Industrial Upgrade

Bloodthirsty aberrant demons were an extremely peculiar group. They grew and passed down their lineage in the form of families, worshiping their respective family progenitors. To a certain extent, they were not fundamentally different from families with family faith systems. Yet in the narratives of the major churches, they were still classified under the aberrant demon category. Part of the reason was that they were simply too arrogant, preferring to be called "aberrant demons" rather than "reduced" to humans. But the more complicated and profound cause lay in history. During the previous era, bloodthirsty aberrant demons had grown powerful enough to control several countries of considerable size and population. While aggressively expanding their "kindred," they gradually evolved into "royal races" and "divine races" idolized and worshiped by the common populace. That was the golden zenith of the bloodthirsty aberrant demons. The turning point from prosperity to decline came when the Church of Light issued a proclamation, branding the bloodthirsty aberrant demons outright as "darkness" and "heresy." Immediately after, the Church of Order responded to the Church of Light and spearheaded a war against the bloodthirsty aberrant demon race. In secular society, the other nations formed an allied coalition to launch a crusade against the countries controlled by the bloodthirsty aberrant demons. The outcome was foreordained. Even if the bloodthirsty aberrant demon race had been completely monolithic, they could never have been a match for the Church of Order, let alone the fact that they were already fractured at the time. Compared to the utter collapse of the "royals," the secular forces, though ultimately defeated as well, managed to fight several classic, victorious campaigns. Even after an entire era had elapsed, the tales of these victories had turned into legends circulating across that land. Even though those human military commanders were culturally branded with the label of "bloodthirsty aberrant demons," it still failed to diminish a certain charisma about them, making them widely adored by artists and writers. Particularly in modern times, with the development of cinema, stories of this kind were brazenly brought to the silver screen. Commanders who symbolized darkness were instead portrayed as deeply devoted, tragic lovers. Ever since then, the former "royal race" had declined into mere families. Facing bans and boycotts from the various churches, they could only develop as insular families in forgotten corners; one rarely heard of bloodthirsty aberrant demons venturing out to operate in human society. This situation had not changed in the slightest even after the demise of the Church of Light in the current era. For though Light had perished, Order still stood tall. Just as the Mural God Rielsa remained an evil god and the Church of the Mural God remained an evil cult, how could descendants grant an opportunity to rivals whom their predecessors had suppressed? The saying "when will reciprocal vengeance ever end" was generally used only when an opponent had risen back to power. If you could keep your foot pressed down on them forever, that saying would never find any use. Right now, the state of this female bloodthirsty aberrant demon's death was indeed gruesome and terrifying. As a funeral parlor employee and a God's Servant, Pike had certainly seen his fair share of things, but no matter how resilient a person's nerves were, nobody could withstand having such a scene spring up on them while taking a leak. At long last, Pike regained his composure. Feeling a delayed sense of embarrassment, he flushed with shame that he had been frightened this badly by a dead aberrant demon—and in front of this lord, no less. He immediately stood up, forgetting that his trousers were still unzipped, and zipped up too quickly—only to get himself painfully caught. "Owwwwww!" A scream even more agonizing than the last tore from his throat as he began hopping frantically in place. Dinkum ignored his companion altogether and asked Karen, "Boss, what should we do?" "You're asking me what to do?" Karen retorted. "How about you go call the police?" "Uh..." Dinkum suddenly realized: their establishment wasn't just a funeral parlor. When it came to matters involving aberrant demons, their Inquisition office was the very authority in charge! How had he forgotten that? Karen stepped forward and examined the corpse carefully. The silver nail had pierced through her chest and pinned her to the wall. The spot where the silver nail was driven in seemed a little peculiar... Karen instinctively gestured against his own chest to compare, but he couldn't figure out anything distinctly abnormal. Next, Karen reached out, gripped the end of the silver nail, and prepared to pull it out to take the corpse down. Dinkum warned, "Boss, be careful of blood contamination." Clearly, Dinkum recognized what a bloodthirsty aberrant demon was and knew that their blood possessed potent contamination. However, he did not know "Karen." After his previous experience beneath the sausage factory, Karen was certain that while his body wasn't impervious to all poisons, ordinary contamination could hardly affect him. All of this had to be credited to his dog. He pulled with force, but the nail wouldn't budge. "Support me," Karen said. "Yes, Boss." Dinkum came over and braced Karen's waist. Karen pressed one foot against the wall and pulled hard once more. Finally, the silver nail was yanked free. The corpse slid down along with it, slumping into the bathtub in a kneeling position, head bowed. "Cast a purification on yourselves, then transport her back on the gurney." "Yes, Boss." "Understood, Boss." Pike had finally recovered from the pain. Joining Dinkum, the two began chanting incantations, both their bodies enveloped in a faint black glow. Once fortified by purification, the two lifted the corpse, carrying it out of the bathroom first before placing it onto the gurney. "Clean up the bathroom as well. Don't leave any blood behind. Once it's cleaned, cast another purification over the room," Karen instructed. "Yes, Boss." The cleanup was completed shortly. Then, one in front and one behind, the two carried the corpse downstairs, loaded it into the hearse, and wrapped it securely in white cloth. Both of them then collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath. Today, they were truly exhausted—not just physically, but mentally as well. Karen retrieved three bottles of citrus soda from beneath the driver's seat and handed one to each of them. "Thank you, Boss." "Thank... thank you, Boss..." They both used their teeth to pop off the bottle caps. Karen, on the other hand, hooked his cap onto a protrusion along the edge of the hearse and yanked downward. The cap popped off, but another flake of paint peeled away from the already battered, modified hearse. Not only did the funeral parlor's name need to be changed, but it was also high time to replace the hearse. Uncle Mason had once said that only men with the mindset of the nouveau riche would bother competing and showing off luxury cars; the only vehicle truly capable of bearing the weight of life was a hearse. He just didn't know if Mrs. Lake had enough riels on hand. Probably not; otherwise, they wouldn't have rushed so desperately to snatch business when the tram exploded back then. As for his side, he didn't seem to have much either, but he couldn't very well take point coupons to the black market to exchange for riels—people would think he was a fool. "My head is spinning," Pike said. Dinkum nodded in agreement. Karen looked at them, thinking to himself: *So God's Servants are actually this weak.* For a long time now, he had likely been using himself as a frame of reference, which inevitably distorted his perception of reality. When he was a God's Servant, he could use several spells simultaneously, yet these two had merely maintained a basic purification spell for a little longer than usual and were already bordering on mental exhaustion. Even so, Dinkum pushed himself up. "Boss, should I look into the owner of this apartment?" Karen shook his head. "No need. Anyone who dared call us directly to come collect a body wouldn't be worried about what we could uncover through this apartment. Don't waste your energy. Finish your soda and let's head back." They all drained their sodas. Though Pike was worn out, he struggled to his feet and collected all three empty bottles. Karen drove as before, with Pike and Dinkum sitting in the back on either side, facing the corpse draped in white cloth. "I heard that if you're bitten by a bloodthirsty aberrant demon, you can gain immortality?" Pike asked tentatively. Dinkum nodded. "There does seem to be such a claim." Then, both of them turned their gazes toward Karen behind the wheel. Karen spoke, "You must be granted the First Embrace by a high-ranking bloodthirsty aberrant demon before your bloodline can be converted, granting you the ability to stay eternally young to a certain extent. But the increase in lifespan is actually minimal, and it might even be shortened. Even then, the number of First Embraces a high-ranking bloodthirsty aberrant demon can grant in a lifetime is very small and strictly limited. "And if an ordinary bloodthirsty aberrant demon bites you, all you get is a certain probability of becoming contaminated. As for the consequences of contamination, I believe you both know full well." Hearing this explanation, Pike and Dinkum instinctively shrank their necks. All of this had been read by Karen in Mr. Hoffen's notes. Mr. Hoffen had also offered his own perspective: he believed another crucial reason bloodthirsty aberrant demon families could never be classified under the family faith system was that other families relied on bloodline reproduction to acquire members, whereas they could expand their numbers through blood assimilation or contamination. That single trait ensured they would forever be ostracized by the orthodox churches. Still, now that he had loaded this thing into the vehicle and brought it back, what should he do with it next? Mulling it over as he drove, Karen finally settled on the most suitable method: Douse it in gasoline and burn it straight away! There was actually an official channel for turning it in. According to the records in Mr. Pavaro's work notebook, turning an aberrant demon's corpse over to the church yielded a reward, because the remains of aberrant demons and priests were themselves crafting materials. The problem was, Karen had seen an entry in the work notebook that went like this: *"The weather was quite pleasant today. I drove the hearse to the processing station to hand over an aberrant demon corpse I had just discovered and completed the registration. Next month's stipend will increase by 50 Order coupons."* Fifty Order coupons! Who were they trying to brush off—beggars? Karen felt there were major flaws in the grassroots system of the Church of Order. A God's Servant received a monthly stipend of 100 Order coupons, while a Seventh-Class Inquisitor received only 1,000. Oh, right—now he was a Fifth-Class Inquisitor, so his salary had gone up to 1,200 Order coupons a month. Plus, since he was also registered as his own God's Servant, he drew a ghost salary, adding another 100 God's Servant stipend. In other words, "working" for the Church of Order yielded him a monthly income of only 1,300 Order coupons. Meanwhile, whenever his cat and dog played with a scroll, a single one cost 1,000 Order coupons. Only now did Karen understand why Purr had said back then that using the Allen family as a "supporting family" was absolutely necessary. Income and expenditure were simply nowhere near proportional. Because of that, Karen felt turning in this female bloodthirsty aberrant demon's corpse just for a reward of fifty Order coupons wasn't worth it. Since the other party had called specifically asking their funeral parlor to collect the body, they were definitely aware of the parlor's true identity. Offending someone lurking behind the scenes for a mere fifty Order coupons was a losing proposition no matter how one calculated it. So, since you called the funeral parlor, I'll collect the corpse for you. A quick burn, bone ashes into an urn, and the matter would be settled. After all, he had just laid out his near-term plans that afternoon, so his priorities were crystal clear. The hearse drove back to the funeral parlor, and the body was unloaded. Mrs. Lake was already waiting there to receive it, but Karen pushed her back with an outstretched hand. "There's something unusual about this corpse. You must not touch it." "Oh, all right." Mrs. Lake obediently stepped back. "Pike, find some gasoline and burn the corpse directly. Dinkum, go to a crematorium and buy a decent urn. Nothing cheap." "We have urns at home," Mrs. Lake said. "Two of them as well, both good quality." Karen was momentarily taken aback. Earlier, two high-quality coffins had been stored in the house, and now there were two high-quality urns as well. So, both the coffins and the urns had been prepared for the two daughters? Considering the contamination on the two girls, burying them in coffins might cause contamination to leak, which was why urns had been prepared as well. "They won't be needing them anymore," Karen consoled her. "Yes, I know." A smile appeared on Mrs. Lake's face. "I'm not reluctant to part with them. I hope they get used up soon." The gurney and the body were placed on the mortuary slab, while Karen walked into the backyard. Would burning a corpse here arouse the suspicion of nearby residents? There was a small boiler in the house, but if he used it to cremate a body, would anyone ever dare use that boiler again? Just then, the telephone in the funeral parlor rang. Dinkum, cradling an urn in his arms, walked over to answer it. Just as he reached for the receiver, Karen stopped him with a sharp glance, and Dinkum quickly nodded and stepped away. Karen walked over and picked up the receiver. "Hello, Pavaro Funeral Parlor." "Excuse me, are you Inquisitor Pavaro?" "I... am." "Has my wife's body been collected by your establishment?" "Yes, it has." "Lord Inquisitor, may I beg you to hold a dignified funeral for my wife?" "I will place the urn in a designated location. You can go retrieve it yourself when the time comes." "But you run a funeral parlor, not a crematorium. What I want is a dignified funeral." "I'm sorry, but I believe you know full well what your wife was. It is very difficult for me to accommodate that." "My wife lost herself." "How unfortunate." "She sensed that once she lost herself, she wouldn't be able to resist killing and drinking blood. That is why she pinned herself to the wall with a silver nail." "Your wife was a good person." Karen recalled the strange feeling he had when he first examined the corpse closely—the peculiar angle and position where the silver nail pierced her chest. So that was why. "I owe her a great deal. I hope her passing can be more peaceful. "Mr. Pavaro, I know you are an upright man, a kind man. I have heard things about you, which is why I called you. "Please, I beg you, help me..." An upright man, a kind man? Who had told him that? Very few people actually knew about this matter. Jurist Qihe and his lot had already been dealt with, and the credit for the operation had been claimed by Viclay. In that entire affair, he had merely been a backdrop for Viclay. The circle of suspects shrank instantly. Recently, only three people knew the truth of what had happened: Viclay, who certainly wouldn't go around spreading the facts; Deputy Director Mi'ang? He wouldn't either. So... only one person remained. Karen spoke, "*Sigh*, the Captain is really making trouble for me." "I am so sorry. I begged the Captain for a long time before he told me that the Inquisition funeral parlor in the Blue Bridge Community might be willing to hold a funeral for my wife, because you, Inquisitor Pavaro, are a good man." It really was Neo! Now Karen found himself in a dilemma, because he couldn't make a choice based on his own preferences; he had to place himself in Mr. Pavaro's shoes. Faced with this situation, what would Mr. Pavaro have done? An aberrant demon who, sensing her imminent loss of sanity, committed suicide beforehand to prevent herself from slaughtering the innocent. "I will pay the funeral expenses, Lord Inquisitor. Please, I beg of you, Lord Inquisitor," the voice on the other end pleaded desperately. Funeral expenses? Karen's eyes narrowed slightly, and he immediately spoke into the receiver with earnest gravitas: "This isn't a matter of funeral expenses. I don't care about a few riels..." "I know, I know. How could a Lord Inquisitor be short on riels?" Actually, I'm very short on riels. The funeral parlor needed renovations to meet his standards, the backyard had to be rebuilt, a proper study was necessary instead of repurposing a bedroom, and the funds for a new hearse were nowhere in sight. "All I have here are some Abyss coupons. It isn't much, but it's the only way I can express my gratitude..." There really were point coupons! "It isn't about point coupons either. Such an act is forbidden, and I would be bearing immense liability for it." "I know, I know! That is precisely why I came to beg you. No other funeral parlor would ever hold a funeral for my wife. Please, I beg you..." "*Sigh*." Karen let out a sigh. "I respect your wife deeply. She was indeed a person worthy of respect. I believe that someone like her deserves a dignified funeral." "You... you agree?" "Yes, I agree." "Thank you! Thank you so much, truly thank you!" "Now, please tell me what style of funeral your wife would have liked so that I can prepare. Would it be red?" "No, she liked white. She believed white represented purity." "Understood. Your wife's funeral will be arranged for the day after tomorrow—in the evening." "Wonderful, wonderful! Once again, my deepest gratitude to you, great Lord Inquisitor." "That will be all. Goodbye." Karen hung up the phone. *Phew... holding a funeral for an aberrant demon.* Next time he called Uncle Mason, could he proudly tell him: *Your nephew has made something of himself.* *In a foreign land, he has successfully delivered... an industrial upgrade for the family's traditional business.*