Wayne gagged twice, though nothing came up. Wiping the spittle from his mouth with his sleeve, his disgust toward the Church of the Earth's Core reached its peak.
Morals and grand causes aside, from this day forth, he, Wayne, and the Lord of the Void were mortal enemies!
Wayne wished he could set the tentacles ablaze right this instant, but with Isabella yet unrescued, he didn't dare act rashly.
He guessed the main body of the tentacles was the so-called King of the Underworld. Judging by the sheer size of the tentacles snaking in from parts unknown, the King of the Underworld had to be colossal—matching the intelligence he had gathered earlier.
The King of the Underworld.
The entrance to the underground tunnel.
Both being at the chicken farm was no coincidence.
The chicken farm, the church headquarters, and the administration hall aligning in a straight line was obviously premeditated...
"Isabella was right. If even Windsor's intelligence agency could tell there was something wrong with the Church of the Earth's Core, it means the church has been rotten for a long time."
Wayne gritted his teeth. The egg-laying tentacles meant the King of the Underworld was right beneath the chicken farm. If that massive monstrosity ever stirred, the entire town would face utter doom.
The strength of the Church of the Earth's Core's mages remained unknown. He had to rescue Isabella—she was the only one who could handle the church.
...
The entrance to the subterranean tunnels lay at the back of the chicken farm. Compared to the labyrinthine terrain underground, the entrance on the surface was unremarkable.
A hastily erected large warehouse concealed the chasm, guarded by four cultists who immediately moved to intercept anyone who approached.
Wayne noticed holsters at their lower backs. With time running out and no better option, he could only bite the bullet and go for it.
"You, halt. It's not nightfall yet. You can't go in."
"I know, but there's been a change in plans. Our people were attacked. I'm here under the bishop's orders to interrogate the prisoners. I have to get the whereabouts of their accomplices out of them, or I won't be able to answer to the bishop."
Wayne glared coldly at him. "You—open the door and lead the way."
"But... the bishop's orders were that no one is allowed inside. I really can't let you in..."
The guard looked embarrassed. Wayne's forceful demeanor made him second-guess himself. Someone this arrogant was clearly a trusted subordinate of the bishop.
Besides, Wayne carried the bishop's orders. If his obstinate refusal harmed the church's interests, would the bishop punish him?
As the guard's resolve weakened, Wayne instantly became even more aggressive. Grabbing the guard by the collar with a murderous glare, he snarled, "Insolent fool! If we didn't both revere the Lord of the Void with all our hearts, I'd report you to the bishop right now and have you sacrificed to the King of the Underworld tonight! Open the door at once—you can't shoulder the blame for this!"
Wayne's harsh, domineering attitude crushed the guard's doubts. Not daring to object any further, the guard waved for his companions to open the warehouse doors and took the lead himself, hoping to appease Wayne's anger.
That was how life went for underlings: aiming not for merit, but merely to avoid mistakes.
In a word: tough.
The underground tunnels were far more labyrinthine than Wayne had imagined, branching in every direction. At first glance, one might think they had walked into a mine shaft.
Electric cables ran along the passages, providing lighting, and armed cultists stood guard at every intersection.
A few minutes later, the guard knocked on a wooden door ahead. A secret passage swung open, and boundless darkness rushed out to swallow Wayne.
He stood at the edge of a precipice. Below lay a bottomless black abyss, where some titanic beast seemed to lurk in the dark. Whenever howling gusts surged, vast clusters of blue specks of light flickered in and out of view.
The lights were not only down in the abyss; they crawled across the cliff walls as well. Wayne scanned the area briefly and caught faint glimpses of tentacles slithering across the rock.
The King of the Underworld was even larger than he had imagined—far more than eight tentacles. Compared to the starfish creature in the administration hall, it was practically the ancestral progenitor.
A plank walkway had been built along the edge of the cliff, thoughtfully equipped with guardrails to keep cultists from accidentally slipping into the abyss.
Wayne mentally gave the construction crew a thumbs-up and quickened his pace behind the guard.
The walkway stretched for about five hundred meters before curving toward a hollowed-out cavern wall. Beyond lay a massive underground plaza, heavily guarded and even more strictly defended than the church headquarters.
If not for a familiar face leading him, Wayne never would have made it inside.
In the center of the underground plaza was a circular pool. Fist-sized stones were stacked into a pyramid, atop which sat a golden idol.
The statue was small, barely a dozen centimeters tall, but reflected the light with a radiance that made one's breath hitch.
Dazzling, and unmistakably solid gold.
Wayne peered closely, but the glare made it hard to discern its true features; he could only make out a twisted humanoid figure draped in tentacles.
"Lord of the Void, permit this humble, insignificant believer to offer You my most sincere praises..." The guard bowed deeply from a distance toward the idol.
Wayne hurried to follow suit, imitating him and offering humble hymns of praise as well.
The moment the words left his lips, Wayne seemed to sense a response from the idol. A murmur echoed in his ears—bizarre, sinister, holy, and pure, a discordant medley of voices that plunged any listener into a daze.
Bad news: Sanity plummeted.
Good news: Wayne's foundations were robust. It dropped, but it might as well not have.
Once again: having survived the ravages behind the Gate of Truth, ordinary psychic corruption could hardly shake his resolve.
The guard was clearly corrupted, as evidenced by his expression; his devotion to the Lord of the Void was both reverent and crazed. Wayne joined in by contorting his face, pulling a crooked grin, twitching half his cheek, and letting his eyelids flutter wildly.
Acting chops like that spoke of at least a decade of cerebral thrombosis.
Wayne looked so genuinely afflicted that he aroused not the slightest suspicion. Following the guard to the east side of the plaza, they entered another secret door.
This time, there were no twists and turns; at the end of the corridor was a dim holding cell.
Two cultists stood guard at the prison. Learning that Wayne had been sent by the bishop to interrogate prisoners, they let him through without hesitation.
The security was lax, which was only human nature—a matter of subconscious assumptions. If someone had made it all the way down here, there was no reason to suspect an intruder; they had to be one of their own.
Wayne walked into the prison holding a candle. There weren't many prisoners, only about a dozen, each furnished with a wooden post and hemp rope, neatly lined up in a row.
Wayne ignored the unfamiliar faces, but two of them took him completely by surprise.
Hood!
Wesley!
Heads tilted, both were muttering under their breath. Like the other prisoners, psychic corruption had left them semi-delirious.
You two aren't dead yet?
Wayne was amazed at how tough they were. Truly, good things happened to good people—judging by their successful survival, he was bound to be showered with blessings in the future.
However...
Isabella was nowhere to be seen. All the prisoners were male, and none possessed an impressive heavyweight tonnage.
"Ahem!"
Wayne coughed into his fist and turned to the guard beside him. "What's going on here? Where are the female prisoners? Where are they locked up?"
The guard smiled knowingly. "You're too late, sir. The female prisoners have already been taken care of, saved for tonight's sacrifice to the King of the Underworld. We haven't secured any fresh inventory yet."
Right then, you little punk, you've just courted death!
"Nonsense! Who asked you about that? Am I that kind of person?"
Wayne narrowed his eyes, mentally adding the guard to his kill list, and said coldly, "I'm talking about the intruder from two days ago. A very fat woman. You wouldn't be desperate enough to touch her too, would you?"
"Could you be mistaken, sir? No fat woman broke in two days ago. The only intruder was him."
The guard pointed at Hood. "He's the only one we caught. His name is Hood, a detective from Enrold Town. The old bastard was quite good at hiding; he almost slipped away."
Wayne froze. The one caught two days ago was Hood? Then... where was Isabella?
He found it hard to believe. If—hypothetically speaking—Isabella hadn't been captured at all, then what on earth had he been busting his neck for, scouting and infiltrating like this?
Xifei's words echoed in his ears: Isabella was an experienced mage; if she had remained out of contact, she must have discovered something and was lying in wait for the perfect chance to strike a fatal blow.
"You really didn't catch a fat woman?" Wayne slapped his forehead, trying to salvage the situation.
Please, by all means, tell him she was caught—not only caught, but already taken care of by you boys.
"None at all," the guard said, shaking his head with certainty. Then he added, "Or perhaps there is, but she would be an important prisoner known only to the bishops. I wouldn't have clearance to know, and she certainly wouldn't be kept here. These ones are just tonight's sacrifices."
Wayne nodded. Just as he was pondering how to get the prisoners out safely, the wooden door opened, and a voice drifted in:
"As for that fat woman, perhaps I can give you an answer!"
The speaker was a middle-aged man clad in a burlap robe, heavily built and speaking with powerful resonance. A hood concealed his features, but the flickering candlelight reflected off two rows of teeth, stark white and chilling.
His lips curved up in a half-smile, as if commending Wayne for managing to find his way here—or, more likely, mocking him for walking straight into the trap.
Wayne's heart skipped a beat as danger prickled his senses.
"Bishop Sean," the guard greeted with a bow, bending deeply with utmost deference.
Wayne followed suit, trying to blend in.
The Church of the Earth's Core had four bishops and one archbishop, the five of them comprising the church's highest echelon of power. In Wayne's estimation, they were all powerful mages. To be cornered in their underground lair by one of them out of the blue...
Wayne's heart sank to rock bottom. He calculated the odds of embedding the man into an earthen wall.
Not very likely.
Fusing with the Book of Greed to transform...
Wayne reached for the handgun tucked into the small of his back—a defensive magical item borrowed from his maid. With this sacred relic of the Church of Science in hand, he felt somewhat more assured.
Within seven paces, the advantage was his!
Chapter 45