velvet curtains.

One can imagine that a bloody and frenzied feast took place here just as the Crimson Moon descended.

"I wonder if that guy Tyre will mess things up."

A man licked the blood off his fingers and muttered something.

His skin was deathly pale, with a few faint dark spots, making him look like a real corpse. His eyes overflowed with madness and malice, radiating endless desire.

"It doesn't matter; he'll instinctively create chaos under the moonlight."

On the other side of the room, the interior decorations were not stained with blood and appeared much cleaner. A middle-aged man in his forties, dressed in a black tuxedo, sat in a chair and spoke expressionlessly.

At his feet lay four or five men and women dressed as servants. Their eyes were vacant, their faces stiff, and although they were still breathing faintly, they looked like soulless shells.

The other two members of the Rose School of Thought had just enjoyed an Indulgence feast under the Crimson Moon.

They were entertained by the owner of the villa, Count Andes.