Chapter 35: I Became the Scapegoat (Please Follow)

“The situation is not looking good.”

Under the scrutiny of everyone’s gazes, Herbert felt a slight tightness in his back and subtly pressed his lips together.

Suspicion, speculation, even outright hostility—he bore all this malice alone.

Regarding this current state of being despised, Herbert could, intellectually, understand their behavior.

As a newcomer who had only been here for a month and had not yet fully integrated into the Mist Monastery, Herbert was seen by others as an outsider.

And not just any outsider—a nobleman of dubious standing, a reclusive fellow who avoided all contact with others.

So, in the wake of this murder, who among them is now the prime suspect?

Hey, it’s me!

So Herbert understood their suspicion and hostility toward him.

But… only intellectually.

Emotionally, Herbert could not accept the injustice of being treated as a suspect.

Because he hadn’t done it.

It wasn’t me—why am I being treated like this?

Why?

Besides, he had been forced here because of a wrongful imprisonment.

Hadn’t he already endured it once? Must it happen again?

Moreover, although Herbert understood the importance of cooperating with the investigation, he could not naively trust these people.

In the kingdom, even though he’d been wrongfully jailed, no one dared use torture on him.

But here?

The Great Memory Restoration Technique isn’t something only from a past life—coercive confessions have always been a universal old tradition.

What kind of good person could possibly exist in the Tribunal?

Would these furious Inquisitors truly care about his noble status?

No.

These bastards would rather kill the innocent than let one guilty slip away—best they offer top-tier restoration therapy afterward—but what the hell good is that!

Restoration to original form doesn’t erase the suffering endured.

The wound may eventually heal, but the scar will never fully vanish.

Even a gentle college student who just wanted to fall in love had been tortured into becoming a White-Haired One, his entire personality shattered.

He was already a White-Haired One—no need to go through this again.

So Herbert absolutely could not show weakness now, much less cooperate actively with the investigation!

Having made up his mind, Herbert’s expression subtly shifted; he let out a soft snort.

“Hmph.”

His face remained calm as still water, his gaze turned disdainful, his lips slightly curled—as he met their stares with neither submission nor defiance.

But Herbert did not ask any questions.

He was waiting.

He knew that at this moment, he need not act first—someone would inevitably crack and strike out at him, the “suspect.”

Sure enough.

He didn’t wait long before an angry voice shattered the silence of the hall.

“What are you all waiting for!?”

A tall, bald nun stepped forward, glaring at Herbert, her right fist clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white: “Why aren’t you arresting this murderer!”

All eyes turned to her. Some clearly showed signs of wanting to act—but halted when they saw the middle-aged Discipline Nun remained still.

The middle-aged Discipline Nun did not immediately obey the bald nun’s incitement to act against Herbert; instead, she asked slowly: “Why do you believe he is the murderer? I don’t think his strength was sufficient to harm Frank.”

Upon hearing this, some cultivators furrowed their brows slightly.

Indeed—given his strength… it hardly seems possible.

“Because he is a Desecrator!”

The bald nun remained steadfast in her conviction, speaking as if she had nothing left to lose: “That day, I saw him leave the kitchen! He must have done something to those grass carp!”

Grass carp?

Herbert blinked, sensing the direction of events had taken a strange turn.

Wait—am I being framed!?

Kid, that really wasn’t me!

Before Herbert could explain, another cultivator’s expression changed upon hearing “grass carp.” After a moment’s hesitation, he raised his hand slowly and said:

“Uh… I also once found traces of desecration beside the Well of Mourning. That day… he passed by there too.”

Both had vaguely noticed traces of desecration but, lacking concrete evidence and fearing they’d alert the real culprit, had kept silent and told no one.

And oddly enough—on each occasion, Herbert had an alibi.

Damned.

He couldn’t explain this away.

Just as Herbert was about to speak, his pupils shrank sharply.

A flood of malice surged toward him—even stronger than before!

As soon as the word “Desecrator” was spoken, the cultivators, whose hostility had begun to subside, instantly tore off their masks and revealed their bloodstained fangs.

Dozens of cold, hostile gazes from every corner of the hall fixed upon him—as if they would rush forth at any moment to judge and purify him.

Just as Herbert had first suspected, the ascetics felt no guilt about eliminating potential heretics.

Even if the target was a boy who had lived and eaten with them for a full month, who knew their names—still, no mercy.

Heretic? Kill on sight.

Eliminating heretics took priority even over hunting the murderer!

“…”

The swelling tide of malice nearly swallowed Herbert whole—step wrong, and he’d plunge into the abyss—but at this moment, he was unexpectedly calm.

Once composed, he almost wanted to laugh.

Herbert made no reaction. He simply looked around silently, meeting the cultivators’ gazes with calm steadiness.

Some met his gaze, but most instinctively looked away.

“Hmph.”

After scanning the room, he turned to the lead Discipline Nun and noticed her expression had remained perfectly calm.

Seeing him look at her, the Discipline Nun asked calmly: “Herbert, do you have anything to explain?”

Herbert nodded, then shook his head.

He did not explain to the Discipline Nun; instead, he turned to the two cultivators who had accused him and asked in an utterly calm tone:

“Sister Ivanca, Brother Jeffs—can I take your words just now… as a challenge to my purity?”

Explain?

Explain what?

【Rule One of Debating: Do not attempt to prove yourself. Do not enter the opponent’s rhythm.】

Before they could answer, Herbert unwrapped the bandages from his left hand and raised his left palm, still streaked with drying blood.

In the next instant.

Brilliant golden light erupted from his back, a radiant Sacred Mark like a holy sword piercing every eye.

That was—the Pure Sacred Mark!?

Only now did some cultivators realize what oath Herbert had sworn.

The Oath of Purity.

If Herbert were a Desecrator, then what was this genuine Sacred Mark?

Surely not an illusion?

Amid the uproar, everyone heard Herbert’s second question.

He said:

“So… are you questioning the deity who granted me this protection?”

【Rule Two of Debating: Only attack, never defend—unbeatable!】

Thank you to Ztyzyy for the reward, thank you, Boss~

…

Today is Xiao Ba, rising early to post—working hard~

Everyone, please support with follow reads, recommendation votes, monthly votes—I’m just one step away from the New Book Total Ranking! Please!

[blank]

[blank]

(End of Chapter)