Chapter 22

"I really want to run away~ but I can't escape~"

"Sigh! Why is this disgusting thing still chasing me…?"

To be honest, Herbert was now somewhat speechless.

He had deliberately come to this secluded corner to draw water, just to avoid running into that scene again in the kitchen.

Friend, could you please show a little discretion?

I'm a kind-hearted person; I can't bear to see poor grass carp being subjected to such abuse.

Besides… seeing the aftermath is one thing—I can just be speechless for a while.

But if I'd walked in on it firsthand, wouldn't everyone be terribly awkward?

"Sigh, bottom-tier guy! Sigh, Taodao hero…"

Herbert cast one final glance at the grass carp's lifeless, wide-open fish eyes, then silently walked to the other side, tossed the bucket into the well, and began drawing water.

"Don't look at me—grudges have their source, debts have their owner—I saw nothing, I saw nothing…"

Although he had stumbled upon this incident twice already, Herbert still had no intention of reporting it to anyone.

First, there's the matter of understanding and respecting others' preferences—every unusual hobby deserves tolerance.

After all, this world holds every kind of love imaginable.

Even giant puffball mushrooms have fans, even attack helicopters have devotees, even plastic bags have people who…

It's just a damn grass carp!

It's still a living being.

It's better than most.

Compared to others, his condition is far milder.

Second… Herbert himself wasn't clean either.

Don't talk about your brother's faults when you've got your own. We're all the same.

Not to mention his identity as a contract holder of an evil god—just what he was about to do next was already deeply odd.

From others' perspectives, Herbert's actions were probably no nobler than the grass carp guy's.

Washing a woman's hair, then retreating to his room to savor it in bliss…

Is that the kind of thing a good person does?

Just imagining the scene was already deeply wrong.

To avoid drawing trouble upon himself, Herbert decided it was better to mind his own business and pretend he'd noticed nothing.

Not my problem.

After drawing water, he left at once, making no attempt to find clues on the grass carp, completely ignoring its existence.

He had zero curiosity about the grass carp guy's identity.

Zero!

The Tribunal.

"Your Grace, the Inquisitor-General."

In the icy grand hall, Herbert bowed slightly to the hulking man seated with head bowed, his expression calm.

The bald giant wore a bizarre spiked crown that obscured his eyes, leaving only his impassive lower face visible.

Thick, dark-red thorns coiled around his body, their sharp points piercing through his clothing and sinking deep into his skin, continuously draining nourishment and magic from his flesh—deeply unsettling to behold.

Though he looked nothing like a good man, he was one of the high-ranking officials of the Mist Monastery.

Within the Mist Monastery, besides the elusive Grand Abbot, there were three publicly known high officials.

They were the 【Inquisitor-General】, who oversaw all Tribunal affairs; the 【Keeper】, who guarded all archives and treasures; and the 【Knight-Commander】, who commanded all Holy Knights and Wu Seng among the ascetic monks.

The man before him now was the Inquisitor-General, known as the Thorned Bishop, responsible for all Tribunal matters.

The Tribunal's function was much like that of a religious inquisition in his past life—responsible for imprisoning, interrogating, and punishing heretics and the fallen.

In a sense, the Inquisitor-General was Herbert's direct superior as the prison warden.

And also the very person Herbert, a double agent destined to become an inverted trinity, most dreaded approaching.

Any one of his secrets—blasphemy, broken vows, corruption—would be judged personally by this man.

Yet here Herbert was, voluntarily appearing before him.

The Thorned Bishop slowly opened his eyes, his irises thick with crimson veins, staring coldly at the white-haired boy before him, head bowed in reverence.

After a moment, he spoke slowly: "... You, Herbert Albert."

"I remember you. You should be in the dungeons, reforming heretics. Why are you here?"

"What brings you to me?"

The Thorned Bishop's voice was deep and resonant, yet surprisingly unlike his monstrous appearance—it did not feel cold at all, but warm, like spring breeze.

If Herbert had to describe it, it was the kind of rich, baritone voice that would send many voice addicts into raptures.

And he was not quiet—he was unexpectedly talkative.

Whether from long suppression or not, Herbert had barely spoken a word before the man was already rambling to himself for ages.

Herbert raised his head and spoke softly to the Thorned Bishop: "Your Grace, I have something to report directly to the Grand Abbot."

"Report directly to the Grand Abbot?"

The Thorned Bishop paused, then his expression shifted slightly, his brow furrowing. "What could possibly require reporting to the Grand Abbot himself? Can't you tell me?"

Though the Bishop didn't voice it outright, Herbert could read the unspoken meaning in his gaze—what, do you look down on me?

"Yes. This matter is of grave importance. Only the Grand Abbot can handle it."

Seeing the Bishop about to grow displeased, Herbert did not delay: "This is what happened: yesterday, during my patrol, I discovered anomalies in the third zone of the alien prison."

"The Realm of No Light has become an impassable space—I cannot locate the prisoner sealed within, nor can I enter the fourth zone."

Soon, Herbert gave a detailed account of his discovery and his attempts, including even his speculations, holding nothing back.

Once he had finished, Herbert looked at Bishop Thorn with sincere eyes and asked earnestly, "Your Excellency the Inquisitor, may I leave this matter in your hands?"

"..."

Bishop Thorn fell silent, his gaze drifting slightly as he looked elsewhere.

At that moment Herbert also tightened his expression, not daring to reveal the slightest hint.

You think I look down on you?

Don't be ridiculous.

Just tell me — can you handle it or not?

"Ahem… I understand the situation."

After quite a while, Bishop Thorn nodded without changing his expression and said calmly, "This matter is not a big deal, there's no rush to deal with it. I will inform His Excellency the Archbishop later."

Not a big deal? No rush?

Herbert picked up on some unspoken meaning, but sensibly did not expose it, and said gratefully, "Understood. I apologize for troubling you with this matter."

Bishop Thorn waved his hand, his face perfectly composed, and said, "Mm, it's nothing. It's what I should do."

"Very well, then I'll take my leave."

Just as Herbert had finished his report and was preparing to take his leave, Bishop Thorn suddenly said in a low voice, "Wait a moment."

"... Your Excellency?"

Bishop Thorn's crimson eyes fixed intently on him as he asked slowly:

"You…"

"Have you encountered any blasphemous incidents recently?"

!!?

(End of Chapter)