Chapter 1 The Beginning

Hearing the death priest's words, the old watchman didn't immediately cooperate like ordinary gravediggers. Instead, he frowned in dissatisfaction, "I'm the cemetery watchman, and I've never heard of needing the watchman's avoidance for actions within the cemetery."

"The situation is special, sir," the short man in black took half a step forward, his tone serious and sincere. Seeing the stubborn expression on the old watchman's face, he finally sighed, "Alright, I shouldn't be telling you this—this corpse is to be sent to the Silent Cathedral."

"Silent Cathedral?" The old watchman asked subconsciously, "What exactly is this..."

"Severe unknown contamination, possibly related to something in the depths of the mine. We're going to perform a special purification ritual. The fewer living people present, the better," the short man said with a serious expression. "It's not just you who needs to leave. One of my colleagues and I will also be leaving with you."

As he spoke, the tall, sturdy man in black also stepped forward, silently standing beside the short man.

The old watchman looked at the two black-robed priests before him, then at the black-robed woman standing by the mortuary slab—she had already taken out herbs and holy oil for the ritual and was beginning to set up a temporary altar on the open space in front of the slab.

"Alright, since it involves the mine and contamination, then that's not my responsibility," the old man finally gave up his stubbornness. He shrugged, picked up his shotgun, turned and walked towards the cemetery path, then turned back to beckon the two black-robed men, one tall and one short, "Come on, I have some hot tea in my cabin, and you can warm yourselves by the fire. The cemetery is colder at night than outside."

The two men in black exchanged glances, then stepped forward to follow the old man, casually saying, "Thank you for your hospitality, sir."

The old watchman and the two men in black left. Only the thin-lipped man in black and the perpetually silent, gaunt woman remained by the mortuary slab.

And a coffin that hadn't quieted down yet.

The silent woman immediately stepped forward. With creaks and groans, the already flimsy coffin was quickly opened. Then, she pushed it forward with her cane, completely pushing the dark coffin lid aside.

Fu Wun finally stepped down from the platform, slowly walking two steps forward, curiously looking at the man not far away: "So, this is the so-called 'spell' that the Annihilation Cultists borrowed from the mouths of demons?"

Duncan lay quietly in the coffin, thinking about his conversation with the watchman and guessing the origins of the unexpected guests.

Duncan raised his hand in the coffin, watching a small cluster of green flames dance on his fingertips, illuminating the cramped space.

In the flickering green light, he saw cheap, low-quality wooden planks, smooth linen lining, and the coffin lid covered with dense octagonal emblems—these should be the marks of Bartok, the God of Death.

Black chains, and a bizarre creature wreathed in white smoke, living together.

"Stop!" The male cultist finally reacted. He suddenly took several steps back, then raised his hand and pointed at Cai Cheng, the words from his throat seeming to be mixed with another deep, hoarse voice, as if another caster was chanting a spell through his throat: "He deprives you of the ability to move, orders you to stop here!"

"Ah, right, disguise," Duncan belatedly nodded, then slowly got up from the coffin, carefully climbing down from the platform—his movements were slow because this body wasn't very easy to use, "A Gou seems to have the talent to interfere with perception and help symbiotes disguise their identities. So this is their common technique? But to be honest, your disguise abilities aren't very reliable. I've never seen it work without a hitch..."

The landing journey in Frost... was indeed different from the one in Prante. Although it didn't seem very smooth, it was fun in its own way.

Duncan raised his eyebrows, his gaze sweeping over the two people in front of him—a woman with a pale face, large hands and feet, and a dark brown coat sat up from inside, looking at them curiously.

"Wait a moment," the man in black raised his hand to stop his companion.

Then he came to the coffin and knocked on it with a bent finger, "Are you still in there?"

The silent woman in black came to the coffin. With a flick of her cane, a metal hook popped out from the end, turning it into a crowbar.

The man in black stopped setting up the altar.

The only thing he was dissatisfied with was the poor execution efficiency of the body.

Then, the man and woman in black looked up at the wide-open coffin.

These emblems were obviously not "noble handicrafts" either, but should have been printed directly by a machine. Anyway, the effect was about the same.

"What are you saying?" The man in black frowned, then immediately straightened his face and ordered in a low voice that seemed to carry a strange power, "Come out first, and leave this place with us."

The other was a slender woman wearing a thick gray-blue coat. A chain extended directly from her throat, the other end connected to a huge jellyfish floating in the air. The jellyfish seemed to have no substance, its entire body made of drifting smoke, with a blood-red core deep inside that constantly swelled and wriggled, like a heart.

The man and woman in black were both stunned at the words, then showed shock. The thin-lipped man even subconsciously took half a step back, staring at Duncan in the coffin with shock and vigilance: "You can see through our disguise?!"

Both cultists were now showing shock.

The coffin was thin and not tightly sealed. He could vaguely hear the voices of people outside. He had just heard the watchman and the two uninvited guests leave, and now he could hear some rustling sounds, as if the people who stayed behind were walking around the coffin.

And with his gesture of "silence," the coffin lid falling to the ground didn't make a sound. In the blink of an eye, the light wooden board turned into white dust that scattered in the wind, disappearing silently into the night.

"Thank you, then," the voice in the coffin said politely.

After a long time, Cai Cheng smiled faintly and sighed softly, "Ah, it seems to be getting interesting."

The wooden board slid off the platform, falling lightly on the gravel ground.

The strange bird's body steamed with white smoke. It perched steadily on the man's shoulder, the two blood-colored holes on its head staring intently at Fu Wun, every bone fragment in its body trembling slightly.

The man in black restrained the expression on his face, took half a step back slightly, and nodded to the silent woman holding the crowbar: "Open it."

"...No need to look," Duncan casually fabricated, "In fact, I'm still conscious now. I don't know how I got here, and the cemetery watchman said I was actually dead and would be burned in a few days... What's going on? And what are you people doing?"

"Your cold jokes are as cold as this night, sir," the man in black laughed, "Of course, we will let you out, and then you just need to come with us, and you don't have to worry about anyone continuing to bother you."

"But now it seems that the effect is still like a meteor dog—at least it can scare him."

Obviously, two Annihilation Cultists.

"Ah, we're here to help you," the man in black said lightly, "You don't want to be burned, do you?"

A woman, wearing a dark-colored dress, her face looked thin and mean, and a black chain protruded between her neck and collarbone. The chain was obviously one with her body, as if it extended directly from her collarbone, the end of the chain connected to a beautiful strange bird twisted and pieced together from black bone fragments.

"Ah, I'm here," Cai Cheng replied immediately, "What's the matter?"

"Well, to be fair, it is indeed a little more elegant than Sherry.

The man in black raised a finger and made a gesture of silence, but a hoarse, low grumble came from her throat, which didn't sound like a human voice at all.

He stood up, glanced in the direction the watchman had left, confirmed that the stubborn old watchman had gone far away, and spat on the ground next to him.

Then he stepped towards the coffin in front of him.

"Disguise?"

The man in black frowned, as if a little confused, but then opened his mouth expressionlessly: "Do you know who you are?"

Duncan pricked up his ears again, listening to the movements outside the coffin.

Fortunately, the effect of the spirit flame was not affected.

"No hurry," Duncan sat in the coffin, shaking his head with a smile, "The chains on you are really unique—your abyssal demons are also quite unique, I thought only dogs had this thing."

"Of course—although the winter in Frost is indeed very cold, warming up in the crematorium is too challenging. Are we going to let him out?"

He stepped over the "altar" that had just been set up without caring, kicking away the herbal powder and the earthenware container holding the grease.

What are you going to do?