Chapter 365

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Protagonist:

Lin En

Lena

Throughout the entire process there was not a superfluous word, no dispute, and no hesitation.

A woman holding a child, upon being judged infected, screamed and wept as if mad, insisting she was not sick and trying to rush to the right side.

The two Apostles on guard duty beside her instantly stepped forward; one pinned her shoulder, the other raised a hand and fired a precise laser shot into the center of her brow.

The corpse was dragged on the spot to the left-side room, the child not spared either, the movements so practiced they seemed to have been repeated tens of thousands of times.

Dominic watched expressionlessly.

In the Nest Capital's slums, such heavy-handed measures were not considered excessive.

Faced with plague, indecisiveness would only kill more people.

What concerned him more was something else: every person in the queue kept a distance of at least ten meters from one another.

Dedicated Apostles maintained order beside the line — no whispering, no casual touching allowed.

This "maintain spacing" rule was even more standard than what was written in the Imperial Epidemic Prevention Manual.

Moreover, this distance seemed to have some basis; could it be a safe distance this cult had measured out themselves?

Not only that, several crude ventilation devices sat in the wall corners, whirring as they sucked air outward.

White lines were painted on the ground at intervals, marking out waiting, inspection, and diversion zones.

The entire process was rigorous, efficient, and could even be described as full of a scientific feel.

This was too abnormal.

Slum folk cults either beguiled people with mumbo-jumbo rituals or coerced them with force; where would you find one this orderly?

This didn't look like a heretical cult at all — it looked like a well-trained Imperial Religion Epidemic Prevention Force.

He circled the entire monastery on patrol, the doubt in his heart growing heavier.

In essence, this place was a Second Reception Station.

Crowds diverted from further forward would undergo a second screening here; only those who passed review would be sent to the true Safe Isolation Zone.

No procedural flaw could be found; it was even more thorough than the official Imperial epidemic prevention squads.

Yet everywhere it reeked of wrongness.

Incense, emblems, sermons — everything wore the shell of the State Religion, yet the core always skewed in some unknown direction in the fine details.

Like a masterfully copied famous painting that, upon close inspection, reveals different patterns hidden beneath the pigments.

Just then, a sudden scorching heat rose from Dominic's chest.

As if a red-hot branding iron had been pressed against his skin, the burn made his brow furrow fiercely and he instinctively raised a hand to press against his chest.

It was the holy relic pendant he wore close to his body.

Inside the pendant was sealed a Living Saint's finger bone, wrapped in a full twelve layers of parchment inscribed with Pure Marks.

Each layer of talisman paper could resist one instance of weaker Warp Corrosion erosion.

This was a treasure passed down through his clan for generations; from childhood to now, he had only seen it grow hot twice.

Once when encountering Chaos Space Marines boarding in the Warp, once when facing the corruption of a Lord of Lust Champion vanguard.

And now, it had actually begun to burn.

The scorching sensation lasted only a few short seconds before rapidly fading away.

Dominic felt it through his clothes; the pendant had already returned to warmth, but he could sense the outermost layer of talisman paper had completely burned to ash.

He looked up and happened to see two Apostles escorting three staggering infected persons toward the left-side room.

Although those people looked no different from ordinary civilians, the fact they could trigger the talisman paper's burning already explained everything.

I see.

Dominic understood clearly in his heart.

There was indeed Warp Corrosion aura in this monastery, coming from those Nurgle infected.

But these infected were screened out the moment they appeared and sent to the incineration chamber for disposal.

So the corruption aura just surfaced and vanished, and the holy relic only triggered a single warning.

He roughly scanned with his eyes; in just ten minutes, among the twenty-odd people who stepped forward, half went to the left-side incineration chamber.

A fifty-fifty infection rate.

This figure made his heart sink.

The Bottom City's epidemic was even more severe than he had expected.

Yet this Purge Plague Sect could, under such a high infection rate, precisely pick out the infected one by one — terrifyingly efficient.

Staying longer carried the risk of exposure.

Dominic gave the two Silent Sisters a retreat gesture, his gaze still searching for something.

He needed a piece of evidence.

But these Apostles were uniformly bald, wore masks on their faces, and were wrapped up tight from head to toe — not a single hair could be found.

Skin flakes were even harder to come by; their movements were clean and neat, not even leaving bloodstains.

Dominic's gaze fell on an Apostle on guard duty in the corner.

That man's gray robe at the left wrist was torn open a slit, revealing a small patch of skin beneath.

And at his feet lay a small piece of curled-up, dry, hard skin flake, like skin that had cracked and peeled from dryness.

There's only one chance.

Dominic shifted slightly underfoot, his figure sliding along the shadow.

He deliberately knocked over an empty metal bucket beside him.

With a "clang," the sound was especially piercing in the spacious room.

That Apostle turned his head instantly, his gaze sweeping over.

But the psychic perception swept over the empty corner and found nothing; the Sapphire Ring's shielding force field perfectly hid the three of them.

At the moment the Apostle turned his head, Dominic's fingertip swiftly brushed the ground, pinching that tiny piece of skin flake between his fingers.

The movement was as fast as a phantom.

The Apostle stared for a few seconds, found nothing abnormal, then turned back to continue Guard Duty.

Dominic and the other two retreated silently to the entrance of the ventilation pipe, exiting the way they came.

Only after standing again in the alley outside did Dominic release his fingers.

That tiny piece of skin flake was carefully sealed by him into a Vacuum Sampling Tube.

The skin's colour was an abnormal grayish-purple, its texture rather hard, not quite like ordinary human skin debris.

"Interesting," he said in a low voice, putting away the Sampling Tube.

"Let's go, to the next place."

An hour later, they stood at the entrance of an abandoned street deeper in Lower City West District.

Here and the orderliness of the Monastery were two completely different worlds.

The buildings along both sides of the street were dilapidated, their windows black holes like the eye sockets of the dead.

Murky sewage flowed on the road surface, floating with rotting Debris and unidentified chunks of flesh.

Low Roars came from the distance from time to time, swaying figures faintly visible in the thick fog.

Those were Waa'gh infected by the Plague, having lost their reason, only knowing to devour Missing Persons.

The entire street was designated as a heavily infected area, with gray Mold Spots visible to the naked eye even in the air, bringing a sticky fishy smell into the Lung when breathed in.

And in the middle of the street, a Defensive Line made of sandbags, Steel Plates, and automatic machine gun towers forcibly separated this piece of Hell.

A twin-linked automatic heavy machine gun was mounted behind the Steel Plate, its cold Gun Mouth aimed at the depths of the street.

As long as a Waa'gh approached, the machine gun would automatically Open Fire, precisely blowing up their heads.

Shell casings clinked and clattered onto the ground, piling up into a small Bronze mountain.

Behind the Defensive Line was a temporary Camp enclosed by barbed wire.

Survivors constantly ran out from various alleys, crying and shouting as they rushed toward the Defensive Line.

The Apostle at the Camp entrance would quickly conduct the first round of screening; those who qualified were let in, those who didn't were directly blocked outside, left to be torn apart by Waa'gh.

Here is the Front Line of the Purge Plague Sect, the place of the first diversion.

Most infected would be screened out directly here, and only the remaining ones would be transferred to temporary Outposts like Monastery No. 331 for secondary screening, finally sent into the Safe Zone.