Chapter 6: Study of the Blood Character (1)

Chapter 6: Study of the Blood Character (1)

With so many people patrolling, it was obvious that this was the crime scene. The body of the church official's wife, who had been tortured and killed, was just around the corner of the street, about 20 meters away.

The entire security squad had worked tirelessly to seal off the area to preserve the crime scene, and yet this person, who appeared out of nowhere, was smoking here!

The constable quickly approached Sherlock, confirming that he didn't have any markings associated with the church or the aristocracy. Naturally, he assumed Sherlock was a member of the carriage party.

The constable's colossal three-meter-tall mechanical body stared fiercely at Sherlock. "You! Put out that cigarette immediately!"

The mechanical arm couldn't perform delicate operations like snatching away the cigarette. But judging from this guy's tone, he didn't want to snatch it away; he wanted to tear Sherlock's head off along with the cigarette.

"Don't be so nervous, buddy. Smoking a cigarette won't do any harm," Sherlock said, tilting his head back and waving his hand nonchalantly. "Even if it does, you steam iron skins have been releasing steam nearby for hours. Anything that needed destroying would have been destroyed by now."

"Uh..." The constable's voice faltered.

The exhaust pipes behind his armor emitted a series of hissing sounds at just the right moment.

As a constable, he mostly dealt with tasks like "assisting in cleaning up small-scale demons" or "escorting church members." Protecting a crime scene was not his strong suit.

He turned around and saw Miss Catherine standing not far away. At this distance, they could surely hear each other's conversation clearly.

A sense of embarrassment surged through him.

Undoubtedly, he admired Miss Catherine. Or rather, any man who had some understanding of this judgmental nun would be attracted to her.

Young, beautiful, devout, courageous, educated, from an excellent family and bloodlinevirtues of all kinds could be found in her. What was even more remarkable was that she was a second-stage Contractee.

This natural gap prevented countless admirers from daring to turn their admiration into affection, leaving them to disguise it as reverence for a strong woman.

This made the constable even more infuriated! But he forcibly displayed a bit of chivalry and gritted his teeth, "Leave this place immediately, commoner! This is not where you should be!"

Before he could finish his sentence...

"He cannot leave." It was the first time Catherine spoke since arriving here.

The constable turned back, shocked.

...

The constable handed the newly generated oath to a subordinate and turned around, gesturing for Sherlock to follow.

Just a few steps away, in the area where the gas lamp's light couldn't reach, a dark and quiet alley hid in the shadows.

At the border between light and darkness, several individuals dressed in priestly robes stood piously and humbly. Their heads slightly bowed, they held brass pendants engraved with sacred scriptures, rhythmically reciting them.

Standing in front of these individuals was a tall middle-aged man, nearly two meters tall, bald but with a full beard. He wore a predominantly blue robe, but there was a wide and conspicuous blood-red cloth that extended from the collar to the hem, swaying gently in the night breeze, occasionally outlining the exaggerated muscular contours beneath the robe, which seemed inhuman.

This attire indicated that he was an executioner of the Adjudicators!

Under the church's authority, they were the purest enforcers of violence.

Unlike the Saint Church Legions along the Redcreek Strait, these individuals focused on cleansing within the Empire itself: oath-breakers, rebels, blasphemers of the Holy Light, and those Contractees who committed unforgivable sins, among others.

They possessed the cruelest tortures, bloodiest methods, strictest execution capabilities, weapons comparable to the Saint Church Legions, authority that exceeded the Empire's laws, and almost everything except mercy.

Therefore, these guys with blood-red cloth were even more terrifying in the eyes of most Empire citizens than demons.

"Lord Bader," the constable bowed his head as much as he could, despite his much higher stature with the addition of the steel armor, showing a visible sense of humility. "This is Sherlock, a detective. He was brought here by Miss Catherine..."

The man known as Bader raised his hand, gesturing that there was no need to continue. He then turned his head, his high brow covering his eyes completely in darkness, and stared at Sherlock.

After a few seconds...

"I don't care about your identity, profession, mortal or Contractee. I don't even care if you're a citizen. My wife is dead, and I need the killer... alive!"

His voice was deep, devoid of any trace of sorrow. But Sherlock noticed that when the word "alive" left his mouth, the constable beside him instinctively shuddered.

He must have remembered the cruel tortures in some church blood chambers that made people wish for death.

With that, Minister Bader turned his body to the side, allowing the light from the street lamp to shine into the alley.

A scene that was shocking to the eye unfolded before Sherlock.