Chapter 35: Herbert in the Cultivators' Eyes (Please add to your reading list!)

Under the direction of Father Kaplan, the farce came quickly and ended just as quickly.

In barely more than ten minutes, the two cultivators who had "maliciously reported" Herbert were led away by dedicated personnel to the Confession Pool.

There, they would be monitored for a full twelve hours until they had recounted every one of their sins.

That alone was enough to break them, let alone the interrogation that followed — that was the real punishment.

Not only physical torment, but spiritual devastation… Oh, the Tribunal's disciplinary sisters prefer to call this little act a "baptism."

When the farce ended, Herbert remained in the great hall.

He kept his back ramrod straight, calmly meeting the varied gazes of the cultivators around him.

Inside, Herbert was not as calm as his face suggested.

This time, he had successfully cleared himself of suspicion and left a rather deep impression on everyone else.

But what about next time?

Could he still get away so luckily by running his mouth?

Herbert sighed silently in his heart:

"Strength, it's all about strength…"

If his strength were sufficient, the other side would never have dared to make a move against him so easily — he needed to think more carefully.

If his strength were sufficient, he wouldn't have come running to the Tribunal seeking shelter on his own.

"I have to find a way to raise my strength, at least enough to protect myself."

Strengthening himself was urgent; Herbert had to find a way to tackle the third zone, the Lightless Prison, and needed a chance to have a proper talk with the Dark Elf Archmage.

Friend, if you want to shut yourself in, fine; if you don't want to see me, then don't.

But don't you dare block me from entering the next zone!

Let! Me! Through!

The reason Herbert was so eager to enter the fourth zone of the Alien Prison was that it contained the exact terrain he needed most right now.

The fourth zone — the Lava Hell.

In that blazing, scorching region, he ought to be able to use the Dragon King's inheritance to rapidly toughen his physical body.

"How on earth do I drag her out of her hole? A food-bait trap probably won't work — who knows what Dark Elves even like to eat…"

Herbert pondered, instinctively trying to rub his chin, but as his left hand rose it tugged at the muscles of his palm, tearing open the wound that had not yet fully scabbed over.

Hiss.

His brow lifted slightly as he forcibly suppressed the urge to click his tongue.

Just then, a drop of fresh blood, gleaming with a crystalline sheen, slid from his dangling palm and dropped to the floor.

Hiss—

After that drop of blood hit the ground, it actually caused a change in the originally pitch-black floor of the great hall.

With that drop of blood as the center, a halo of light one meter in diameter appeared, illuminating the floor's vivid, gorgeously intricate patterns.

!!!

"Hm? Did he use holy water?"

"What?"

The cultivators belonging to the Tribunal were no strangers to this change in the floor — when they used holy water to cleanse the place during the monthly rites, the same thing would happen.

Only under the illumination of holy light's power would the great hall reveal its true appearance.

"That is… holy blood?"

Kaplan noticed this too. Knowing more than the others, her brow shifted slightly as she asked Herbert: "Herbert, did you deliberately produce holy blood today?"

"Yes."

Herbert nodded calmly, picking up a rag to bandage his palm once more: "I was attacked by a prisoner in the Alien Prison and was forced to use holy blood to defend myself."

He spoke with extraordinary calm, recounting the heart-pounding experience in the most matter-of-fact tone — though in truth it hadn't been all that difficult or dangerous.

Just a useless vampire who had been starving so long she was practically a dried corpse, that's all.

Not worth mentioning!

Herbert was unimpressed, but the others didn't know the real situation!

In an instant, everyone cast reverent gazes upon Herbert.

In the eyes of the monastery's other inhabitants, any prisoner locked up in the Alien Prison was a terrifyingly powerful, extremely dangerous being.

And Herbert, though he had paid a price, had actually managed to escape from their clutches!

That was truly an inconceivable thing.

Kaplan, for her part, knew a bit more about the situation inside — she knew that as long as the Warden didn't act recklessly, generally one wouldn't suffer harm beyond spiritual damage.

She furrowed her brow and asked, somewhat puzzled: "Why didn't you take holy water from the Sanctum?"

Holy water could serve as a source of income for the Church of the Gods out in the world, sold to all manner of adventurers, but within the monastery it was the most worthless thing of all.

Not only could anyone freely take as much as they wanted, but some rites even used holy water as the cleansing liquid — one could say it was barely any more precious than ordinary water.

"Was I actually allowed to use it?"

Herbert chuckled at this, shrugged his shoulders, and said casually as if it didn't matter: "No one ever told me about this before. I didn't know whether I had the right to take any."

"…"

The cultivators fell silent once more. This time, their gazes at Herbert held an added measure of sympathy and admiration.

No one was a fool; they all understood the meaning behind Herbert's words — he had been singled out.

If he couldn't even use holy water, there was no need to mention anything else.

Combined with the earlier scene, Herbert's image in the cultivators' eyes gradually came into focus.

He was like a proud swan.

Even when suspected, he would not deign to explain in person, only striking back passively when forced to.

Bullied and ostracized, he would not bow his head; he would rather hurt himself, break his own wings, and use his own fresh blood to make Holy Blood than take the initiative to "steal."

"..."

Kaplan's perpetually calm expression finally shifted, a hint of anger surfacing. She turned her head to look at a nun who had lowered her head, and immediately understood the reason.

Among the cultivators, some harbored malice toward Herbert because of his past identity.

Although no one came out in the open, a portion of them were indeed quietly ostracizing Herbert.

Kaplan stared intently at that nun until her shoulders began to tremble slightly, then withdrew her gaze.

She did not lose her temper on the spot, but stepped down from the high platform, came to Herbert's side, and gently took his hand in hers.

A warm light flared, and Herbert felt an unbearable itch in his palm, as if flesh and blood were growing rapidly.

After a few breaths, when Kaplan unwrapped the blood-stained cloth he had carelessly wound around it, the wound had indeed healed completely.

The Penitent Nun released Herbert, gently patted his shoulder, and said slowly: "... In the future, you may go to the Sanctum to take any resources you need."

"Thank you, Father."

A moment later, Herbert left the Tribunal together with the other cultivators.

Earlier, he had secretly told Kaplan about Grass Carp Bro's matter, but the other party had shown no reaction.

Kaplan only said that the Inquisitor already knew of the matter, told him not to worry, and not to go around telling other people.

Kaplan's overly calm reaction left Herbert feeling rather uneasy.

He didn't know whether the higher-ups were fishing or doing something else, and he didn't want to know.

Herbert only worried about his delicate flesh, not wanting a future black history of "keeping the hook for sale."

Thus, after much deliberation, Herbert decided to save himself.

That night, for his own safety, Herbert did not obediently return to his room to stay.

Instead... he went to another place.

"What are you doing?"

"Hm? Can't you tell?"

Herbert, wearing a nightgown, turned his head and grinned at Valentina, whose expression was strange: "I came here to sleep with you!"

"... Huh?"

Valentina:???

Thanks to boss poorsen for the 10,000-tip reward!

Thanks to Phantom Pu and Ztyzyy for their tips!

I wrote a few hundred extra characters, but I won't force a break — if it's long, it's long.

Begging for chase-reads — I got on the new book rankings yesterday, but this afternoon I dropped off again, sob sob.

It's so hard for me—

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(End of this chapter)