Chapter 56: Intuition

Aurora kept thinking and felt something was wrong:

Facing the powerful Shepherd Pierre Berri, how could the parish priest Guillaume Béné, who currently had no supernatural abilities at all, suppress him?

If the parish priest was truly the one favored more by that hidden entity, to the point that the entire small group regarded him as their leader, he should have already received the blessing and ceased to be an ordinary person!

And if he Chichi did not accept the blessing, he would inevitably be ostracized.

Under such circumstances, original status, power, tactics, and cunning could not outweigh one’s own strength and proximity to the divine.

With no time to think further, Aurora could only consider two explanations:

One: within the small group, Guillaume Béné was not the true leader; he merely used his special status to provide a venue for conspiracy and conceal anomalies from the “Eternal Sun” Church in Dariji, while the real leader was someone else!

Two: Guillaume Béné was not refusing the blessing—he was waiting for an opportunity to directly acquire even greater power.

And in either case, neither explanation seemed like a good thing.

Aurora stared at the three sheep and asked further:

“Who was the person who attacked you alongside Pierre Berri?”

The three sheep each began writing their answers:

“Niorel Best.”

“A shepherd named Niorel.”

“He is called Niorel.”

Niorel Best—he also gained great power? Aurora knew this man.

He was another shepherd from Cordu Village, often accompanying Pierre Berri in seasonal grazing, but he had not returned early this time.

“Where is Niorel? I haven’t seen him in the village,” Aurora asked.

The three sheep took a few steps away from the spot already covered in words, found fresh, bare earth, and began writing again:

“He is dead.”

“I killed him.”

“We killed him, but we were still caught.”

Killed in retaliation? Aurora nodded thoughtfully:

“Are you all extraordinary beings?”

The three sheep stopped writing in the highland language with their hooves and affirmed with nods.

Aurora hummed, her thoughts racing:

Both Pierre Berri and Niorel Best targeted extraordinary beings—what were they trying to do?

And one of them died…

Either Niorel’s strength was far inferior to Pierre’s, or they gained their power through blessings and still hadn’t mastered it well, inevitably encountering problems during supernatural combat…

Aurora looked again at the three sheep and asked:

“Do you know why Pierre captured you?”

The three sheep began writing again:

“I heard him mention gods and offerings.”

“Probably for blood sacrifice.”

“I suspect he wants to sacrifice us to a demon god.”

Indeed, extraordinary beings had extremely high spiritual essence and possessed unique traits, making them far superior offerings to ordinary people, more pleasing to demon gods… Pierre Berri and Niorel Best used seasonal grazing as cover to capture extraordinary beings from other countries for sacrifice? That would indeed make it harder for local authorities to notice… Aurora gave an almost imperceptible nod.

She asked solemnly:

“Did Pierre mention the true name of that god?”

“Or rather, to whom was the ritual that turned you into sheep addressed?”

The three sheep froze simultaneously, as if plunged into memory.

Then, they all lowered their heads and extended their hooves toward the dirt before them.

For some reason, Aurora suddenly felt the surroundings grow colder and darker, as if the sun high above had been obscured by clouds, and a cool mountain breeze had just passed through.

The three sheep began writing.

Aurora’s spiritual intuition screamed a warning—she shouted immediately:

“Wait!”

The three sheep snapped their heads up, staring at her.

Blood-tears had streamed down their eyes, their fur stained with grimy smears—terrifying to behold.

The next second, the three sheep continued writing.

Aurora spun around and sprinted toward the fence’s edge.

When she had cleared the sheep pen and turned back, the three sheep were bathed in sunlight pouring from above.

Had it not been for the lingering bloodstains on their faces, everything appeared perfectly normal.

Thump, thump… Aurora’s heart still pounded wildly.

She gasped for breath, relieved:

“If I hadn’t occasionally seen things I shouldn’t have before mastering the preliminary sealing technique for my eyes—tested repeatedly, my intuition strong—I wouldn’t have reacted in time…”

She immediately pulled out iron-black powder and flung it into the sheep pen.

The words on the muddy ground vanished as if erased by an invisible hand.

As for the stains on the sheep’s faces, Aurora could not cleanse them with magic and dared not approach—she washed them with water instead.

She feared the three sheep had changed, harboring hidden danger.

…………

Inside the old tavern, Lu Mi leaned his elbow on the bar, sipping pale green absinthe, casually glancing around.

He saw no sign of the mysterious lady, nor of Ryan Cos, Lyra, or Valentine—the three outsiders.

The former, he didn’t know when she might appear—he could only rely on luck; the latter three, he assumed they were strolling through the village, chatting with locals.

“Actually, I had a chance to get married,” Pierre Berri said, pouring himself another pale green drink after finishing his first glass.

“Did you?” Lu Mi mocked. “Who would want a shepherd?”

Pierre sighed:

“Most of the grasslands we move to have owners—either a lord’s estate or a nearby village. To graze, you must pay pasture tax or marry a girl from the village and settle there.”

“That’s a good thing, for a shepherd,” Lu Mi laughed.

Pierre sipped his absinthe and glanced sideways at him:

“Only if the girl finds you attractive—and refuses a dowry.”

“Once, a girl thought I was decent, didn’t mind I was a penniless shepherd, and was willing to marry me—wasn’t she foolish?”

“Yes,” Lu Mi nodded “honestly.”

Pierre held his pale green absinthe, silent for a long while, then said:

“Later, she died.”

“She worked in a factory on the city’s edge, overworked, fell ill. I ran to several churches, begged priests to pray for her, found doctors to treat her—but nothing helped.”

“After that day, I understood one truth.”

“What truth?” Lu Mi sipped his absinthe.

Pierre’s face twisted with hatred:

“Those who grow flesh and shit from below can never save us!”

“What if the ones who don’t shit from below grow flesh instead?” Lu Mi countered.

Pierre chuckled softly:

“Those are saints and angels—but do they even look our way?”

Lu Mi clicked his tongue:

“Then why did you go to the church and beg the parish priest to pray?”

“He not only grows flesh and shits from below—he also likes to sleep with women.”

Pierre turned his head again, scanning Lu Mi:

“You don’t understand—he possesses a certain intellect, capable of saving our souls.”

“Intellect?” Lu Mi didn’t understand the word.

Pierre took another sip of pale green absinthe, as if he hadn’t heard the question.

Lu Mi dared not press further, shifting topic:

“I heard you went to church at one or two in the morning—why go again at three or four?”

Pierre smiled gently:

“In the afternoon, I can chat with others who share that same intellect.”

He did not deny visiting the church after noon.

Lu Mi exhaled in relief—at least for now, no one else retained memory or interfered with the course of “history.”

He suspected Pierre Berri visited the church after noon to communicate with the parish priest beforehand, and that three or four in the afternoon was when the small group met.

After drinking, seeing dinner time had come, Lu Mi parted ways with Pierre Berri and headed home.

As he walked down a quiet side path, Guillaume Béné’s younger brother, Pons Béné, suddenly appeared with several thugs from a side alley, blocking his way.

Pons Béné, a muscular man with black hair and blue eyes, stared at Lu Mi with a cruel grin:

“You were quite the prankster this afternoon—deliberately wasting our time at church.”

“If the parish priest hadn’t been there, I’d have beaten you then!”

"You bastard, come taste your dad Pons's xx."

Lu Mi first stared in stunned disbelief at the fool’s stupidity, then burst into wild delight.

His and Aurora’s judgment was correct: in the second-to-last cycle, before Naroka’s funeral, Pons Bène had not yet gained supernatural power—he could not have sensed danger!

Yet now he dared to ambush a transcendent!

Without hesitation, Lu Mi turned and sprinted away.

Pons and his thugs chased after him.

But as they burst out of the narrow alley between two buildings, they lost sight of their target.

Pons Bène glanced left and right, then ordered his men:

"Search everywhere."

He believed Lu Mi couldn’t have run that fast—he must be hiding nearby.

The thugs immediately scattered to search nearby hiding spots, leaving only Pons Bène standing at the alley’s entrance.

Lu Mi, perched on the second floor of the adjacent building, let out a “Hey!” and leapt straight at Pons.

Crash!

Pons was slammed to the ground by immense force, his qi and blood churning, his vision darkening, temporarily incapacitated.

Had Lu Mi not held back and not struck him directly, he might have broken several bones.

Lu Mi rose smoothly, bent down, seized Pons’s forearms, and smiled at him:

"Come on, let’s get close."

Before Pons could resist, he yanked him forward and drove his knee upward.

Plop! Pons’s eyes bulged as if about to pop, his face twisted with excruciating pain.

Thud!

Lu Mi released him, letting the man collapse onto the ground, curled like a shrimp.

Before the thugs could rush back, he turned and sprinted down the alley, vanishing at its end.

………

In the kitchen, serving as both living room and dining area.

Lu Mi reported his situation to his sister:

"Pierre Béry went to church again this afternoon… Confirmed: Pons Bène still has no supernatural ability."

Aurora nodded slightly and recounted her own ordeal, especially the final, unknown, inexplicable danger.

Lu Mi pondered for a moment and said:

"That mysterious lady said some beings can contaminate you merely by being known."

(End of Chapter)