Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 124
Eugene stood on a spacious riverbank. Behind him was a sunshade pieced together from various colored fabrics, which only provided enough shade to barely cover a large piece of wooden door placed underneath it.
This light green door was provided by Jason’s cousin, who worked cleaning river debris and called himself a prospector, believing that there was no such thing as true garbage in the world—even corpses drifting down the river could be carrying silver coins in their coat pockets. He generously offered this door, one of the perks of his job, upon hearing Jason needed it.
The door had weathered long exposure to sun and wind. The green paint was now quite old. Eugene dipped his finger in water and traced a few letters on it, which Jason, sitting cross-legged in front, copied onto the ground.
Although everyone tried hard, they weren’t kids who could afford to spend a whole day studying in a study room without worrying about food and survival. Eugene had been teaching for several days, and Jason, who showed up reliably every day, was really the only consistent student. He had a strong ability to learn, having already memorized fifty digits and how to write his own name, and was now learning the names of the largest ships at the port.
His dedication to learning was impeccable, but it was extremely difficult to study in peace on Paradise Island. So far, no class had ever gone smoothly from start to finish. Eugene had gotten used to interruptions, like when a burly man clumsily copying letters would suddenly jump up shouting that something had happened—then everyone would thunderously run off, leaving him standing alone and puzzled.
Today was more of the same, and after the commotion settled, most of those “students” busied themselves elsewhere. Only Jason remembered Eugene and came back to continue copying the letters.
The frequent disruptions usually involved some trouble at the docks, someone being upset over docked wages and rashly trying to fight the boss, or the island’s factions clashing violently, often resulting in injuries.
It was precisely because of this that Eugene gradually realized that Paradise Island wasn’t united. It was clearly delineated from the inner city and internally fragmented into several groups: the guilds first made their fortunes through various crafts and successfully monopolized the market, and although the guild bosses were still seen as dirty and unfit for the inner city tables, they were indeed successful people on Paradise Island, involved in every sector such as laundries, bakeries, and oil refineries. The low-end goods produced might not make it into the boutique stores on the main streets of the inner city, but they supported half of Paradise Island. Then there were the brotherhoods led by Jason, not wealthy but mostly composed of physical laborers, strong and good with their fists. Lastly was the church faction—comprising the most diverse and numerous group, worshiping a god Eugene had never heard of.
Conflicts typically arose between the guilds and the brotherhoods, both sides hot-tempered, with verbal disputes and physical fights nearly every day. Most times, these could be quickly defused, but Eugene had witnessed a riot get out of control once. It was a terrifying scene, like a herd of wild bison stampeding across the plains, leaving ruins in their wake and affecting many innocents. Afterwards, Jason gave Eugene a day off because there were too many dead and injured to manage the aftermath.
Eugene noted that after every conflict, the church faction’s numbers seemed to grow a bit—often because someone would take the opportunity to preach, promoting their doctrine of inner peace, and those heartbroken by the violence would reach out and join their faith.
But neither the guilds nor the brotherhoods believed in them.
Especially Jason, who openly told Eugene in his presence that their leader, Aquinas, was nothing but a lazy fraud.
“That guy isn’t from Paradise Island. He came from the inner city ten years ago. He probably lost all his money at the gambling table and couldn’t even afford a ticket home, so he ended up swindling food and drink on Paradise Island,” he said with frustration. “And yet so many people fall for his act, becoming his followers and donating the money they earn to him. He must have tasted the benefits and decided to stick around. I’ve thought about driving him out, but he has too many followers. It would be mutually destructive to start a fight.”
“What god do they believe in?” Eugene asked, feigning curiosity.
“The God of Judgment,” Jason said. “I won’t say the name.”
Even though he didn’t believe in Aquinas, ordinary people still instinctively feared gods, and even if he was 70% sure that the god Aquinas spoke of was a fabrication, he still dared not speak its name directly.
Aquinas had crafted a narrative, claiming that the God of Judgment oversees justice and will punish the wicked and compensate the wronged in the afterlife. This part didn’t sound incorrect, but he used his supposed ability to communicate with the afterlife as an excuse to collect many offerings from his followers, claiming he was merely the custodian of these assets, which would be returned to their owners in the next life by his hand.
“There are no gods on Paradise Island,” Jason said. “Gods exist in the grand churches outside, in the religious texts of the wealthy, not in the impoverished and downtrodden Paradise Island. If there are any miracles here, they would only be those of a malevolent false god…”
He paused suddenly, looking at Eugene.
“You come from outside, well-traveled,” he said quietly.
Eugene felt this praise was much better than being called well-read. In the presence of the rabbit-headed shopkeeper and the Duke, who were like walking libraries, even a university professor wouldn’t dare claim extensive knowledge. Jason’s commendations of his “learning” often made him blush.
He coughed, suppressing his pride, and said as nonchalantly as possible, “It’s okay. I’ve just traveled more places than most.”
Jason asked, “Aside from true gods, how much do you know about evil gods?”
Eugene thought for a moment. “Are you referring to the God of Judgment that Aquinas talked about? I haven’t heard of such an entity, but there are similar ones, like the Goddess of Justice, Florentina, whose statues are usually placed in royal squares or in front of council halls—she’s a true god.”
“No, I’m not talking about the stories made up by Aquinas.” Jason hesitated, then looked around.
The area was quite deserted, and the usual kids who scurried everywhere were kept at home by their mothers due to frequent fights, so none were in sight.
“What does a seductive evil god usually look like?” he asked.
Eugene was puzzled.
Jason scratched his head, struggling to find a tactful way to express his thoughts. “I mean… the kind of demons that deceive humans and steal souls. What do they look like in books?”
“Demons? They come in various forms.” Eugene was uncertain. “The most common depiction is that of a beautiful woman, the kind that bewitches men at a glance, making them willing to gouge out their hearts for her, or the deceitful and malicious satyr—”
Jason immediately perked up. “Satyr?”
“Upper body of a man, lower body of a goat, or they might look completely human but have a handsome face with goat horns on their head,” Eugene nodded.
“Only goats? What about other animals? Is it possible? Are all demonic gods half-beast?” Jason asked eagerly. “Dressed in human clothes, speaking in riddles that are hard to understand, claiming they can fulfill all your wishes?”
Eugene was increasingly confused by his questions. “Usually, it’s goats… I think?”
Jason seemed disappointed. “Are you sure?”
Eugene looked at him bewilderingly. “Why do you ask?”
Seeing that Eugene genuinely didn’t know, Jason sat back down and waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind, I was just asking.”
Eugene’s expression grew even stranger. Jason’s detailed descriptions of clothing and speech styles sounded almost as if he had witnessed such beings himself, hardly the attitude of someone “just asking”.
No matter how curious Eugene was, Jason wasn’t willing to say more, and he didn’t want to casually tell people, “I think I’ve encountered an evil spirit.”
It should be known that Jason’s status as leader of the brotherhood wasn’t just because he was good at fighting and loyal. A significant reason was his lack of belief, and he had remained firm in this, never swayed by Aquinas’s threats or temptations, a fact known by everyone on Paradise Island.
If Jason suddenly confessed in panic to someone, “I think I’ve met a demon, and it tried to tempt me!”, his credibility would surely be shaken… With the auction approaching—a major and tumultuous event in White Bridge—it was best not to stir up extra trouble.
Considering this, he advised Eugene, “It’s best not to wander around these days. Although you seem relatively safe, it’s still good to be cautious.”
Eugene was puzzled. “What do you mean?”
Jason gave him a strange look. “Aren’t you a tourist from the inner city? Don’t you know the auction is about to start?”
“Of course, I know—aren’t the auctions held in the inner city? What do you mean by I look relatively safe?” Eugene was confused again.
“You’re now on Paradise Island,” Jason explained patiently. “Every auction, the inner city needs manpower, a lot of manpower. They select people from Paradise Island.”
“So?” Eugene sensed he might not like what Jason was about to say next.
“So young and attractive kids are easily taken away, as are those with special talents,” Jason stated bluntly. “Your age and appearance aren’t issues, but educated people are rare here. If you don’t want to be selected and taken away, you’d better keep a low profile.”
Eugene considered this. “The compensation in the inner city should be higher.” For someone wanting to leave here, it could be a great opportunity.
“What do you think being taken away means?” Jason looked at him with pity. “To become their contracted, salaried employee? Even a five-year-old wouldn’t be so naïve. Let me tell you—what happens to those taken away at this time is unimaginable. If someone demands you kneel to catch their spit, no one will help you. They’ll only critique whether your kneeling posture is graceful enough.”
Eugene got goosebumps from his words. “The Wolf—I mean, how do you know they’re so twisted?”
“Because our brothers and sisters, our fathers and mothers have been taken away,” Jason said. “Some are thrown back like leftover fish bones to the trash heap—that is, Paradise Island—at the end of the seventh-day auction, and others just disappear.”
“One of them was my brother, Jim,” Jason continued. “He’s part of those who never came back. I’d give anything to pray to God for his safety, but God has never looked after Paradise Island.”
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