Not long after, the bartender reappeared. “Two young ladies, please come in. The elder is waiting for you.” With that, he led the way, and we followed, passing through a hidden door behind the bar.
The elder, presumably the highest-ranking person here, had a promotion system in the Murder Church that was unlike other churches. It wasn’t based on seniority or understanding of doctrine. The Murder Church’s selection standard was simple: kill!
Several candidates would be dispersed and made to assassinate each other until only one remained. That person would become the elder, a ‘raising venom’ mode. Consequently, those who reached high positions in the church, even if not the strongest, were definitely the most cunning, as it was the only way to survive.
I glanced at Giselle. She had already prepared me for this step. The title of the Murder Church’s elder was “Purple Robed Death God,” usually bestowed only upon the strongest Murder Masters. Cando City had one, and we needed to face him. As for the Purple Robed Death God’s strength, according to Giselle, she herself definitely couldn’t defeat him, and she believed that even with me, we still couldn’t.
The reason I dared to come was that I possessed the Murder’s Divine Power, and coupled with my relationship with Lavias, we were, in a way, insiders. Even if discovered, there wouldn’t be a fatal threat. At worst, we could use money to smooth things over.
Along the way, we passed the bar, kitchen, and ingredient storage room. The bartender walked silently ahead, while we strolled leisurely behind, almost as if we didn’t need him to lead the way. The bartender led us down to the basement, which was the wine cellar. We walked to a wine rack filled with barrels, but he didn’t stop, casually walking right through it. Giselle and I also didn’t stop. Emitting a trace of the Murder’s Divine Power, we walked straight through. As expected, we encountered no resistance and smoothly passed through the wine barrels.
Inside was a very dark reception room. The overall decor was luxurious, but it was mainly in red and black. Coupled with the flickering candlelight, it felt very eerie, reminding me of a medieval ancient castle. This style brought to mind the room where Lavias hid when I met him. In fact, I used my God’s Eye to peek and found that this was indeed part of the underground castle.
The so-called elder was leaning against a leather chair, his entire body hidden in darkness. However, this slight darkness in light sources wouldn’t affect a normal Murder Church believer, and I could easily see his entire form. He wore a purple robe like us, with a hooded head and a black mask covering his face. His purple robe was more 고급 than ours, with many mysterious patterns embroidered in black and red. If we looked like at least discreet killers, his attire was overly conspicuous, making him look like a cultist, very suspicious.
But at the level of a Purple Robed Death God, attire probably no longer mattered. As long as he didn’t want to be seen, he could even run naked in the street and no one would see him.
“Two sisters, please sit,” the Purple Robed Death God said, extending a hand. I didn’t rush to sit but first used my Spiritual Sense to carefully perceive the Purple Robed Death God before me. He had no aura whatsoever, as if he didn’t exist. But upon closer perception, he felt like an unfathomable abyss, impossible to gauge its depth, as if light itself would be swallowed by the endless darkness. Further perception revealed that beneath this abyss lay an endless expanse of graves. His presence exuded only death; his very existence foretold death.
What a dreadful aura. This person was the real elder, at least not a stand-in. Though unlikely, I had to be cautious about whether they might test us.
“May Baal watch over you, embrace you,” Giselle and I repeated the prayer, simultaneously making a strange gesture, forming our hands into knives and drawing them across our throats. This action looked like slitting one’s throat, and it would be considered a provocation outside. But within the Murder Church, it was a gesture of respect from a subordinate to a superior, incomprehensible to outsiders.
“And may Baal watch over you, two sisters, please sit,” the Purple Robed Death God said, appearing very pleased. Our actions were equivalent to showing him great respect. Two high-ranking priests from outside paying him solemn respects was a display of deference. The Murder Church’s internal competition was fierce, often life-or-death, so such respect was rare. I, however, couldn’t help but want to complain. I certainly didn’t want Baal watching me, whether it was a psychopath or a Great Fly observing me, neither was a good thing.
We sat down, and the bartender silently poured us two glasses of “Bloody Queen.” Just pulling the cork released a unique, intoxicating aroma. Merely smelling it was enough to make one feel dizzy. Without hesitation, I lifted my wine glass, removed my mask, and took a gentle sip, savoring the rich wine aroma. Simultaneously, a dreamlike sensation flooded my brain, and my Murder’s Divine Power within my body increased noticeably.
The Purple Robed Death God took the opportunity to look at our faces, but the faces of the two girls were blurry, like looking at flowers through mist, impossible to remember. As he tried to get a clearer look, he met my eyes. They were emerald green, filled with coldness and a disregard for life, making even his own gaze seem like he was looking at an object. The Purple Robed Death God felt he had seen many eyes filled with killing intent in the Murder Church, and eyes that looked like they were staring at a corpse, but such an indifferent gaze was very rare. It was the gaze of someone who saw no life, only prey.
The Purple Robed Death God even felt that she seemed to be appraising him. Yes, that slightly intoxicated gaze was looking at him, analyzing his value as a sacrifice. In Murder Church terms, was he worth killing? I had been constantly recalling Giselle’s earlier teachings and repeatedly reliving the feeling of my sacrifices, seeing everyone as potential offerings.
In fact, back at the bar, several people had stood up wanting to test me. No member of the Murder Church was easily fooled; their vigilance was extremely high. Of course, they wanted to test us. Back then, I had looked at them, thinking to myself, “What reward would I get by sacrificing this one?” and “Could sacrificing that one suppress my vascular disease for a while?” Instantly, they all felt a creepy, chilling sensation, instinctively sensing something was wrong. That purple-robed Priestess at the bar was extremely dangerous; it was best not to approach her.
This killer’s instinct was present even in low-ranking members. The Purple Robed Death God naturally possessed it, and his intuition and instincts were even stronger. He could vaguely sense what level of person this woman had killed, which was also one of the Murder Church’s criteria for judging whether a member had completed their mission. But he was startled when he sensed this woman. Because he vaguely perceived divinity in her. This woman had actually killed a Demigod!
