He is the leader of the Tantric sect in Chagdu.

Chapter 64 Wings

"curse----"

A bunch of congealed, bloodshot eyeballs rolled around in their shriveled eye sockets, faintly emitting a sharp, grating sound due to the lack of mucus.

Charon chewed on the word.

"Curse, curse—"

Those cracked lips gradually parted, the cracks almost extending down to below the earlobe.

"Is it funny?"

Abram tilted his head. The timid and cowardly young man from a day ago was now as sharp as a drawn knife. He squinted and spoke aggressively.

"I'm asking you—is it funny?"

"Maybe."

Charon paused, then shook his head, not dwelling on the matter for long. Perhaps he had only recently realized it, or perhaps he hadn't fully accepted the change in the other person's appearance.

Gern is dead; Abram is the one left here.

For a homeless person strapped with time bombs, neither intimidation nor threats can shake him for even a moment.

"I was just a little surprised that, in the eyes of outsiders, such a sublimation could actually be labeled a curse—"

""

So Charon silently suppressed that repulsive expression and changed to the tone of someone speaking to an old friend: "Abram, I know what you people who have been to Iss think—after all, I've lived a long time and have seen too many young people yearning for that outside world—"

"But they were all corrupted, irreparably corrupted—they abandoned the sacred and immaculate homeland of the winged to embrace the filth and ugliness of the earth—"

Faced with Abram's barely concealed sneer, he carefully chose his words and continued, "Actually, in earlier times, the Archbishop's control over Agdewey hadn't developed to such an extreme extent—we certainly know that the outside world is developing rapidly and changing a lot—those incomprehensible machines and creations once greatly shocked me—"

"Hehehe————"

Abram was clearly on the verge of bursting into laughter; the mockery and sarcasm on his face were almost tangible.

Charon suddenly turned his head, his neck, as thin as a rice husk, twisting almost 180 degrees backward.

"but----"

The stern old pastor said in a deep voice, "Abram, don't you think of me as too simplistic and foolish—"

"At first, I also thought that Agdewe would prosper more because of these changes. At least I am the leader here. Rather than the possibility of poor harvests or even famines due to the climate, I hope that everyone can have enough to eat, and I also hope that the changes outside will bring a better life to the people of Agdewe."

"Do you know?"

He spoke almost word by word, his twisted expression like that of a demon: "Initially, I would even proactively send young people who were willing to accept new things out of here—I would watch them leave, wait for them to return, I thought they would give Agdewey a future, but—"

"Guess what happened?"

Charon spoke softly, then amplified his voice, his hoarse voice laced with anger, "Perhaps you still understand this world with the mindset of a child playing house, but now that things have come to this, you should see for yourself—what kind of reality is hidden behind the glorious kingdom of Ys that you so admire."

He clapped his hands twice: "Bring the person over here."

After a brief commotion, a group of bone eagles escorted several figures through the crowd and dragged them to Abram.

Abram narrowed his eyes, something flashing in his dark pupils.

"You attacked the outsiders—"

He whispered.

Abram recognized the people slumped on the ground like rotten flesh—some of them were passengers he had met on the same train the day before, the well-off couple, and the young people whose identities he couldn't discern—they hadn't spoken to each other on the train, and they had all gone their separate ways after getting off.

I didn't expect to run into him here again.

"Do you know, Abram, do you know how much the High Bishop has done for this village—"

Charon slowly stepped forward, then stepped on one of the men's heads—"You see this as our barbaric bloodlust, as our closed-off and xenophobic behavior, but you simply don't understand—the kind of calamity these damned outsiders' greed will become—"

He pressed his heel against the man's face until the flesh was rubbed into a fine, mushy paste by the rough rocks. He didn't stop. The man on the ground had his mouth gagged and could only let out a shrill scream like a boiling boiler from the gaps in his airway.

Charon ignored the man's screams and the horrified looks from the people around him.

He looked directly at Abram and lowered his body slightly: "Abram, you've lived in Dunling for six years, so let me ask you, five hundred pounds—that's a huge sum of money."

Five hundred pounds.

It's an astronomical figure for the workers.

Abram recalled that since the rise of Issu, it had pegged its currency to gold, thus establishing the gold standard. As the official currency within Issu, one "Issu pound" was equivalent to one-tenth of an ounce of gold, and two hundred pounds was enough to buy a brand-new car in Tunling.

Just as Abram was pondering, Charon suddenly increased the pressure on his foot again, and the bone supporting the shoe made a crisp "crack" sound. Then, due to the deformation of his jawbone, the obstruction in his mouth was squeezed out and spat out by the man, accompanied by a pool of blood and broken teeth. "Help me—stop! You bunch of lunatics—"

Without giving him a second chance to speak, Charon broke the man's neck in front of almost everyone.

Watching his unsupported limbs writhe on the ground, the old pastor gave a sinister smile and turned toward Abram.

"Now—I'm going to tell you something few people know: in Dunling, a native from the deep wilderness, a foreigner with wings on his back, can be sold through certain shady channels."

"Worth five hundred pounds —"

He held up five fingers and said slowly and deliberately, "Even more so, it's priceless."

The next moment, Charon took a deep breath, his facial muscles contorting like withered vines: "I never imagined that the children of the sky, the noble Agdewe—would be reduced to commodities. If it's a trial participant, or a child, the closer a winged being is to a bird, the more they can fetch a price of a thousand—two thousand pounds! I got all this from those damned outsiders—haha, hahaha!"

"Now, do you still think I'm uglier?"

He looked up, his eyes flashing with madness. "Every few months, these cunning fools come here to make a profit. Of course, they've never formed a large group; perhaps they're also hiding from being tracked down."

"Later, all of these people were secretly dealt with by the High Bishop. We couldn't even incite hostility among the villagers towards outsiders. If everyone became afraid because of this, we would lose our trade channels with Isu—and then things would be even more difficult."

As if the devil were bewitching him, Charon teased in a gentle, casual tone, as if discussing a family matter.

"Now tell me, compared to these guys, what I've done, how much more important is it?"

The silence did not last long.

"I see—"

—Seriously, it's rotten to the core.

Abram took a deep breath, then gave a bitter laugh. He shook his head helplessly and said, "But when exactly can the degree of a crime be compared?"

He didn't flinch; he looked directly into those dark eyes.

"Charon, you are merely using the malice inflicted upon us by the outside world to dilute the crimes you committed against innocent people. If I were to truly compare these two evils and determine which is more heinous, I would be the one who has truly become a beast just like you."

He looked at Charon with disdain, his mockery deepening: "So, you old codger, you can feel guilty after all?"

Ignoring Charon's increasingly distorted expression, Abram sighed, his eyes growing increasingly complicated.

"Perhaps the doctor mentioned it to me—"

He thought of that woman again:

After he graduated from school in Dunling and received his diploma, the doctor finally began to see him as a self-aware adult—Gern asked her many times, with bewilderment, "Why did you do this?"

Why do this?

—Why————You could have had a better life.

He asked, "You know so many amazing friends, you have superb medical skills, you possess knowledge, you could easily open this clinic in the city, or go to those big hospitals to perform surgery—instead of staying here, taking care of those dirty homeless people, those unregistered people, and those children who will drag you out until you die—that's a bottomless pit, no amount of money is enough for you to spend on them."

However, on that face devoid of feminine grace, after being washed away by memories, only coal stains and scars that could not be washed away remained. Within that tall, thin figure resided the firm outline of an idealist.

"Gern————"

This is how the doctor answered him.

"The tragedies of this world are far greater than the steam in the Dunling factory. They are overwhelming and uninterrupted, like those steam engines. When they break down, they are repaired; when they stop working, they are replaced with new ones. No matter where you hide, the light from the electric lights can shine on your face, stinging your black eyes with that color born from the fire."

If the weak in this world can still be bullied at will, if children still suffer hardship and torment, if no one can change their fate through labor and effort—

"So what's the difference between what we're doing and what we did a few hundred years ago?"

"Gern".

-

The doctor said.

"Gern, humanity has risen from the abyss of ignorance. Our glory is not empty talk. Perhaps—the dark side will always exist, but what we can do is spread the power of fire and steam to the ends of the earth. We want change, we want rebirth, we want those parasites to have nowhere to hide in the sunlight, we want to cleanse the rot from those damp corners—"

The former Gern seemed to remain forever in a state of bewilderment.

Now, he can finally see a shadow calling his name from behind his pupils.

"Gern".

Those were the doctor, and her colleagues behind her.

"Abram, you will understand someday—if you feel confused, it means you haven't understood all of this yet. Perhaps I can put it more simply."

—Simpler?

"You said you would guide the innocent who have hope to the promised place—"

"And one more thing," the doctor said, "you must send the wicked to hell."

-I see.

Every change has a source, perhaps a childhood dream, or perhaps a heart-wrenching regret.

But it would never be doubt.

Abram closed his eyes.

"This is our business."

I don't know how much time has passed—it may have been a long time, or it may have been just a moment.

Abram opened his eyes, his vibrant gaze brimming with energy, and all his confusion vanished.

Charon suddenly frowned.

"I don't know why, but I suddenly hate your eyes so much—" Those sharp, bird-like eyes darted back and forth, as if trying to pierce through the skin and see what was inside that body.

The old pastor slowly squinted his eyes.

He fell into deep thought, seemingly unable to comprehend—what could possibly enable a timid young man to experience such a leap in growth in just one day?

"snort----"

He sneered, then thought of another brilliant move—a move to mentally crush Abram.

"So be it, it doesn't matter. You can't stop anything—when you witness my ascension, you will regret betraying the Lord's favor."

He laughed and said, "Before that, perhaps what happens next will give you a moment to clear your head."

next moment.

Charon suddenly straightened his sunken back, and something vibrated beneath his pure white shepherd's robe.

It is the prelude to cracking and growth.

His scapula was extending in an inverted direction, and something enormous, something that could not be contained by this human body, something thin and broad, was emerging from his withered spine as a non-human, sacred corner.

A splash of golden-red, like a black hole, gathers all the vision directed at it into a single point. It is a color more magnificent and dazzling than the blazing sun, more vibrant than blood, more vivid than a rose, and as light as paper foil, as if it were something formed after burning all the tender buds.

It's like shaking a thermometer, like peeling an arm out of a long sleeve—

Golden-red wingtips tore through the white robe, like blood flowing from a wound in something pure white—a pungent, greasy, rusty smell, along with a shrill whistling sound like nauseating cellophane unfolding, all accompanied by the pair of exquisitely beautiful wings fully unfurling in the air: "Enjoy, enjoy it to the fullest!"

From that aged throat, the Adam's apple, almost piercing the skin, slid wildly up and down, emitting a tearing and violently trembling bird cry.

"Euu—

"6

Wings rose toward the sky, then slammed into the ground, their sharp tips piercing deep into the flesh and bones of an outsider. With each subsequent unfolding, the human was torn apart like a puppet.

Blood splattered like rain, mixing and flowing down among the soft downy feathers—yet the smooth feathers remained pristine.

"This is the true—wings of a bird!"

Charon seemed to be rising rapidly.

—I praise the Lord with all my heart, I offer my whole blood, flesh and fat, therefore my wings shall be stronger and more powerful than anyone else's, and more supple and exalted than anyone else's—

All the bones, flesh, and feathers together weave together to create this magnificent work of art: the complete giant wings bring an incomparably exquisite structure, with the layered coverts arranged more orderly than fish scales.

Wings are a sacred thing that emerges from the cocoon; they are the most perfect and ultimate interpretation of the principles of flight.

"Lily————"

At close range, Abram looked at the pair of wings and murmured as if in a dream.

"That's really good."

Charon, who had already adopted the posture of a victor, walked up to him with his towering wings. With the support of these two giant wings, the previously frail old man exuded an irresistible aura of authority. Although he was clearly shorter than Abram, his gaze was now completely looking down on him.

"Little Gern, how do you feel seeing these wings? You know, when they were on your sister, they weren't nearly as magnificent—"

What does this tell us?

He was ferocious and inhuman: "Only I—I am the one who will lead the Agdeum people to redeem their favor, and that bird can only be me."

Charon simply flapped his wings, and his emaciated body, light as a feather, was lifted slightly into the air—he laughed loudly, and then walked step by step toward the final step of the trial.

"Now, witness my one."

"Ring ring—"

The next moment, a sudden ringing interrupted his progress. The clear and melodious sound seemed to come from afar, inexplicably attracting everyone's attention.

Accompanied by the chirping of fledglings —

—Yen Deh—Eh—Ra—Te,—EhTaReTe—Oh—Ra—Te,—Eh Ra Re Te—Oh—Ra—Te————

Charon squinted unknowingly on the road where the sunlight spread, and a swaying shadow appeared at the end of his vision, warm white like a lamb walking on the grass.

The shepherdess, waving her staff and singing joyfully, walked towards the sunlit mountain gorge.

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