Chapter 92: What? White Silk Feet?

“White silk feet? What white silk feet?” Zhou Yun blinked, unable to help asking.

“The Cult of the Dead,” Augustus Flax’s voice clearly strained: “a sect that worships death and venerates the Emperor as the God of Death.”

Hearing Augustus Flax’s words, Zhou Yun paused slightly, then remembered what the Cult of the Dead was.

It was a sect that worshipped death, but most of its followers did not revere the Blood God or the Cifu , but the Emperor.

The logic of most Cult of the Dead adherents was simple:

The Emperor exists between life and death; he saved humanity through a sacrifice akin to death, and the souls of the departed return to the Golden Throne.

Thus, the Emperor is clearly the God of Death—his ruined, corpse-like body is undeniable proof.

Based on this “fact,” Cult of the Dead followers began interpreting the doctrines of the Imperial Cult in their own way,

asserting that the foundation of the Empire is death and martyrdom: more death means greater holiness, and greater adherence to the Emperor’s will ensures the Empire’s enduring survival.

Some among them were indeed corrupted by the Chaos Powers of the Highest Heavens,

but most Cult of the Dead members maintained a peculiar loyalty to the Emperor, and the Imperial Cult and the Empire’s authorities often tolerated them, using them as their bloodied gloves.

“There’s a Cult of the Dead in Asford?” Zhou Yun asked, taken aback.

Such talent, such talent.

“In the Thirteenth Sublevel District—that’s their parish, their altar.”

“They call themselves the Daughters of the Dead, a minor faction within the Cult of the Dead, composed entirely of women.”

Augustus Flax’s voice seemed tinged with fear:

“These extreme cultists often adopt young girls, raising them from childhood to become top-tier assassins.”

“With nothing but crude leather bodysuits and two sharp stilettos, they dare infiltrate the chambers of Xiejiaotu leaders and take their lives.”

“To be honest, the Sublevel occasionally breeds troublesome cultists—I usually hire them to clean them up.”

The Cult of the Dead.

Zhou Yun recalled what he had seen in the Undercity: the scenes of death, the bloodstained church, the masked female priests.

And the secret phrase Letna had told him to remember: “Only sacrifice death, only worship the God of Death.”

Could it be… the Emperor’s promised reward… lies within the Cult of the Dead?

Zhou Yun blinked with interest, looking at the data pad in his hand and said:

“Sounds interesting.”

“I’ll arrange an introduction, and I’ll cover the cost of hiring them.”

Augustus Flax said, staring at his data pad,

and only when he heard Zhou Yun agree to the proposal did he exhale slightly.

Then he ended the call with Zhou Yun.

Immediately after, Augustus Flax trembled uncontrollably with fear,

for he had only just described the Cult of the Dead as insane,

but that man Zhou Yun was even more insane than the Cult of the Dead.

Even the Cult of the Dead rarely targets the Viceroy of a planet,

yet this man Zhou Yun not only dared to, he had the audacity to tell Augustus Flax outright that he would assassinate him.

Augustus Flax reviewed the conversation in dread,

he could feel—the man wasn’t fearless; he believed he could never die.

That irrational confidence, as if no power in the mortal world—or even in the Sea of Souls—could take his life,

what a madman, when everyone must die.

Thinking of this, Augustus Flax’s lips curled into a forced, bitter smile,

what would happen if the Cult of the Dead’s assassins, who bring death, faced off against this heretic who claims he cannot die?

He tapped his data pad, opening another call.

“Who do you wish to bring death to?”

A cold, dull female voice came from the other end:

“Who do you wish to carry death?”

Augustus Flax shuddered at the chilling voice, but he did not reveal his fear; instead, he spoke in a low, dry tone:

“I want your Chief Assassin.”

According to Augustus Flax’s intelligence, the Daughters of the Dead numbered only twelve assassins,

yet each was a weapon meticulously forged by the Cult of the Dead since childhood,

trained beyond human limits, injected with strange drugs, and subjected to unique modifications.

Among them, the most exceptional, the one who brought death most effectively, was their Chief Assassin.

Augustus Flax had hired her only once,

and in a single night, she destroyed a cult that worshipped the Blood God and severed its leader’s head.

“Dixie devoutly awaits the arrival of the Death-Chosen; she cannot leave our church.”

“The Death-Chosen?” Augustus Flax raised his voice.

“Yes!” The cold, dull voice grew fervent and reverent: “The Death-Chosen has Jianglin . The Death-Chosen has come.”

“A few days ago, through a sacrifice and offering of death, in the gloom of death, we received revelation.”

“It was a magnificent blue figure, chosen by the Emperor, stained with death.”

“He is our master, the Daughters of the Dead—we are his humble servants.”

“Chief Assassin Dixie, by the Emperor’s command, waits in the church for the Death-Chosen’s arrival.”

The Chief Assassin cannot leave the church.

Augustus Flax had no interest in the cultists’ fanatical worship,

!.read

He only knew the Chief Assassin could not leave the church.

The other eleven assassins—truthfully, Augustus Flax believed they could never stand against Zhou Yun.

Fortunately, he could use the pretext of introduction to lure Zhou Yun and the illegal psyker to the Thirteenth District—though he wasn’t sure it would succeed.

“I’ll find a way to make the target go to the Thirteenth District, enter your church.”

“Then, could the Chief Assassin personally assassinate both targets?”

Augustus Flax asked.

“Names of the targets.” A colder voice suddenly spoke.

Merely hearing that voice made Augustus Flax envision surging, boiling pools of blood and mountains of gray corpses,

he nearly vomited—if not for his training as Viceroy, he would have screamed.

Augustus Flax knew: this voice belonged to the Chief Assassin of the Daughters of the Dead.

“Zhou Yun and Leina,” Augustus Flax whispered. “They are…”

“They will receive the visit of death,” the cold voice said. “Our church never turns away death.”

“Especially now that the great Death-Chosen is about to Jianglin . Praise the glorious blue figure.”

Augustus Flax sensed the extreme fanaticism in her words.

After ending the call with the Daughters of the Dead, Augustus Flax reconnected with Zhou Yun.

“I’ve made the introduction, but they require you and the illegal psyker to visit their church for a meeting.”

Augustus Flax was tense—Zhou Yun might refuse,

then it would all depend on Augustus’s eloquence.

From the other end came a light laugh, as if mocking Augustus Flax.

“Sure. I was planning to pay them a visit anyway.”

Zhou Yun replied cheerfully.

(End of Chapter)