Chapter 737: Church of the Lord of Bones
A long list of quotes details the acquisition prices for various conditions, presented in a comprehensive and clear manner. This has long since formed an industry, and I finally understand where the income of Cando City’s corpse collectors comes from.
There are even competitors; the “Black Witch’s Little Shop” they mentioned is probably also a small shop that acquires corpses.
The bodies of the deceased are displayed on crude carts, where buyers and sellers scrutinize them, haggling over their value. They had toiled their entire lives before death, only to be treated as commodities to be bought and sold after death, devoid of any dignity and unable to rest in peace.
Looking at the emaciated state of these corpses and the clothes they wore (though most were stripped bare), I could tell they were all poor individuals. Those who weren’t poor wouldn’t end up dying on the streets, their bodies then collected and sold.
Furthermore, the other corpse sellers beside me might be carrying the bodies of their relatives. It’s not that they don’t love their families, but they can’t afford funeral expenses. If the bodies can be exchanged for a little money to improve their lives, they have no choice but to do so. It’s even possible that the deceased themselves requested this in their dying wish.
More terrifyingly, Giselle informed me that this practice is legal. If these private corpse collectors were not allowed to operate, dead bodies would frequently appear on the city streets, forcing the Lord of the City to spend a significant sum to hire collectors for cleanup. It would be far better to let private individuals bear this expense.
“Other cities do the same. Even without the Church of Bones, there will be other Mage Towers or Alchemist Shops acquiring corpses. Often, the dead are more useful than the living,” Giselle said.
I know her statement is true, as human corpses are important materials for magic. For instance, Sherris, beside me, requires a part of the human body for every spell she casts, making corpses a necessity.
The question is, do these corpse collectors only do the work of collecting corpses? Take the Church of Bones here, for example. They simply exchange money for bodies, without questioning the source. How can they guarantee that the corpse collectors aren’t robbing graves or even killing people to sell their bodies?
Better quality corpses are worth more, fresher corpses are worth more, and corpses with souls are worth the most. After death, souls gradually dissipate, so only recently deceased corpses are the best. In that case, wouldn’t actively killing for money be faster and better?
I dare not think any further. The Murder Church next door, at least, advocates against pointless slaughter, whereas this place can easily lead to indiscriminate killing.
The corpse collector before me, in my eyes, was covered in a grey miasma of death, as if he had crawled out of a pile of corpses. Getting closer, I could smell the stench of decay.
Normally, I would be disgusted by this smell of rot and try to avoid it. But now, I surprisingly find it tolerable. At least he doesn’t carry the scent of killing intent or fresh blood, nor the smell of earth. This indicates that he is indeed a diligent and legitimate corpse collector, not a murderer or a grave robber.
I’m reminded of Gogol’s famous work, “Dead Souls,” which I read in my previous life, describing the scene where landowner Plyushkin sold the souls of his deceased serfs.
In the original novel, it was merely a sixth-rank civil official using deceased but still registered serfs as collateral to defraud deposits; the serfs were dead and that was that.
But if there were a Plyushkin in this world, would he truly sell the bodies and even souls of his deceased serfs registered under him for money?
My knowledge tells me that this is certainly possible, at least technologically. Whether it’s my Spirit Communication Technique or Older Brother Jayad killing with the Ruby Shortsword, we can technically trap souls and sell them here.
Therefore, the barrier to entry for this business is not high at all. Plyushkin might have been a fictional character, but perhaps every landowner is a Plyushkin.
“Trapping souls to sell? This place feels very terrifying,” Lorna said, sounding a little scared. She herself is in a soul state.
“I actually think this is quite good. Perhaps I can use this method to acquire corpses too,” Sherris thought instead.
“Let’s go. There’s nothing more to see here,” I said noncommittally. Although I disapprove of this business, I am powerless to change it. In fact, I might even need corpses as materials myself, so I’m in no position to judge.
“Okay, the place for proper funeral arrangements should be ahead. Let’s go,” Giselle pointed in a direction, glancing at Sherris. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but what this little girl said was somewhat chilling upon reflection.
We hadn’t walked far when an incredibly flashy building appeared before us. First, in the dense fog, we saw several firelights hovering in mid-air, with a high tower dimly visible beneath them.
As we got closer, we could see a building resembling a giant tomb. Several winged demon statues clung to the outer walls. These should be famous monsters, Gargoyles. I wondered if the Gargoyles here were real or fake.
The building’s walls were carved with scenes of death. Four chimneys stood behind, from which fiery light and thick smoke spewed forth.
This architectural style seemed to combine a tomb with a crematorium. I also suspected that the smoke enveloping the entire cemetery was being expelled from here.
Could such a place truly allow the deceased to rest in peace? I highly doubted it. Moreover, I had already seen some Undead creatures entering and exiting. However, it was true that several proper hearses were parked beside this mausoleum.
Additionally, I saw a long row of hearses on the open ground beside the mausoleum, all neatly arranged and of identical design. They bore the same Emblem as the mausoleum: a three-dimensional Skull. It seemed these were all church hearses, and they even provided hearse services.
“Let’s get off, here we are,” Giselle said, jumping off the carriage. I also dismounted and said to Sherris, “You wait here to watch the carriage and Madam’s coffin. I’ll go in and take a look.”
We walked into the tomb’s main entrance. There were two guards on each side, both wearing black robes with white masks and bound with white ropes that resembled human bones in their formation.
However, unlike the Murder Church, they didn’t question those entering and exiting. Everyone was allowed in.
Entering the main hall, we found it wasn’t as eerie as it looked from the outside. Inside, it was like a normal church hall, only more solemn and dignified, resembling a mourning hall, which fit the atmosphere.
The hall was furnished with benches for guests to wait. In the center stood a statue of the Lord of Bones. On either side, where normal churches would have small confessionals, there were instead several business counters.
Each counter had a sign above it, offering services such as Legacy Agency, Estate Probate, Pre-death Guidance, Funeral Arrangements, and even a most absurd one: Resurrection of the Deceased.
