This time I chose Paladin.

Chapter 283 Prohibition of Praying in Public

Miao Lun's voice carried suppressed anger, and a hint of barely perceptible fear.

"They initially performed the sacrifice only on the night of the full moon each month, then it became the seventh day of the week, and now it is once every three days."

"Anyway, human life is a readily available resource here."

Miao Lun forced a smile, a bitter look on his face.

“They don’t treat people like human beings, especially locals like us. Albert, you’re a minority.”

"And here, due to the immense pressure to survive, many people are still having sex and getting pregnant. In a month or two, there will probably be a baby boom here. As for those who were pregnant before that, many have already given birth, but where can they raise them?"

He took a deep breath, his shoulders hunching.

"Therefore, the people of the Church of Life adopted those infants and young children in the name of 'divine grace'."

"They claim they're giving them a better life, but in reality..."

Miao Lun clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"...In reality, they were used as sacrifices to worship that false idol."

"They temporarily avoid targeting the adults who are still able to work, and instead prey on the weak and innocent children."

As Miao Lun spoke, his face was full of sorrow, and his eyes showed both anger and a deep sense of powerlessness.

Albert, sitting opposite him, was ashen-faced, his fists trembling slightly from the force of his grip, veins bulging on the back of his hands. He practically spat out a sentence through clenched teeth, his voice low and dangerous: "...What do they take life for?"

"Use it as a tool." A voice came.

The voice was calm and gentle, but Albert and Miao Lun were startled, like cats whose tails had been stepped on, and they turned their heads sharply to look at the source of the voice.

The fireball at Miao Lun's fingertip suddenly swelled, transforming into a poised attack spell. Albert reacted even faster, drawing his hometown-style two-handed sword out of thin air, the tip pointing forward and downward, his muscles tense, entering a battle stance.

Only then did they realize that a figure had appeared in that previously empty corner!
He stood there quietly, seemingly blending into the shadows, and they didn't even notice him!
"Don't be nervous, Miao Lun." The figure spoke, his voice calm and gentle: "If you throw fire out here, that would be a disaster."

As he spoke, the man calmly emerged from the shadows, ignoring Albert's pointed sword tip, and walked straight to where the fireball's light could illuminate. He then sat down naturally on the grass mat next to Albert, as if he were the master of the place.

By the flickering firelight, Albert and Milton were able to make out the faces of the newcomers—

He was a sickly-looking adult male, his face smeared with mud and ash, making him look filthy, and dressed in tattered clothes that were no different from those of the local vagrants.

However, when Albert's gaze met those eyes, which remained calm despite the grime, and he made out the vague outline of the facial features, his pupils suddenly dilated and he blurted out, "Shouheng??"

But the next second, his heightened sense of vigilance almost made him jump.

Lin Shouheng should be in Kushui Town, so how did he suddenly appear here? And in such a bizarre way?!
Moreover, although the person in front of him looks very similar, his indescribable temperament is completely different from Lin Shouheng's!
"No!" Albert shouted sharply, not only not retracting his two-handed sword, but thrusting it forward, the cold blade pressed tightly against the newcomer's neck: "Who are you?! What did you do to Lin Shouheng?!"

His eyes were sharp as knives; if the other party made the slightest move, he would strike without hesitation. Meanwhile, the fireball in Miao Lun's hand hovered nearby, its intense light illuminating the tense profiles of the newcomer and Albert, instantly freezing the atmosphere.

The newcomer glanced at the sword at his neck, then at Albert, who looked as if facing a formidable enemy, his eyes calm and gentle: "He's fine. Don't be nervous."

Albert's eye twitched slightly.

He could clearly sense that the person in front of him was not bluffing at all, but genuinely did not take his aggression seriously.

To disregard a combat class like him in close combat can only mean two things: either they're hopelessly stupid, or they're strong enough to ignore such a threat.

Albert didn't believe that a fool could sneak up next to them so quietly.

So now, he's really nervous.

Under Albert's bewildered gaze, the newcomer even tilted his head and touched the cold blade with his cheek.

"Put it away," the man said, his tone even tinged with helplessness. "A 1.3-meter sword stuck in this small place, aren't you afraid of tearing this shed down if you move it too much?" Albert was taken aback by his actions and words, feeling a bit annoyed, but the other man's demeanor certainly didn't seem malicious.

He hesitated for a moment, then flicked his wrist, and the heavy two-handed swords disappeared from his hands as if by magic. But his muscles remained tense, ready to launch an attack at any moment.

"Who are you?" Albert asked again in a deep voice, his eyes piercing.

"Before asking that question," the visitor calmly adjusted his posture, "shouldn't you introduce yourselves according to etiquette?"

His gaze swept across Albert's face. For some reason, even just ordinary dark brown eyes startled Albert, and he instinctively lowered his eyes to avoid eye contact.

"Lin Shouheng said you two were classmates. He seems much more refined than you," the visitor commented.

"You're the visitor, you bastard! What kind of high treatment do you expect from an uninvited guest?" Albert's face darkened, but he felt more relaxed because the other party mentioned the details of Lin Shouheng.

He was certain that Lin Shouheng would not casually reveal such past information to others.

The person in front of him had at least a certain degree of trust from Lin Shouheng.

At this moment, Miao Lun leaned forward, forced a smile, and extended his hand: "Hello, I am Miao Lun, a mage."

The person glanced at him but didn't actually shake his hand. Instead, they lightly traced a line up and down next to his fingertips with their fingers, completing a symbolic gesture.

This caused Miao Lun's expression to stiffen slightly, but he maintained his smile.

Albert's gaze swept quickly between the two men before he extended his hand forward, stating succinctly: "Rothal Albert, two-handed swordsman."

"I've heard so much about you." This time, the person actually shook his hand properly, a cryptic smile on their face.

Albert felt a chill run down his spine the instant his palms touched.

He didn't deliberately exert force to test the other's strength, but with just this one grip, he could clearly feel the power contained in the other's palm—not a deliberately displayed brute force, but a kind of deep-rooted, steady, and mountain-like strength, as if he were not holding a slightly cool hand, but a warm yet indestructible piece of metal.

This feeling was fleeting, because the other person quickly let go of her hand.

Albert narrowed his eyes slightly, omitting any irrelevant remarks, and instead focusing on the other person's choice of words: "Your wording..."

"Are you Chinese? What's the situation in China right now? What brings you here?"

"Hmm." The newcomer responded noncommittally, completely ignoring any mention of the situation in China, and then smiled and said, "My purpose is similar to yours: I want to stop that idol, those sacrifices, and those so-called prayers."

His gaze shifted to Miao Lun, whose complexion was not good, and his tone remained patient: "As for you..."

"Keep your cleverness to yourself, mage. If I wanted you to, you would be dead."

Miao Lun's face darkened, and his tone turned cold. He rubbed his fingers together, a wisp of shadow disappearing from his fingertips: "What do you mean?"

The person did not answer, but instead raised his hand and made a grasping motion in front of his face, as if unveiling something invisible.

The next moment, a golden mask with closed eyes and tears appeared out of thin air in his hand. The golden tear stains on the mask were lifelike and shimmered in the dim light.

A strange energy then dissipated.

Nie Weiyang blinked his blood-red eyes, and as Miao Lun instinctively lowered his head, he frowned slightly.

His mind was like a noisy market... or a prison, or a brothel, or even a crematorium.

Dark whispers, painful groans, vicious curses, humble pleas... Within a small part of the shantytown, the voices of the people surged, echoing continuously like background noise that could not be turned off.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “My surname is Nie. Nie with two ears. You’ve lived this long, so you should know me.”

(End of this chapter)