Chapter 71

Chapter 71: Gathering in the Gutters

The moment Duncan took out the Sun charm amulet, a few seconds of silence fell over the group. His plain words “I’m one of you” drifted through the air, and they led to more than a dozen surprised and cautious glances being traded back and forth. Then the tall, thin man who looked like a small leader suddenly lowered his voice and said quickly: “Put that away! Watch out for Church spies nearby!”

So the charm amulet really worked? Was this thing really so convincing among Suntists?

Duncan was amused, but on the surface he kept his blank, mysterious posture with half his face hidden by his collar. He put the charm amulet away and said calmly: “If there really are Church spies nearby, your big group gathering here is much more eye-catching than my charm amulet.”

As soon as he finished, a scruffy, unshaven man blurted out: “No way. Us gathering at most will bring the constables over and get us charged for disturbing public order…”

“Shut up!” The tall, thin leader stopped his underling’s nonsense at once. Then his gaze fell on Duncan. “This is necessary caution. After all, the city isn’t very safe right now. Walk over here, and don’t make any extra moves.”

Duncan walked toward them calmly. The other man looked him up and down carefully. After staring at him for a long time, the tall, thin man finally asked in a low voice: “Are you a believer who lives in this city?”

Duncan thought for a moment and nodded: “Yes.”

The original master of this body had indeed lived in the city, and Duncan lived here now as well. On questions this obvious, he decided to tell the truth.

His plan was simple. He would find a way to blend into this group of cultists, then see what information he could pick up. If he did not get exposed, he would listen and ask more. If he did get exposed, he would have AI transform and deal with all of them.

The tall, thin man had no idea what dangerous thoughts this “Church brother” in front of him was turning over in his mind. He went on and asked: “As far as I know, the Deep Sea Church attacked a few days ago…”

“The assembly hall in the sewers,” Duncan said without the slightest burden, cutting in smoothly. “A Sun rite was going on there at the time. The ritual went out of control, and we lost many people—but I escaped.” While he spoke, he watched the reactions of the Suntists around him. He could feel the tension in their bodies clearly loosen. Only the tall, thin little leader in front of him still stayed cautious. “Three others escaped with me, but we got separated. Now I’ve completely lost contact with the Church—until I met you. The Sun gave me guidance.”

The tall, thin man only grunted, neither agreeing nor denying it. Then his gaze fell on Duncan’s shoulder: “What is that?”

“My pet,” Duncan said casually. “Can’t you tell? Just an ordinary pigeon.”

AI shook her head at just the right time and let out a loud “coo.”

“This pigeon is loud…” The tall, thin man finally seemed to relax. Deep down, he probably also felt that those rule-bound Church people would never have the habit of running all over the city with a bird on their shoulder. He nodded and said: “Come with me. It’s not safe to talk outside.”

Duncan let out a breath in his heart. It seemed that the first step of his plan to fish in troubled waters had worked.

Then he followed the group of cultists as they walked deeper into the alley.

The alley was deeper than he had thought. It seemed to lead into the most forgotten, darkest core of this rundown district. The group of cultists led Duncan through turn after turn, past old pipes that constantly vented steam, across narrow lanes where sewage flowed, and finally into a cluster of low, shabby buildings. The deeper they went, the more the dark and broken side of this prosperous steam metropolis revealed itself before Duncan.

He had thought that the place where he and Nina lived was already part of the city’s lowest neighborhoods. Now he suddenly realized that their shabby antique shop was actually one of the more “respectable” spots in the Lower City.

Most of the run-down houses along the road looked lifeless, as if they had been abandoned for a long time. But in the shadows of a few houses, Duncan seemed to feel a numb or gloomy divine gaze, as if homeless people hid in this forgotten district and watched the intruders coldly.

In the end, those chilling gazes quickly pulled back. The dozen or so people led by the tall, thin man were clearly enough to make the squatters here feel afraid.

“See this? This is the most prosperous city-state on the Boundless Sea, Pland,” the man in black who had first caught Duncan’s attention muttered. It sounded like he was talking to himself, yet also as if he was speaking to Duncan. “It’s the same everywhere. Lunsa is like this, Cold Harbor is like this. Even that place the elves call the ‘land of peace and justice,’ Lightwind Harbor, is like this… They claim that so-called ‘Sun’ shines fairly on the world and brings light and order to all things, but how much sunlight ever reaches these gutters?”

Duncan did not answer. He only looked up.

Above the low, shabby buildings, steam and fuel pipes from the Upper City and the industrial districts crisscrossed the sky. Huge valves and pressure assemblies sprawled like strange beasts over the rooftops. sunlight leaked through gaps between the pipes and fell on the sewage between the buildings, bringing out an even stronger stench.

Most of that sewage came from leaking pipes nearby, formed from condensed steam. As the city ran day after day, chemicals from the factories mixed into it, and it piled up in the Lower City.

Duncan did not need to live in the city long. One look was enough for him to guess how this kind of “urban abscess” had formed.

He quietly glanced at the angry man in black. His expression stayed calm.

Whether they were bewitched by the Sun’s spawn or driven by their harsh lives, these cultists did have their reasons for becoming what they were. But so what?

These cultists, who believed the city-state had forced them to live in the gutters, still came down to the Lower City to grab helpless poor people as living sacrifices. The countless ragged people in that cave had not included a single respectable person from the Upper City.

As a “foreigner” who still did not understand this world well, Duncan felt he had no need to judge this city-state too much. But at least as a former sacrificial victim, he felt these cultists really were scum.

In silence, he finally reached the cultists’ base.

The base was under an abandoned factory.

These cultists who crawled through gutters always seemed able to find a suitable one and turn it into their gathering spot. Or maybe this prosperous steam metropolis simply had countless gutters, perfect for breeding dark and blasphemous things.

They climbed over the half-collapsed factory yard wall and opened an iron door leading down into the underground structures. Duncan had wanted to take a good look at the factory itself to satisfy his curiosity about this “age of steam,” but he never got the chance. They led him straight down a slanted stairway and into the cultists’ “secret base.”

This place might once have been the factory’s warehouse, or maybe a machinery room, but it had clearly been emptied out. In the large space, only the remaining pipe system on the ceiling and dead gas lamps on the walls remained. Darkness was dangerous, and even cultists knew that, so they had lit oil lamps fueled by whale oil all over the underground. In the light of many oil lamps, Duncan saw more than a dozen cultists gathered here.

After the Church had destroyed one sacrificial site so badly, there were still so many Sun believers gathered here? Where had all these cultists come from? Were they like mushrooms and moss, springing up on their own wherever there was a gutter?

Duncan stared in surprise at the figures gathered in the wide basement, and the cultists watched him with the same mix of curiosity and wariness. The tall, thin man walked over again, with several strong, burly cultists following close behind to stand around Duncan.

Duncan frowned and said: “What, you still have to search me again after I come in? I didn’t know there was such a rule.”

“If you really were a Church spy, a body search wouldn’t help,” the tall, thin man said. He took a strip of cloth from his coat and handed it to Duncan. “Relax. This is just a stricter test, only necessary caution. We’ve lost many comrades over the years for all kinds of reasons. Hold this, then repeat after me.”

Duncan glanced at what he was given. It was a filthy strip of cloth, as if torn from some old garment. Dark brown stains marked its surface, like dried blood.

Was this another tool Sun believers used to test their own?

Duncan was a little surprised. He could not help thinking that these people really were professionals who spent all day being hunted. He had not seen much of their fighting ability yet, but their skills at guarding against spies from outside and traitors inside seemed maxed out.

He took the strip from the man and heard the tall, thin man mutter a few lines in a low voice: “In the name of the Sun, may the Lord’s radiance shine everywhere…”

As soon as Duncan heard it, he felt it was extremely familiar—just not long ago, a cultist had recited this to him.

That cultist had even given him an amulet.

Without changing his expression, Duncan lifted a finger slightly. A tiny green flame no one could see seeped into the ordinary-looking strip of cloth in his hand. Then he kept a straight face and copied the tall, thin man in front of him, repeating the lines of prayer.

The strip of cloth that seemed soaked with old blood stayed quietly in his hand, showing no sign of reaction.

The tall, thin man’s gaze stayed on the strip for a long moment. At last he nodded lightly, took the cloth back from Duncan, and said with a smile: “Welcome back into the Lord’s glory, brother.”