Chapter 331

Chapter 331: Interrogation

A cultist with a head full of delusions, staring with that kind of conviction and saying something that chilling, should have been the most memorable part of the scene.

But Yu Sheng couldn’t stop thinking about something else.

“How does the world become so hopelessly sick?” he muttered, frowning. “Sure, there are strange, creepy things out there, but every place has disasters and misfortune. Disaster hits, you deal with it. Trouble comes, you block it. How does that jump all the way to ‘the world is beyond saving’ and ‘we have to fight poison with poison’?”

Bai Li Qing passed his question straight to the staff in the interrogation chamber.

The loudspeaker carried the interrogator’s voice. “By what standards do you judge that this world is ‘beyond saving’?”

The cultist shifted, then was jerked back into place by the restraint device.

“You can’t see it,” he said, tugging at the corner of his mouth. His tone even held a trace of pity. “Most people can’t see it. Listen carefully—listen to the wailing between the stars. The astrologers of Alglade claim they can hear the stars, but they never dare face the truth hidden in the deepest dark.

“The whole world is shrouded in the gloom of collapse. In that distant starlight, surging thoughts are hidden. Every moment, countless possibilities pointing to doomsday burst from the edge of the observable universe, only to be briefly held back by the stars. Did the Astrologers’ Consortium ever warn you? They didn’t, because they themselves are full of flaws. They can only observe the most superficial part of starlight.

“And those so-called prophets—those Bamosians—they claim to be disciples of the Great Prophet and play at foretelling the future with the forest folk, but has any of them ever spoken of the whispers at the border of the observable universe? Has anyone ever talked about the curtain at the end of starlight, the limits of the material universe, the collisions and ruptures beyond the end of order? No.

“They know nothing about the real future. Whether Bamosian or forest folk, their so-called prophecies and calculations are just tricks—catching phantoms in the brief ripples of the timeflow. Their ways of observing and reading the stars are crude, and only the Supreme Saint once glimpsed the truth of a world about to fall apart in the light and shadow at the end of starlight. A voice… a voice whispered to him—”

The interrogator tapped the table lightly.

The sound wasn’t loud, but the entire room seemed to tremble. The soul-piercing psionic tremor made the cultist’s eyes fly wide. It was as if someone had seized him by the throat. He strained his neck, lifting himself against the restraints, and dragged in painful, rasping breaths.

Six seconds later, the reverberation finally stopped. The cultist sagged, soaked in sweat, panting as if he’d run for his life.

“I’m having you answer questions, not preach,” the interrogator said. “I’ve heard countless variations of this theory.”

“I… I understand,” the cultist whispered.

“Good. I understand how you see this ‘terminally ill world.’ Here’s the next question: how do you plan to use the angel catalyst to pierce these ‘lesions’?”

The interrogator’s tone sharpened. “Or to put it more bluntly… how do you plan to use these substances to destroy what you call the universe’s diseased regions, including otherworld and the Borderland?”

“Th-the exact technology is still being researched,” the cultist said urgently. “I’m telling the truth! Our research into the angel catalyst is still in the early stage. A lot of it is theoretical. Some of it exists only as fragments of knowledge the Supreme Saint saw in meditation. Sorting it out and turning it into usable technology is a long process…”

“And this ‘early stage’,” the interrogator said, “how long has it lasted so far?”

The cultist hesitated, then clenched his teeth. “By standard Terra time… about seventeen years.”

The room went quiet—both rooms, as if even breathing would be too loud.

“So you started researching the angel catalyst seventeen years ago,” the interrogator said at last, “and the angel catalyst is, in essence, the wreckage left behind after dark angels fall.”

His voice grew colder. “But dark angel Anka Aila fell only recently, and we have solid evidence this was the first angel in history to experience a fall. How could you have been studying angel wreckage for more than ten years? Did this research appear out of thin air? Did you take a few illusions your Supreme Saint saw in meditation and invent, from nothing, the properties of angel wreckage?”

The cultist’s lips trembled. After a long moment, he spoke as if squeezing out a smile.

“That’s right. Anka Aila is the first angel to fall,” he said. “But have you ever considered that It might not be the first angel to die?”

Behind the observation window, Yu Sheng’s brows knit together. Bai Li Qing pressed the intercom button. “What do you mean by that?”

The cultist startled and looked up toward a corner of the ceiling, as if he’d forgotten where he was. Then the interrogator’s voice cut in, leaving no room for doubt.

“Answer.”

The cultist shuddered. “Dark angels share the trait of invasion, but beyond that, each has its own characteristics,” he said. “So no kind of dark angel is surprising. Some dark angels enter the real universe already in a dead state. Isn’t that reasonable?”

This time, even the interrogator couldn’t hide his shock. “You found a naturally dead dark angel?”

“We call It Shadowless Remains,” the cultist said in a low voice, “or simply ‘the bones.’ It is buried in a massive crater known as the Adar Crater—a pit so huge you can see it clearly from space. Strange, nameless shadows wander at the bottom, and the bones lie in the central area ringed by those shadows, an area also known as the shadowless zone.

“The bones are the skeleton of a gigantic humanoid creature, with broken wing bones on Its back. It curls up with Its arms around Its knees on a shattered crystal base. If it stood, the skeleton might be over six hundred meters tall—obviously not something that could be born under normal conditions. Around it are scattered bone fragments and crystal shards, and whether it’s the skeleton itself or the pieces around it, they have extremely high physical strength. They also continually release a vague whisper into the surroundings.

“We spent a long time confirming what Shadowless Remains truly was, until the Supreme Saint received enlightenment in meditation and told us it was a dark angel that was already dead the moment it entered the real universe—and ‘remains’ is Its defining trait.”

Bai Li Qing pressed the intercom again. “How did you confirm It was in a dead state?”

The question sounded strange on the surface. A pile of bones at the bottom of a crater didn’t exactly scream “alive.”

But anyone who understood dark angels knew why she asked. These intruders came in all shapes. A tree could be an invading angel. A statue. Even a planet. You couldn’t judge life or death by appearance.

“It is in a dead-silence state,” the cultist said after a brief hesitation. “No signs of activation. It doesn’t move. Aside from the constant whispers around it, there is no energy release that could be called ‘active.’”

He swallowed. “And more importantly… with proper protection, mortals can touch It and live. They can even collect samples. Afterward, they won’t be affected.”

His last reason was simple, and terrifyingly convincing.

Everyone knew one thing: mortals couldn’t have close contact with a dark angel and still be walking around afterward. Forget close contact—sometimes, just seeing one from more than ten kilometers away on a battlefield had a thirty percent chance of killing you.

Yet these Hermitage Order cultists had scraped bone powder off Shadowless Remains in the Adar Crater and studied it.

A brutal logic: you touched a dark angel and didn’t die, so the dark angel must be dead.

“So you found a dead dark angel more than ten years ago and started research into the angel catalyst from that,” the interrogator said. “What happened after that?”

“…We discovered the angel catalyst gathered around Shadowless Remains wasn’t active enough,” the cultist said. With each answer, he cooperated more. “Those small bone fragments and crystal shards scattered around the giant skeleton—just as the Supreme Saint said, they showed an erosion trait. But their power was nowhere near enough to pierce otherworld. It was like… something was missing.”

He licked his lips. “We suspected it was because Shadowless Remains had been dead for too long. Its power had weakened.”

“So you set your sights on dark angels that were still alive,” the interrogator said, voice sinking. “Based on analysis of the samples collected around your ship, you were already hiding in Mistbound City at least ten years ago. In other words… from that time, you already knew Anka Aila existed.”

“…Yes.”