Mystery: The Last Shepherd

Chapter 322 One of the key roles
Lu Ze had never heard of this so-called "Count of Andes," let alone why the other party was causing him trouble.

"Why did the Count of Andes send you here?"

He pressed on with that question.

Tyr, the werewolf, opened his mouth, and a clear look of terror suddenly appeared on his blurred face. Then, his previously translucent soul rapidly turned crimson. The light was dazzling and vivid, almost as if the light of a blood moon was bursting forth from his body!
A spiritual intuition told Luze that danger was imminent, so he released his grip and threw the wisp of soul away.

"boom!"

Before the werewolf Tyr could even utter a scream, his soul exploded in mid-air. Crimson specks of light scattered in the air, twinkling like stars, creating a dreamlike scene. Yet, they possessed a certain vitality, subtly showing a tendency to attach themselves to Luze.

Lu Ze decisively created distance, watching as all the lights went out.

They were silenced?

No, it's more like some force behind him trying to corrupt me through my soul.
Lu Ze shook his head.

Is it an evil god worshipped by the Rose School?
I don't know for now.

The simultaneous arising of his own thoughts and those of his clone caused him a moment of dizziness. He then remembered that the prayer ritual was still in progress, quickly ended it, and saw Mr. Fool off.

Leaving aside Klein's regret at not seeing what happened next, Luzer blew out his candle and noticed that the werewolf's extraordinary characteristic had been revealed. It was a dark green fang that had fallen from his mouth.

Sequence 7, the extraordinary characteristics of werewolves.

Luze picked up the special ability and waved his hand again, releasing Constance, who was trapped in the shadows.

"what!"

Constance emerged from the darkness and saw the outside world again, clearly very excited. Just moments ago, Luze had tied him up without a word, and he had almost thought he was going to die. His wounds had bled quite a bit, and he was extremely listless.

Luze walked up to him, placed his hand on his wound, and used flesh magic.

"brush!"

Organs, tissues, muscles, skin. Cons felt the changes in his body; the hideous wounds inflicted by the werewolf had actually healed completely.

Did he save me?

Cons just couldn't believe it.

"I'll let you go this time, since you stopped that werewolf."

Lu Ze said calmly.

He had met this guy once before, investigating him using "psychological stealth" methods, and confirmed that although he was from MI9, he wasn't involved in those matters. He was just a greenhorn eager to make a name for himself.

".Thank you so much."

Before Cons could finish expressing his gratitude, Luze took out a glass bottle from his pocket. He opened the cap, and the blood that had spilled on the ground flowed into the bottle automatically, filling it to the brim, thanks to an unseen force.

"I'm very good at cursing."

He calmly explained to Cons, "I suggest you don't talk about what happened today."

"I understand."

Constance's face paled slightly, and he nodded repeatedly. "I won't tell."

Just as he made that promise, M's phantom appeared behind him. A flash of golden eyes left an indelible mark on his heart. The double protection of the curse's threat and the psychological suggestion ensured he wouldn't reveal the information.

"As long as you know."

Luze glanced at the phantom of M, then asked, "Do you know who the Count of Andes is?" "I've only heard the name."

Cons answered honestly, "He is also a member of the Backlund aristocratic social circle; I've met him a few times at balls."

Do you know where he lives?

Lu Ze continued to ask questions.

Cons shook his head decisively, which didn't sound like a lie; it seemed more like he genuinely didn't know. Indeed, how familiar could one be with someone they'd only met a few times?

"Okay, you can go now."

Lu Zedao.

Cons felt as if he had been granted a pardon. He quickly stood up, bowed to Luzer, and left with unsteady steps.

After what happened today, he suddenly realized that a stable life might not be so bad after all. Perhaps in a few days he would have a new idea. But at least for now, this idea came from the bottom of his heart.

Now Cons just wants to leave this place as soon as possible, go home, and see his family.

Luzer paid no heed to Cons's change of heart. He strolled over to the dead old Jack, knelt down, and reached out to use flesh magic to tend to the old man's horrific wounds. All of old Jack's family was dead; it was now up to him to fulfill the duties of a shepherd and care for the deceased lambs.

Mysterious forces exist in this world, and if corpses are not properly appeased after death, they can easily become haunted by vengeful spirits. Therefore, the official Luen authorities have made special arrangements to ensure that even the poor can be buried in public cemeteries.

Lu Ze faced the corpse, sensing the changes in the "Shepherd's Potion" within his body.

Some of the potion has been digested.

When he merged with the lamb's remnant soul, when he bore the lamb's pain, when he killed the werewolf who had harmed the lamb, he clearly felt the potion being digested.

Lu Ze roughly guessed the reason for the potion's digestion.

Because he faithfully played the role of the "shepherd".

—Protect the flock, provide shelter for the lambs. If the protection fails and the lambs die, at least avenge them. Ironically, the lambs' deaths actually accelerate his role-playing.

So even if it's just for the sake of playing a role, he still has to go find that Count of Andes and the Rose School to demand an explanation.

Backlund, Queens, in a villa.

The spacious room reeked of blood, its once luxurious interior now a mess. Oil paintings in gilded frames were splattered with blood. Several fresh heads sat on a magnificent walnut table, a stark contrast to the vases beside them. Countless pieces of flesh littered the carpet, and shredded intestines were pasted onto the velvet curtains.
One can imagine that a bloody and frenzied feast took place here just now as the red moon descended.

"I wonder if that guy Tyrell will mess things up."

A man licked the blood off his fingers and muttered something.

His skin was deathly pale, with a few faint dark spots, making him look like a real corpse. His eyes overflowed with madness and malice, radiating boundless desire.

"It doesn't matter; he'll instinctively create chaos under the moonlight."

On the other side of the room, the interior decorations were not stained with blood and appeared much cleaner. A middle-aged man in his forties, dressed in a black tuxedo, sat in a chair and spoke expressionlessly.

At his feet lay four or five men and women dressed as servants. Their eyes were vacant, their faces stiff, and although they were still breathing faintly, they looked like soulless shells.

The other two members of the Rose School had just enjoyed a lavish feast under the red moon.

The person who hosted them was naturally the owner of the villa, the Count of Andes.

(End of this chapter)