Machine operation sounds echoed through the factory facilities, roaring water rushed through giant pipes, and the pungent smell of chemical agents permeated the air, making one nauseous.

Agatha stood by the protective railing, peering down into the surge tank below. She saw the turbid liquid churning in the huge reservoir, occasionally bubbling and shimmering with bizarre colors, as disgusting as a giant beast's stomach acid.

A manager in a light brown jacket, with thinning hair, stood behind the young Gatekeeper, a nervous expression on his face, one hand unconsciously clutching the button on his chest.

"The drainage from North Oak Street and the surrounding areas of Cemetery No. 4 all converge here," the manager carefully reported, watching the Gatekeeper's expression. "After receiving the order, we immediately cut off the surrounding pipe connections and checked the alarm devices in each surge tank. We found no signs of desecration or contamination..."

Agatha listened silently, and after a while, she suddenly asked, "How is the sewage usually treated?"

"How is it treated?" The manager was taken aback, then quickly replied, "First, high-pressure steam is used to purify any potential desecration contamination—you know, that sewage has come into contact with humans and flowed through dark pipes, inevitably becoming a carrier for certain things. After steam purification, it undergoes sedimentation and filtration; what you see is the sedimentation tank. Then comes a second steam purification. After this purification, some of the water is sent back to the factory for recycling, and the rest... is discharged into the sea."

Agatha nodded gently, then asked, "How long does it usually take for sewage from North Oak Street to flow here?"

"It depends on the specific situation, but usually no more than two hours," the manager replied.

"How long does the sewage stay here?"

"The water in the sedimentation tank is replaced every seventy-two hours," the manager raised his hand, becoming increasingly nervous under the Gatekeeper's questions. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead but still answered accurately, "The purification and inspection process has strict regulations; it won't be shorter than that."

Agatha nodded slightly, simultaneously calculating the time of the "fake" incident in the house and the sewage treatment time. She said thoughtfully, "In other words, if that thing could escape through the drainage system, it should still be here..."

"Gatekeeper, Your Excellency," the manager wiped his shiny forehead again, finally unable to contain his curiosity. "What... happened? Is contamination spreading through the sewage system?"

"...That possibility cannot be ruled out," Agatha glanced at the manager, then looked at the black-clothed guards not far away who were collecting samples and inspecting the facilities. "But according to our tests so far, everything here is normal."

"Yes," the manager gave a somewhat forced smile. "Every part of this facility has an alarm device specifically for detecting potential desecration contamination. The processing center also has three on-site priests who test water samples every day..."

"On-site priests?" Agatha seemed to suddenly think of something, turning her head. "You just said there are three on-site priests here?"

"Th... three," perhaps because Agatha's tone suddenly became a little frightening, the manager stammered unconsciously. "Is there a problem?"

"There can only be two priests here—the number of on-site priests in municipal facilities at all levels is strictly regulated. Where did the third one come from?"

The manager's expression instantly froze, and then a layer of fine sweat appeared on his forehead, visible to the naked eye. Fear and dread floated in his eyes.

Seeing this, Agatha immediately raised her staff and placed it on his shoulder, forcibly suppressing the "fear" from his mind. At the same time, she said seriously, "Listen, you must remain calm. Go bring all the on-site priests here. Say the Gatekeeper needs to understand the situation better. Don't reveal any other emotions, understand?"

The manager's mood quickly calmed down a lot, but some nervousness still remained. He nodded慌忙点着头:"Yes, I... understand... I'll go now."

Agatha nodded, putting away her staff, but as he was about to leave, she remembered something and quickly said, "Wait, not just the on-site priests—bring everyone here."

The manager turned back, startled. "Everyone?"

"Everyone," Agatha repeated in a deep voice, then asked worriedly, "Since yesterday, has anyone left this processing center?"

"No!" the manager immediately replied. "The order came fifteen minutes before the shift change. Everyone working here stayed."

"Very good, bring them all here—say it's a necessary inspection, be relaxed, don't arouse suspicion, go."

The balding manager turned and hurried away, calming his emotions as he walked. Agatha stood motionless by the surge tank, watching his figure disappear behind a door not far away. Then she raised her hand and signaled to the guards who had noticed the movement.

The nearby black-clothed guards immediately began to act, arranging hidden runes on the open ground around the surge tank, sprinkling essential oils and crushed incense powder at the intersections and between the pipes, and standing in specific positions, pretending to still be inspecting the facilities.

While the guards were moving, Agatha raised her staff and slowly drew a triangular outline about two meters on a side around her. Then, standing in the center of the triangle, she leaned on the staff with both hands, waiting calmly.

Before long, footsteps came from the direction of the gate. The manager returned to the factory where the surge tank was located, with a large group of people behind him.

Among them, three clerics wearing the robes of the Church of the Dead and wearing holy emblems were clearly visible.

A dozen processing center employees, led by the manager, came to Agatha, forming a loose line, nervously greeting the "Gatekeeper" in front of them. The three on-site priests came from the side of the line, saluting Agatha according to the etiquette and status within the Church of the Dead.

Agatha ordered the three priests to stand apart, then slowly scanned all the faces.

She noticed a sense of incongruity.

Although she didn't see any suspicious expressions or actions, and didn't feel any strange aura, Bartok's blessing had confirmed the existence of the incongruity—hidden in their breathing, in their heartbeats, even in the shadows they cast on the ground.

Agatha blinked, confirming again that everything she saw was normal, and then she understood.

There was indeed cognitive interference—and even with the "Gatekeeper" present, this cognitive interference still existed.

Was it simply because they were very bold? Or because they didn't understand the Gatekeeper's power? Or... was this cognitive interference uncontrollable?

Agatha slowly turned her head, her eyes falling on the three priests.

Leaving aside the dozen or so workers for the moment, one of these three priests was definitely fake—but which one?

"Recite Bartok's name," Agatha said slowly, "Let the Lord of Death watch over us, and enable us to distinguish falsehood in the mortal world."

"In the name of Bartok, Lord of Death," one priest immediately said, "May He watch over us..."

Immediately, the second and third priests also spoke, "In the name of Bartok, Lord of Death..."

Three voices sounded one after another, like echoes.

Agatha frowned.

Being able to recite the name of the god meant they were not "fakes" formed of mud, nor were they heretical cultists, otherwise the violent conflict in faith would have been enough to tear apart their sanity.

But how was that possible? Were all three priests real?

Agatha's thoughts raced, but her expression remained calm. She nodded to the three, "Next, I need to do some necessary tests, please forgive me."

As she spoke, she reached for her left eye—a living eyeball immediately popped out of its socket and landed accurately in her hand.

Agatha held up the eyeball, "looking" at the three priests opposite her.

The figure of the first priest entered her sight—a gaunt old man, wearing a linen robe, jet-black chains extending from below his ribs, the deep, dark hound at the end of the chains raising its head towards her, the blasphemous, turbid energy in its mouth rapidly gathering and taking shape!

Heretic!

He actually dared to stand here openly!

Agatha's expression changed slightly, but she was prepared. The moment the dark hound opened its huge mouth, she had already flashed to the side, and at the same time, the staff in her right hand had been raised, the tip blazing with pale flames.

However, just as she was about to ignite the heretic, another low, obscure incantation suddenly came from the side.

The eyeball in Agatha's left hand suddenly rotated. The next second, she saw a young man with yellowish hair and a high nose raise his hands towards her, a gray-black jellyfish, seemingly condensed from mist, floating behind him.

That was the second "priest."

A feeling of dizziness surged through her mind. Just as Agatha was about to steady herself, she heard the third incantation.

A pale-faced woman, raising her hand towards her at the edge of her vision, a cat formed of bones and mist crouching beside the woman.

That was the third priest.

All the priests were fake.

Roars and battle cries came from all directions.

The moment the three Annihilation cultists launched their attack, the surrounding guards reacted and tried to support her, but they also met their own enemies.

The dozen or so "workers" brought by the manager engaged in fierce fighting with the nearby black-clothed guards.

In the corner of Agatha's eye, she could see the bodies of the "workers" cracking like mud, splattering viscous filth after being hit.

Only the balding manager ran wildly to a nearby pipe, screaming helplessly and in terror.

The entire sewage treatment center... had only one "human."