Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 27: No Love?

Teest swallowed the chicken in his mouth, looking at Nol with relish.

As the lich picked up the chicken, he immediately closed his eyes and pressed his hands together in a serious and devout manner, not knowing what he was praying for.

Nol was undeniably handsome, but the night made this beauty seem lifeless. Teest liked Nol’s eyes the most; they were full of life. When Nol closed his eyes like this, he looked like a real corpse—cold and distant.

Usually, when someone closed their eyes in front of Teest, they never got the chance to open them again. But he knew Nol could, and this left Teest somewhat perplexed.

As Teest tried to shake off this feeling, Nol suddenly opened his eyes. He took a long breath, and his face showed clear excitement. Caught off guard, Teest mentally shook his head.

“What did you get?” Teest asked.

Picking up another piece of chicken, Nol chewed happily, “‘Bloodline Suppression’. Not bad… The sauce is refreshing, though a bit bitter.”

Nol was truly satisfied. No matter how bitter the sauce, it wasn’t as bitter as the black coffee when working overtime.

Indeed, there were better skills in the dragon’s skill list. Talents like [Anti-Magic], [Dragon Breath], and [Species Morph] were comparable to SSRs*. Having been beaten down by reality for so long, Nol didn’t believe he had the luck to draw a golden card. He was content with getting an SR like [Bloodline Suppression], which wouldn’t be affected by curses.

*Specially Super Rare.

[Bloodline Suppression: As the apex of all creatures, you instill innate fear in other species. Only those with strong wills can resist. ※This is a passive skill and can be toggled on or off.]

He now had [Bloodline Suppression], [Listening], and [Smelling]—all excellent survival skills. He had added 240 to both his physical and magical defenses. Although he was still fragile, he wouldn’t die upon the slightest touch.

If all else failed, he had his “Working Knight”, Teest, and his 8-hour loyalty from [Betrayal Overture], which was exactly a working day.

“From now on, activate ‘Betrayal Overture’ every day at nine in the morning, from nine to five.”

Nol tried to suppress the smile at the corner of his mouth. “Ensuring a 30% attribute boost during the day, extending it only under special circumstances. What do you think?”

Teest: “…Okay.”

He always felt the timing Nol chose was odd. But if the two of them had to exchange a hand-kiss gesture three times a day, it would be even weirder and might draw attention.

“I will still reduce the attributes,” Teest added. “The closer to the big city, the more players. It’s safer to be low-key.”

They both agreed and quickly finished off the long-horned chicken.

Nol tapped the plate with a fork, and the chicken bones neatly scurried away, leaving a clean blue dish.

……

Four days later, the sky was just as clear.

Knight Eugene stood at the entrance of the Evergreen Church with an unusually expressionless face.

In front of the Evergreen Church was a square paved with white stones. Now, there was a conspicuous blot, like a stain on a white handkerchief.

It was the missing Lord Swain.

He was dead, with gold threads all over his body. The sun shone, making them sparkle on his pale skin like exquisite tattoos.

Lord Swain had returned to his human form, wearing a robe and fixed in a slightly bent waist with his arms in an outstretched posture by the golden threads. His face was sewn into a gentle smile. At his feet were lush shrubs, and in front of him were two “children” made of vines and flowers. Their petals were dewy and brilliantly shining in the morning light.

A scene filled with love and compassion.

Naturally, Eugene recognized it. The protector of the orphans, Gilmore the Compassionate, one of the famous devotees in the Book of Life.

The real Mad Monk had come.

After Lord Swain was rescued, Eugene even intensified the guards in Whitebird City. But the Mad Monk had mysteriously managed all this, displaying the body at the entrance of the Evergreen Church. Apart from the panicked crowd, he left nothing behind.

Seeing this, the public would only feel it blasphemous and cruel. But Eugene knew the irony within—just two days ago, the Investigation Knights had discovered a secret passage in the city lord’s office and found piles of children’s skeletons.

…May God forgive these unholy fanatics.

The Investigation Knights mobilized quickly, sealing off the scene. Eugene turned against the flow, his dark green cloak slicing through the air.

Not far in a dark alley, two cloaked figures, one tall and one short, watched everything unfold.

Watching as the city lord’s body was magically concealed, the shorter of the two laughed a few times. “How marvelous! We were right nearby, and yet we didn’t notice.”

His tone remained frivolous, unmistakably the assailant from a few days prior.

“The Mad Monk has been a veteran who hasn’t been caught for over a decade,” the taller one said in a muffled voice.

“Forget it, we didn’t come for him in the first place,” the assailant commented nonchalantly. “The precious artifact is gone, and now we have to explain upon returning. What a hassle.”

The taller one remained silent.

Their plan was simple—with the assistance of the city lord, they intended to offer the corpse of a massive dragon and numerous human lives as sacrifices to awaken the candle, thus creating a portal unique to the Eternal Church. In doing so, the Church would covertly turn Whitebird City into a stronghold for its fanatical followers without anyone noticing.

The teleportation arrays between the major cities were ancient relics, tightly controlled by various nations. Temples monitored them closely, requiring strict registration for those entering or exiting. Long-distance teleportation magic existed only in legends, with only a few ancient artifacts having such capabilities.

After all, according to the teachings of the church, “transcending space” was stepping into the realm of the gods.

The candle was essentially a movable portal; its importance was self-explanatory. Yet his companion merely found it “troublesome to explain if lost”.

…It was somewhat understandable, the taller one thought. After all, they weren’t truly loyal to the Eternal Church.

“What’s your plan, Crimson?” the taller one asked.

“What else can I do but chase down that candle,” Crimson, the assailant, replied. “The two individuals were rather interesting. I’ve never been bested quite like that before.”

Saying this, he took off his hood and gestured to a passing young man in the alley.

“Hey there, run an errand for me?” Crimson said with a warm and friendly smile. “We’re waiting for someone and can’t leave. Could you buy us two bottles of wine? I’ll give you five silver hooks for your trouble.”

It was broad daylight, and the young man readily entered the deeper alley. In the next instant, a cold glint passed across his throat.

Blood sprayed instantly, covering the walls. The youth died in mere seconds, collapsing into the growing puddle. Crimson slashed his own palm and let his blood mix with the pool.

“I offer a life in exchange. Show me the whereabouts of the foe who drew my blood,” he commanded in a tone akin to placing an order.

From the blood arose a gaunt, deep-red humanoid figure, no taller than an adult’s calf, with an indistinct face. The blood gnome pointed south.

The young man’s body slowly sank into the pool of blood, and the stone slabs beneath the blood seemed to turn into a marsh. When the blood gnome dissolved back into the liquid, the corpse completely disappeared without a trace.

“Towards Grape Collar. Both the Alva and Rizzi merchant groups went in that direction,” the taller one said solemnly. “Shall we draw lots?”

“I’ll follow Alva, you tail Rizzi. The mercenaries Alva hired are more vigilant; you might get exposed.” Crimson shrugged. “Once we find the whereabouts of those two, we’ll regroup.”

The taller one grunted, sounding somewhat dissatisfied, but he didn’t comment.

Crimson clapped his hands, and flames arose, burning away the pool of blood, leaving only charred marks behind.

The brief firelight illuminated Crimson’s deep red hair and similarly colored eyes. He was fairly good-looking, but there was an unsettling, manic energy about him that made him unlikable. He wore a golden earring in his left ear, engraved with the insignia of “World of Tahe”.

The gold had a faded red hue, as though it were stained with blood, much like the stubborn bloodstains on Bluebeard’s key*.

*Reference to Bluebeard, a French folktale. He has a room where he keeps all his murdered wives’ corpses. You can read the story in the Wikipedia.

Having dealt with the body, Crimson put his hood back on, and the two delved deeper into the dark alley.

“You have to admit, you’re no match for the Mad Monk,” the taller one suddenly remarked, sounding a bit aggressive. “The Temple has no clue about him, while you, like a dog, fled to our country and nearly got caught by law enforcement.”

“But I hunt strong men, while you only dare strangle girls,” Crimson retorted lightly. “Honestly, ‘Jack’ is a terrible ID. Mr. Liang, you should’ve been more thoughtful when picking your name… or were you paying tribute to that Jack the Ripper*, who also specialized in killing women?”

*Unidentified serial killer in London England in 1888 who murdered a series of women (mainly prostitutes).

“I have a preference for women. That’s normal. You and the Mad Monk are just religious fanatics,” Jack, the taller one, said with increasing irritation.

“Alright, let’s talk about the Mad Monk. He’s not of my kind. Even though his work is also god-themed, his results lack love.”

“Love? I see it as hatred,” Jack scoffed.

“No, no, you don’t understand. When the subject is a god, hatred is also a form of love.”

Crimson’s tone was somewhat fanatical, like discussing a familiar academic issue. “The Mad Monk is different. He’s mad, true, but he’s an arrogant and calm madman. I don’t think he cares about gods… Um, his works mislead more than they blaspheme.”

There was a silence that lasted for about ten seconds, then Crimson suddenly stopped.

“I need to correct one detail,” he suddenly said. “There’s a little bit of love in the Mad Monk’s work. The smile on the corpse—it’s different.”

The tall man, Jack, couldn’t be bothered to engage. “Change the subject. I’m tired of your melodrama.”

“Don’t underestimate the will of the gods, my friend. Think about how we got here—I, a foreign tourist, can understand, but you, a fugitive, being invited to test the game? In the end, you make up for my only shortcoming.”

“I’m not your tool,” Jack said in a deep voice.

“Who knows?”

……

Nol hummed a cheerful tune.

He and Teest were sitting in a carriage from the Rizzi Caravan. Apart from sacks full of potatoes, carrots, and onions, it was just the two of them. The sacks piled up high, leaving a frighteningly narrow space. But this couldn’t dampen Nol’s mood—

With Lynn’s collaboration, the dragon-skin notebook was perfectly upgraded. The cover of “The Complete Recipe Book” had been meticulously remade and integrated completely with the notebook, giving it a perfect aged look.

Its cover was now made of black magic-absorbing cloth, with “The Complete Recipe Book” and decorative patterns embroidered with ancient silver thread, excellent for guiding magic, with a witch’s magic circle hidden within.

The pages of the notebook became smooth and white, and a discreet emblem was added to the spine—a prototype emblem made with color-changing thread, currently displaying a distorted “68%”, reminiscent of a phone’s battery display.

When Nol wasn’t using it, the notebook could charge itself. The change in magic during use was also intuitive, so there was no need to worry about over-draining and damaging the item.

The item’s description had also changed—

[The Complete Recipe Book: A book of questionable material. Be careful. What’s recorded inside is definitely not recipes. As long as you don’t overuse it, it’s always ready to serve you.]

“You seem happy?” Teest crossed his arms, yawning, his body slightly swaying with the bumps of the merchant’s carriage.

“Of course I am. This is my external skill slot,” Nol said, hugging The Complete Recipe Book as if wanting to kiss it.

Last night, both had stayed up. Teest went out to set up the corpse, while Nol eagerly made modifications to the new notebook—

He had rewritten [Necromancy], and now it could summon intermediate undead creatures. High-level undead creatures mostly had higher intelligence. The summoning rules were incredibly complex, and Nol was still researching. After all, to manually recreate the program’s intricate judgments and massive calculations, he needed a lot of time.

Furthermore, Nol added [Death Intimidation], in conjunction with [Bloodline Suppression]. If the dragon’s [Bloodline Suppression] successfully induced fear in the target, [Death Intimidation] would activate on its own, applying a 5-second rigidity status to the target.

[Necromancy] [Hide in the Shadows] [Death Intimidation]… This notebook was becoming more and more like a necromancer’s tool.

Surprisingly, when he directly rewrote and created his own magic, the system had no reaction. Apparently, it only cared if anyone changed the system’s original magic.

Nol decided to only write original spells in the book to guard against possible prying from the system.

Of course, he didn’t tell Teest that these skills were original creations, and Teest didn’t ask. They had an excellent unspoken understanding on the “don’t ask about each other’s abilities” front.

Teest’s gaze lingered on The Complete Recipe Book for a moment, then shifted to the cloth bag next to Nol’s leg.

Before leaving, Nol claimed to repay the “dragon-skin notebook debt”, giving almost all the rewards to Teest. With the remaining change, he bought a coarse cloth shoulder bag filled with blood ink, cheap quill pens, and parchment, plus two history books.

The only thing out of place in that bag was a doll’s head the size of a chicken egg. Its face and hair were carved from wood and painted brightly. This thing had a movable mouth with a serious expression, looking like a cheap souvenir from travels.

Witch Lynn said it was a special item; they could communicate with her through it.

In reality, mostly Nol communicated with her using it. Teest didn’t even bother reading its item description. Teest could see that the witch was very wary of him, even a bit disgusted. It was evident that his Mr. Mage status, even among otherworldly people, wasn’t ordinary.

At the moment, Nol was looking at the notebook with satisfaction, as if it had bloomed with flowers only visible to a lich.

He was wearing the simple robe Teest bought for him, with his bag half-hugged to his chest, sitting very upright… just like an ordinary magic apprentice.

The front of the carriage echoed with the clip-clop of horse hooves, while the white cloth covering the carriage was occasionally puffed up by the wind. From this angle, all Teest could see was the world constantly receding. Bored, he decided to find amusement.

“You said before that you wanted me to take you back home. That was a lie, wasn’t it?” Teest broke the silence.

“Huh? Yes.” Nol admitted readily, still engrossed in “The Complete Recipe Book”. “Don’t worry, our destination hasn’t changed. I said, I know how to break the engagement—as long as I confirm that you’re a decent person, you can get rid of me.”

‘A decent person,’ Teest mulled over the phrase. Perhaps Nol was even crazier than him if he thought that Teest, the Mad Monk, could earn such a description.

Then again, only he suffered from “God’s Forsaken”. If they really separated, Nol could still team up with others. What would this lich do in the future? Marry and divorce other players crazily?

But Nol might be fine on his own. He was clever, and despite the dire curse upon him, he had found a preliminary solution…

What would happen to this lich if they separated? It was an intriguing question, and Teest found he couldn’t answer.

“Aren’t you afraid I’m just pretending to be good?” Teest asked casually. “You can’t really know someone’s nature.”

“Then consider me blind,” Nol said decisively. “I’m no superhero. I try my best, and that’s enough—I still have many peers to find and puzzles to solve. I can’t be concerned with world peace.”

“What if I want to keep you longer, intentionally harming the innocent?” Teest, supporting a shaky bag of onions, questioned again. “You’re an interesting companion; maybe I don’t want to part too soon.”

Nol finally looked up, meeting Teest’s eyes. Even in daylight, Nol’s irises shimmered with a hazy glow, the color reminiscent of the wings of a blue morpho butterfly. Beautiful, but not very human-like.

Nol, seemingly oblivious to Teest’s distraction, grew serious. “If you don’t want to part, just say so. We can discuss it. It’s that simple.”

“But in any case, our destination won’t change—maintaining a teammate relationship can only be ‘our choice’, not ‘a compulsion’.”

“You see, this is where you’re so naive,” Teest murmured. “‘Choice’ is a luxury, honey.”

“After all this talk, I feel like you’re subtly saying, ‘I want to keep teaming up’,” Nol mused.

Teest smiled. “What can I say? My curiosity knows no bounds.”

Nol put down the book, sighing deeply. “Then you’re in for a treat. I don’t even understand myself.”

‘Ain’t that the truth,’ Teest thought.

Take the night before as an example—Nol went to the witch’s place to get the amended notebook, and they stayed at her cabin overnight. In the middle of the night, Teest felt a sudden lightness beside him and woke up almost instantly.

Then he heard the door open.

He turned over and saw Nol standing at the entrance. Liches didn’t need much sleep, so perhaps Nol woke up and decided to get some fresh air.

Ten minutes passed, then an hour, two hours… Nol stood there, head down, unmoving. Like a statue or a particularly eerie scarecrow.

‘Strange,’ Teest thought. ‘Didn’t Nol despise the moon?’

Only when the morning sun neared the horizon did Nol return to bed as if nothing had happened. During their stay in Whitebird City, Teest had never seen such behavior.

“What happened last night?” Teest asked directly the next morning.

“What do you mean? I slept well and didn’t even dream,” Nol responded, puzzled.

So Teest didn’t press further. But when leaving the cabin, he took a longer glance at the doorstep.

Ordinary stones, moss, wooden frame. If there was anything unique, it was the stain of blood—when Hannah held Margaret, seeking help, she bled a lot at the doorway. The witch had cleaned it, but a faint red mark remained.

…It didn’t make sense.

After that incident, Nol showed no more anomalies, and Teest didn’t feel it was his place to probe deeper.

But his curiosity only grew.

Staying by Nol’s side seemed fine. Since Nol had obtained the Eternal Church’s candle, Teest wasn’t worried about a shortage of prey coming their way.

……

As the sun set, the carriage halted. It was time for dinner.

Skinning, cutting, deboning—all specialties of the Mad Monk. The lamb meat was fresh, and with a little salt, it was palatable. Teest’s cooking speed was four or five times faster than other cooks. Nol couldn’t help with the cooking, so his main role was to serve the meat and ladle out the soup.

“Not bad, quite efficient,” a cheerful voice remarked.

Nol looked up and saw a middle-aged man dressed in a fine silk robe. He was tall and sturdy, with a long face. His bright red hair shone like flames, and numerous freckles dotted the sides of his hawk-like nose.

“I’m the owner of this caravan, Levis Rizzi,” the man introduced himself amicably. “I’m glad to have two hard working young men like you onboard. Put in good work, and your diligence will be rewarded.”

Nol wasn’t paying any attention to his words. He stared intently at Levis’ face, swallowing nervously. Even Teest paused his actions, eyeing Mr. Rizzi intently.

He looked so familiar, strikingly similar to the female version of Mrs. Petty.

…I’m not Petty! I’m Rebecca! Rebecca from Whitebird City!

…My father’s a merchant. He’s rich; he’ll hire people to deal with you!

It was a memory from when they had just escaped the novice village. The shrill, fearful screams of the woman still echoed piercingly from their memories.

“I’m sorry,” Nol murmured. “Sir, I have a rather abrupt question.”

Mr. Rizzi laughed. “Don’t be so tense; just ask.”

“Do…do you know ‘Rebecca’?” Nol cautiously inquired.

Mr. Rizzi was taken aback.

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The author has something to say:

Teest: Friend, you aren’t afraid of me. Is it because you’re also pretty terrifying?

Nol: (innocent)

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For now, both of them have an 8-hour mutual buff, a standard 9-to-5. When Teest becomes a knight in the true sense, won’t it be equivalent to working 24/7… The “Betrayal Overture” probably refers to betraying the working class!

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