Qu Xuanqing slipped out soundlessly and landed in a corner where a few odds and ends had been piled.
It wasn't particularly quiet here. She cautiously crept forward and soon heard hushed voices talking around a bend ahead.
Keeping her body close to the wall, she felt its surface. The rock was rough, as if this place had been converted from a natural cave or an abandoned cellar.
Qu Xuanqing remembered the route she'd taken. Once she returned to the surface, she could retrace her steps and figure out where this underground space was.
She concealed herself and quietly peered around the corner.
Two people in loose black cloaks stood at a junction in the passage, their hoods obscuring most of their faces as they spoke in low voices.
Their garb blended into the gloomy surroundings, and an ominous, obscure energy radiated from them—utterly different from that of the True God Church.
Living cultists.
Qu Xuanqing remained composed, focusing all her attention on her hearing.
"...This is downright sinister. His head just fell off out of nowhere." One of the black-robed figures spoke in a slightly hoarse voice, a trace of barely concealed alarm in his tone. "There wasn't a single warning beforehand. He was even going on about bringing his favorite younger son to offer up to the church at the next gathering."
"Hah." The other black-robed figure gave a sharp, scornful laugh. "Give me a break, Barton. His favorite younger son? Everyone knows his family's so poor they can barely put food on the table. The kid's too young for hard labor, so he's nothing but a useless mouth to feed. The man couldn't bear to part with the food. He wanted to hand the kid over to the church in exchange for some benefits. He just dressed