Chapter 286: The Safe House Tomb

Chapter 286: The Safe House Tomb

Water trickled down a flawless body, meandering through the grooves of the tiles, flowing into the Sewer.

There was no shower gel, no shampoo, no conditioner, not even a facial cleanser—nothing at all, not even a showerhead, just a pipe spraying water downwards.

It felt less like taking a shower and more like being caught in a downpour for Igor.

Moreover, the bathroom was so small it couldn’t even accommodate Igor with his arms extended. Even in Shattered Lake Prison, Igor had never been so destitute.

However, Igor, who was fond of cleanliness, wasn’t too bothered at the moment. He quickly rinsed off the sweat from his body, then dried off with a rough towel and changed into casual clothes. The clothes didn’t fit perfectly, but it was not a situation to be fussy about.

He returned to the main hall of the basement to find Harvey applying makeup to a coffin, using a brow pencil made of bone and a lipstick with a base of blood ink; Ashe was blow-drying Lise’s hair with a remarkably inefficient hairdryer; Banjeet was cooking a late-night meal by the stove, while Annan was flipping through the Gospel with a cup of hot milk in hand.

“Ha ha, everyone’s chatting, eh? I just dozed off and dreamed that Ashe and you, Annan, topped the Art Ranking. Then we had to flee Azura after an attack. I’m just waking up from it... such a strange dream,” Igor said as he picked a chair to sit on. “And here we thought we were just here for a tomb excursion.”

Annan closed the Gospel: “Are you trying to hypnotize us?”

“Or maybe just myself,” Igor replied. “Escapism is the last tear of a Mind Sorcerer.”

At that moment, Banjeet turned off the portable stove, brought over a plate loaded with thick-cut steaks, white bread, cream sauce, mashed potatoes, and more — quite a lavish spread for a late-night snack.

“Is there any wine?” Annan suddenly asked.

Banjeet nodded, opened his suitcase, and took out a bottle of wine along with five glasses. He then added a slice of lemon to some water to make ice cubes and quickly mixed five glasses of drinks.

“I tend to buffer my brain with a bit of alcohol when I encounter troubles,” Annan said. “I think you’ll enjoy this feeling—shut up if you have any objections, and let’s toast now!”

“This is workplace harassment...” Ashe muttered, holding Lise’s head down as he took a glass and drank it in one gulp.

The drink was smooth, fruity, and not at all spicy, leaving a pleasant aftertaste that was very enjoyable.

“Is there more?” Harvey asked.

“Of course you haven’t,” Miss Annan shrugged. “My grandfather was cremated long ago. But this place is his tomb—at least nominally.”

The Necromancer didn’t understand the intricacies here, but the Con Artist quickly caught on. “To mislead the Gospel?”

“Seriously, given some time, Mr. Bukin could surely build an empire from scratch that rivals the Broken Home Firm,” Miss Annan remarked. “Indeed, while the Gospel knows everything about the Gospel Kingdom, there’s some leeway with specific names—like how I bought a residential house and turned it into an office space for the firm, but in the records of the Gospel, it’s still registered as ‘Annan’s Residence’, not ‘Annan’s Office’.”

“If you build a safe house without any approval, the Gospel will label it as a ‘personal basement.’ But if I buy the land under the guise of a tomb from the city planning bureau and transform it, it will be recognized by the Gospel as a tomb.”

“Even if I transform this place into a safe house, in the database of the Gospel, it will still be shown as a tomb—after all, there’s no rule saying a tomb can’t be converted into this form. Now, the Red Cap and the Firm are certainly scouring the safe houses I prepared earlier, but they definitely won’t find this place in the short term. For them, the priority of searching tombs is too low.”

Speaking thus, Annan clasped her hands together devoutly, praying, “Grandfather, please bless this tomb with your fatty liver and pungent urine, drive away the beasts of civilization, and keep us away from danger.”

It was evident that Annan’s grandfather did not have a peaceful life, his health was so poor that even the Medics did not bother to patch him up.

Annan’s words were not difficult to understand, and her plan was not complex, but everyone was still amazed by her meticulous thinking—only someone like Annan, who spent all day studying how to exploit loopholes in the Gospel, would know such bizarre methods.

“So,” Igor clasped his hands, “what’s the plan next?”

“It’s 2:11 AM now, and we need to move before 6:00 AM, which means we have about four hours to rest,” Annan said. “We need to split into two shifts for night duty.”

“The shift on duty needs to stay alert and must open the Gospel every five minutes to check for people within a 300-meter radius. Those off duty should enter the Virtual Realm and try to restore their spirits within two hours, as we need to continue on our journey early tomorrow morning.”

The Gospel is not just a chaser’s blade but also a fugitive’s iron shield. As long as you have enough Points, the Gospel does not care about your goodness or evil, fairly providing services that are worth more than they cost to anyone.

Igor and others summoned their own Gospels, pondering— their mode of operation was still stuck in the Blood Moon Version. If it weren’t for Annan, a member of the guide team for the Gospel Version, leading them, they would have been hit across versions by the Red Cap and the Firm long ago.

Reconnaissance, attack, defense, logistics... in the Kingdom of Gospel, almost all functions can involve the Gospel, and its power is no less than that of Sorcerer miracles. How to make good use of the Gospel is indeed the core essence of battle in the Gospel Version.

Annan spread her hands, “If there are no questions, then—”

“What about Ashe?”