Chapter 95: Ebert

Wu Chang looked surprised, too startled to appreciate the nurse's fitted uniform, and hurriedly said:

"Professor Ebert is dying? Quick, take me there."

This old bastard, finally about to kick the bucket—damn resilient.

If he held on two more days, he'd have cleared his dungeon instance.

The town hospital was built near the church; dying townsfolk were usually rushed straight to the church for last rites.

Briarford was small, its population limited; every townsman nearing death was typically attended by the bishop himself for their final prayer.

But this time, it was impossible.

As the human key to the Church of Envyfire, the moment Wu Chang cleared the Inner World, the bishop was corrupted by Envyfire and turned to ash.

Now, not only could no one perform last rites, but even entering the cathedral was forbidden.

The bishop now lay inside the cathedral, receiving mourning and blessings, while other townsfolk preparing to depart waited in line outside.

Of course, if you couldn't wait, you could go ahead—surely you'd catch up to the bishop and still get your last rite.

With the bishop's death, the entire town had grown lifeless.

The townsfolk had felt peace and calm yesterday after the bishop's prayer; this morning, upon waking, their negative emotions returned tenfold.

Before the cathedral square, townsfolk knelt in droves, candles surrounding them as they shouted prayers toward the cathedral.

But no matter how loud their prayers, they couldn't mask the grief and terror on their faces.

Linghu, along with the other nuns, tended to the townsfolk; seeing Wu Chang pass by, she ran up to him.

Wu Chang waved for the nurse to leave, then asked Linghu: "How's the church holding up?"

Linghu shook her head; dark circles had reappeared under her eyes—clearly, she hadn't slept well last night.

"It's terrible. The bishop was everyone's spiritual leader; his death is like the sky collapsing over the cathedral. Negative emotions are overwhelming—even the usually composed senior nuns went mad yesterday, smashing everything in their rooms."

Here, Linghu's expression grew tense; she whispered: "I can feel something being released inside the cathedral since the bishop's death—it's starting to affect everyone."

"I'm scared…"

Wu Chang slipped a key into Linghu's hand and comforted her: "Chaos is temporary. Trust Jianxing—he'll find a way. Since the cathedral isn't safe anymore, go stay at the post office for two days. Once things stabilize, decide whether to return."

Just as townsfolk felt no fear after the bishop's prayer, no matter the hardship.

Now, hearing Wu Chang's voice, their souls inexplicably calmed.

Her cheeks flushed slightly; she hesitated: "Is it appropriate for me to go to the post office? Won't I be a burden to you?"

She'd been to the town's post office—the rest room was a cramped single room; wouldn't two people together be awkward? Wu Chang smiled: "No problem. The town council is swamped these two days—I won't be back. Don't worry about me disturbing you."

Linghu: "Ah? No…."

Wu Chang saw the young nurse waving frantically at him; he cut Linghu off mid-sentence: "Lock your door when you're alone. I've got to head to the hospital—talk later."

The nurse waiting afar had been calm until a colleague ran up and whispered something—then she grew frantic.

Seeing him approach, she hurriedly said: "Councilor Xiao En, please hurry—Professor Ebert has slipped into another coma. He's barely holding on."

Wu Chang followed the nurse to Ebert's ward; as he drew near, he frowned and yanked the nurse back.

"Miss, you've brought me to the wrong room—who is this?"

The nurse confirmed: "He's Professor Ebert. The plague has reduced him to this."

Wu Chang looked again at the bedridden Ebert—this time more carefully—and finally recognized a trace of the man he knew.

The plague had tormented the old professor severely; he remembered the first time he met Ebert—thin but vigorous, eyes clear and bright, brimming with scholarly wisdom.

Hair and clothes neat, meticulously matched—a true gentleman. Yet in just three days, Professor Ebert had become a walking skeleton.

Violent diarrhea had left him severely dehydrated; his once-plump lips were dry, pale, cracked.

Constant fever had drained his spirit; his hair was greasy and matted, his eyes sunken, his complexion dull.

The once-wise eyes now glowed with murky gray, filled only with thick death.

In his near-death coma, he still couldn't escape his nightmares, muttering incoherently.

Wu Chang sighed, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes, and said to the nurse: "The plague is truly hateful—what a brilliant scholar, reduced to this."

The nurse comforted: "Councilor Xiao En, please accept your grief. Birth, aging, sickness, death—these are natural. Professor Ebert is elderly; at his age, a single fall can cause sudden bodily collapse."

Wu Chang said mournfully: "I need some comfort."

The nurse's cheeks flushed; she glanced around, saw no one watching, then stepped forward and hugged Wu Chang.

Wu Chang hugged her tightly, only releasing her after her third struggle, reluctantly letting go.

"Councilor Xiao En, we're still in the ward," the nurse whispered after breaking free, then hurriedly fled the room, blushing.

Wu Chang waved cheerfully at the nurse glancing back; she blushed again and ran farther away.

Young girls are better—so easily shy over small things. If it were Mo Leina, she'd drag me to the next room and have a deep conversation right then.

He lowered his waving hand, exhaled a long breath, and looked at Ebert on the bed.

Now, no one would disturb them for a while.

He used his Huosui ability to suppress the effects of "Plague-Bringer" and "Curse-Inflictor" into dormancy within Ebert.

Without "Plague-Bringer" and "Curse-Inflictor," Ebert, through sheer willpower, woke from his coma within minutes.

Ebert opened his eyes and saw Wu Chang; realizing he'd escaped the nightmare, he grew ecstatic—as if seeing a family member.

Clearly, this old bastard had been torturing his conscience in his dreams.

"Professor Ebert, how did you end up like this?" Wu Chang leaned close, eyes wide with disbelief.

Ebert coughed twice; he didn't bother explaining, grabbed Wu Chang's sleeve, and gasped: "Are you sent by the church?"

Wu Chang paused, then admitted: "Archbishop Mandazhu sent me to Briarford to find you—he wants you to help me investigate something."

Ebert's grip on Wu Chang's sleeve tightened. "I'll help you—but you must promise me one condition."

"Say it."

"Promise me you'll enter the Earl's Manor and destroy my body—destroy the ritual Earl Jemaine has prepared!" Ebert gasped.

Wu Chang curled his lip. "You just said 'I,' didn't you?"

"You old bastard, I knew you weren't up to anything good inside the instance."

"Well, well. So not only did you betray the Church, you even became Count Jermaine's technical consultant, and the formations inside the Count's manor were all prepared by you."

Wu Chang pretended he hadn't caught Eberhardt's slip of the tongue, and said with a troubled look: "I went to explore the Count's manor. It's surrounded by a layer of mysterious power, and no matter what I tried, I couldn't get in. And even if I could get in, I wouldn't know how to disrupt the ritual."

Eberhardt: "Bring me my clothes."

Wu Chang fetched Eberhardt's clothes from nearby. Eberhardt removed a few inconspicuous ornaments from the clothes, slotted them together, and pieced them into a key.

"Take it, go to the lighthouse by the sea, the topmost floor of the lighthouse — everything you need is there. Once you've disrupted the ritual and come back, I'll tell you the answer Germain wants."

(End of chapter)