22 Acts of Sacrilege

"I really want to run away~ but I can't escape~"

"Sigh! Why is this god-awful mess still haunting me..."

Honestly, Herbert was speechless. He had deliberately run to this remote corner to fetch water, all to avoid stumbling upon that scene in the kitchen again. My friend, could you show a little restraint? I am a kind-hearted soul, and I cannot bear to see a poor grass carp subjected to such bullying. Besides... seeing the aftermath is one thing, and I would be speechless for a moment at most. But if I had walked in right in the middle of it, wouldn't that be awkward for everyone?

"Ugh, what a creep! Ugh, such a pervert..."

Herbert cast one last glance at the grass carp’s dead, wide-eyed stare, then silently walked to the other side and threw the bucket into the well to draw water. "Don't look at me. Every debt has its debtor, and every grievance has its source. I saw nothing, I saw absolutely nothing..."

Although he had stumbled upon this incident twice now, Herbert had no intention of reporting it to anyone. Firstly, it remained a matter of understanding others' preferences; one must respect every unique hobby. After all, there are all kinds of love in this world. There are people who obsess over Puff-shrooms, people infatuated with attack helicopters, and even people who... well. It’s just a grass carp! At least it’s a living thing. That’s not too bad. Compared to others, his condition is much milder.

Secondly... Herbert’s own hands weren't exactly clean. The pot shouldn't call the kettle black; we’re all in the same boat. Not to mention his status as a contractor for an Outer God, even the things he was about to do were already quite twisted. From anyone else's perspective, Herbert’s actions were likely no more noble than those of the Grass Carp Bro. Washing a woman's hair and then hiding in a room to savor the scent... is that something a decent person should be doing? Just thinking about it felt deeply wrong.

To avoid drawing fire onto himself, Herbert decided that less trouble was better than more; he would just pretend he hadn't discovered anything at all. None of his business.

He walked away quickly after drawing the water, without trying to find any clues on the grass carp, completely ignoring its existence. As for the identity of the Grass Carp Bro, he wasn't curious at all. Not even a little!

.

.

The Tribunal.

"Your Excellency, Chief Inquisitor."

In the cold, grim hall, Herbert bowed slightly to the muscular man sitting silently with his head lowered. The bald giant wore a strange, spiked crown that obscured his eyes, revealing only the lower half of his face, which betrayed no emotion. Dark red, thick thorns were wrapped around his body; those sharp spikes pierced his clothes and dug deep into his skin, constantly draining nutrients and magical energy from his flesh and blood. It was a harrowing sight.

Although he didn't look like a "good guy," he was one of the top figures of the Fog Monastery. Within the monastery, aside from the elusive Grand Archbishop, there were three Cardinals in the public eye. They were the [Chief Inquisitor], who oversaw all Tribunal matters; the [Warden], who guarded various precious archives; and the [Grand Master of the Knights], who commanded all Paladins, monks, and ascetics.

The man before him was the Chief Inquisitor, known as the Thorn Bishop, who managed the Tribunal. The functions of the Tribunal were similar to the religious inquisitions of his past life, responsible for the detention, interrogation, and punishment of heretics and the fallen. In a sense, the Chief Inquisitor was the direct superior of Herbert the jailer. He was also the last person that Herbert—a double agent destined for the path of the "Reverse Trinity"—wanted to approach. Blasphemy, oath-breaking, corruption—no matter which of his secrets were exposed, he would surely be judged by this very man.

Yet, here Herbert was, standing before him.

The Thorn Bishop slowly opened his eyes, which were filled with scarlet bloodshot veins, and stared indifferently at the white-haired youth bowing respectfully before him. After a moment, he spoke slowly: "...It is you, Herbert Albert."

"I remember you. But you should be in the dungeons right now, enlightening the heretics. Why are you here? Do you have business with me?"

The Thorn Bishop’s voice was deep and resonant, surprisingly different from his ferocious appearance. Instead of feeling cold, it carried a warm, pleasant quality. If Herbert were to give an evaluation, it was the kind of magnificent, mature voice that would excite many voice-acting enthusiasts. Furthermore, he was not a man of few words; he was unexpectedly talkative. Whether he had been holding it in for too long or not, Herbert had only said one sentence, and the Bishop had already been talking to himself for quite a while.

Herbert looked up and reported softly, "Your Excellency, I have something I wish to report to the Grand Archbishop."

"You need to report to the Grand Archbishop?" The Thorn Bishop paused, his expression shifting slightly as he furrowed his brows. "What could be so important that you must report it directly to the Grand Archbishop? Can you not tell me?"

Although the Bishop didn't spell it out, Herbert could see the hidden meaning in his eyes—What, do you look down on me?

"Yes, this matter is of great importance, and I fear only the Grand Archbishop can handle it." Seeing the Chief Inquisitor’s growing dissatisfaction, Herbert didn't play coy and said directly, "The situation is this: during my patrol yesterday, I discovered some anomalies in the third zone of the Alien Prison. The 'Prison of No Light' has completely transformed into a space that cannot be navigated. I am unable to find the prisoners suppressed within, nor can I enter the fourth zone."

Herbert quickly recounted his findings and the details of his attempts in full, even including his own speculations, leaving nothing out. Once he finished, Herbert looked at the Thorn Bishop with sincere eyes and asked earnestly, "Your Excellency, can this matter be left to you to handle?"

"..."

The Thorn Bishop fell silent, his gaze shifting slightly to look elsewhere. At this moment, Herbert tensed his expression, not daring to let anything slip.

*Look down on you? Don't be ridiculous. I just want to know if you can actually fix it.*

"Ahem... I understand the situation." After a long while, the Thorn Bishop nodded, his face unreadable, and said calmly, "This is not a major issue. There is no rush to deal with it. I will inform the Grand Archbishop later."

*Not a major issue? No rush?* Herbert caught the subtext but wisely chose not to call him out. He said gratefully, "Understood. I apologize for the trouble, Your Excellency."

The Thorn Bishop waved his hand, looking perfectly composed. "Hmm, it is nothing. It is what I should do."

"Very well, then I shall take my leave."

Just as Herbert finished his report and was about to turn away, the Thorn Bishop suddenly said in a low voice, "Wait."

"...Your Excellency?"

The Thorn Bishop’s scarlet eyes were fixed intently on him as he asked slowly:

"Have you... encountered any acts of blasphemy recently?"

!!?