Chapter 2730: Chapter Two Thousand Seven Hundred Seventy-Four: The Nun in Death

"Most likely demon worshippers. I think, through these people, we should be able to investigate what that demon has been doing recently."

Xia De said, looking at his own right arm, which was still red, swollen, and ulcerated, though the ash-staining marks on it had lessened considerably.

But there was nothing in the deserted village, and the people who had arrived there via the dock had left no clues either. Re-entering the relic event was temporarily pointless, so the only clue remaining was the old woman they had brought out of the deserted village.

"It was too reckless of me to light the fire directly just now; the matter here really isn't something we can handle right now. Flora, can you make this opening? This is your specialty."

Xia De asked the deceased Great Witch:

"Or use the Wall of Sighs—your thaumaturgy is really too useful."

But the witch shook her head with some difficulty:

"Sorry, you're thinking of that thaumaturgy as too omnipotent. The situation with this soul we've brought out is very complicated; I'm worried that once we try to interfere with it by external force, it will cause the other parts of that demon to notice that we're investigating it."

So Flora thought again:

"Didn't you say you can open a passage to true death? No matter how powerful that demon is, it cannot extend its influence there; the 'Finish Line' is one of the foundations of our world. Exile this soul into true death, and once she regains consciousness beneath the Underworld Moon, we can try asking questions again."

That was a good idea, and based on Xia De's previous experience, it seemed that all souls entering death would return to normal upon stepping onto those waters.

So he raised his hand to tear open the passage, but upon lifting his right arm, he felt that it was still stiff and numb.

Seeing his movement pause, Flora hurriedly supported his hand:

"No rush—if Dannister knew I went out with you and you ended up like this, she would definitely blame me."

"It was my own carelessness; I must say again, I really shouldn't have hastily lit the fire in the cellar just now."

Xia De stood up in the small boat with her support, but instead of considering opening that one-time passage, he reached out and grabbed; the oar that had been lying in the cabin looking utterly unremarkable flew into his hand on its own.

Unlike the rather impressive 【God's Gift Box】 and the rather miraculous 【Butterfly-Summoning Flute】, the Ferryman's oar looked plain and unadorned. No special patterns, and certainly no runes or ritual arrays.

The wooden oar only had the word "Ferry" carved at the handle, and it was carved in the Sixth Epoch Drarian common tongue.

Therefore Flora hadn't noticed the oar's unusual nature at first, but when Xia De asked her to support him as he walked toward the stern, and he gripped the oar preparing to row, the witch realized that this oar was somewhat excessively archaic.

The light, pattering rain on their bodies was especially comfortable for the two who had just escaped the fire, and Flora's perception let her notice something was off:

"Where did this oar come from? I sense an unusual power."

"Similar in origin to my Gift Box."

Xia De said this vaguely, so the beautiful lady raised an eyebrow, but before she could be surprised, Xia De had already steadied himself at the stern with the support of her arm:

"I'll pole the boat with you; we're setting off."

Xia De wasn't truly unable to stand—his arm was injured, not his legs. Although he had indeed been somewhat drained of strength just now, lying down for a while had let him recover. He simply hoped Flora could feel the sensation that was coming, and the witch, mistakenly believing Xia De really couldn't stand, immediately moved behind him, wrapped her arms around him, and gripped the oar together with him.

The old woman's soul still stood dully in the cabin, and as the oar was dipped into the water, Xia De exerted a slight force, and the boat's speed drifting with the current immediately increased.

Xia De didn't row the oar very frequently, only occasionally using it to stir the water's surface.

Neither of them spoke, but gradually, within that somewhat monotonous sound of water, the witch felt an indescribably wondrous sensation. This feeling was like the tremor of hearing a dead person's final sigh in life, and also like the emotion of seeing a soul that refuses to leave, is unwilling to leave, yet cannot remain, cast one last backward glance toward its loved ones.

Before they knew it, the small boat had sailed into a thin mist, and then at some next moment, the surrounding fog suddenly became so thick that the scenery of the woodland around them was completely invisible.

The sounds of late-autumn forest vanished completely, leaving only the sound of Xia De rowing the oar. And Flora Winslette, who was gripping the oar together with Xia De, felt her entire body growing cold, as death was touching her soul in an indescribable manner.

But this chill soon vanished, because the warm, moon-like gentleness emanating from the man she was embracing quite powerfully dispelled that chill brought by touching death.

She instinctively held her breath, and her hands instinctively gripped the oar harder to row, then she felt Xia De apply a force in the opposite direction:

"Wrong, not in that direction."

Xia De said, looking at the faint golden light-trace on the misty water's surface produced by the Ferryman's blessing, then steered the small boat to turn slightly in the mist, sailing toward a more distant place.

So Flora stopped exerting force, letting Xia De grip her hand to steer the small boat.

Perhaps only a few seconds later, or perhaps a very long time after, within the milky-white glowing thick fog, a silver radiance came from behind.

Flora instinctively turned her head to look back, and so the heavy fog parted, and she saw the enormous silver moon half-sunk in the pitch-black water, and also saw countless milky-white glowing souls standing peacefully before that silver moon, gradually walking toward that legendary Underworld Moon.

That was the direction of the end, that was the true final destination of the dead.

"Death..."

Although in the past, for various reasons, it wasn't as if she hadn't seen the scenery here, she had never so truly felt herself entering death. But precisely because of the small boat beneath her feet, death's power did not severely affect her.

Clearly being here, yet watching the Underworld Moon as a living person—thinking of this point, she felt she was truly about to tremble.

The small boat jolted lightly, and Flora turned her head to notice that the wooden boat had run aground on a shoal. The shoal was composed of faded pebbles and gray sandstone, and it wasn't large; at its end was a stone wall extending to both sides as if endless, and embedded in the middle of the stone wall was a "Gate of Death" that she had seen in the Council's records, used by Fifth Epoch witches to execute criminals.

The eight-ringed Ring of Fate unconsciously manifested itself at this moment, but was silent because of the current environment, even the steam-mist was nearly exceedingly thin.

At the same time, the eight-tiered golden stairs also appeared step by step behind her. Flora was just about to confirm what she had gained from the journey just now, when she heard Xia De suddenly shout:

"Sister Sister Daifulin!"

Upon the Underworld Shoal, the nun kneeling before the bonfire with her hands clasped together and her head resting upon her hands raised her head. The longsword 【Ashes】 was thrust into the bonfire, and when the silver eye-mask "looked" toward them in the firelight, it flickered with an obscure, unclear radiance.

What was very interesting was that before Xia De called out the nun's name, Flora had completely failed to notice that there was a bonfire and a person on this shoal. It wasn't deliberate neglect, but rather that before then, Sister Sister Daifulin seemed to simply not be here:

"Sister Sister Daifulin?"

Xia De knew Sister Sister Daifulin had temporarily left the ritual site to refine her own power, but he hadn't expected her to appear here. As he spoke, he directly jumped off the small boat; Flora, who had originally been holding him, had just wanted to follow, but her instinctive perception of danger made her immediately stop.

She was different from Xia De and Sister Sister Daifulin—if not necessary, it was best not to leave the small boat.

Sister Sister Daifulin then also stood up from the fire, and with her feet beneath the nun's robes taking steps, she crossed the bonfire and came to the side of the small boat on the shore. She folded her hands together and let them hang before her, first nodding to Flora Winslette, then "looked" toward the burn marks still remaining on Xia De's arms.

Although Sister Sister Daifulin's pale, fair face, slightly lowered, showed no expression, the witch watching this scene immediately knew she was angry. Xia De had originally wanted to say something, but seeing the nun looking at his arm, he closed his mouth as well.

After a moment of silence and stillness, Sister Sister Daifulin proactively extended her right hand toward Xia De's arm. A bit of gentle firelight was drawn out by her right hand, and then that gentle firelight touched Xia De's skin:

"Thaumaturgy—Warm Fire."

Within that ball of gentle firelight, the burn marks on Xia De's hands receded at a speed visible to the naked eye. But the nun did not let go; instead, she lowered her head and used her left hand to slightly lift her own eye-mask, then grabbed Xia De's arm and placed it before her lowered gray eyes.

Xia De then felt the back of his hand touch a bit of moisture:

"Thaumaturgy—Healing Tears."

The ash curse that had been plaguing Xia De, as well as the lurking though harmless but disgusting demon curse, all vanished within that teardrop, like ice meeting lava.

After finishing these things, the nun lowered Xia De's hand, then lowered her head and pushed her eye-mask back down and straightened it. Throughout the entire healing process she did not speak a word, but the witch watching all this still considered this matter very frightening.

It wasn't the healing process that was frightening, but rather this nun, who usually didn't talk much and seemed very serene, was frightening. Before this autumn, her few exchanges with Sister Sister Daifulin had been limited to the Council; she had originally assumed Sister Sister Daifulin was the very introverted type, but now it seemed her judgment was entirely wrong.

The fire-bearing nun was like a charred log—seemingly lifeless on the surface, but should the need arise, that flame was enough to set the whole world ablaze.