Chapter 83: Chapter 87 Fenna’s Investigation Conclusion
The meeting hall was left with only the scattered corpses of the heretics, and no evidence that could prove the identity of the assailants was found, which presented great difficulty for the investigation.
But one thing was certain: the perpetrator of this attack was definitely not an ordinary human.
A special pungent smell lingered in the air, a sign that the “fire” had been contaminated.
Fenna carefully examined the oil lamps left in the basement; nearby, a priest took out special powders and potions from a toolkit to analyze whether the oil lamps contained substances that should not exist in the real world.
Fire is the most special thing in this world.
Fire represents visible order, the handwriting when gods established the covenant for the world, the proof that “civilization still exists”—the burning flame leaves marks on everything that changes.
If a transcendent-level battle had occurred here, traces of it would definitely have lingered in the flames.
After the priest got busy, Fenna returned to the center of the basement, looking at the body of a Sun Heretic who had died there.
“Several dozen fractures throughout the skeleton, as if struck directly by a rampaging bull; it’s hard to imagine what kind of weapon could cause this,” a forensic officer nearby said. “Pure brute force blunt trauma, no traces of any spell.”
“Brute force blunt trauma… enough to break dozens of bones in one hit?” Fenna frowned slightly. “What is this? A one-meter-diameter meteor hammer?”
The forensic officer shook his head. “More suspicious than that is the ash at the end there.”
Fenna walked to the end of the basement and saw the “ash” the other was talking about.
A complete set of clothes was scattered on the ground, amidst fine black ash, suggesting an easy thought—that a person had once laid here.
“Undoubtedly, it’s some kind of transcendent power; judging from the traces, it could be a variant of aberrant flames,” Fenna assessed briefly, then spoke to the forensic officer beside her, “Ordinary flames couldn’t turn a person to ash like this while completely preserving the clothes.”
“The wall shows impacts; this heretic seems to have been slammed into the wall by a great force, then incinerated by flames,” said another priest on the scene. “This heretic alone was killed by a transcendent power here—and it’s a type of transcendent power we’ve never seen before.
“Moreover, we found a spot on the basement floor severely corroded by an unknown force, but no residual physical substances were found. This might also be the effect of a transcendent power.”
“It could be a spell cast by someone, or it could be from an anomalous object,” Fenna offhandedly noted. “Was this place discovered because of a report by a citizen?”
“Yes, an attentive citizen heard unusual noises at the abandoned factory during the transition from day to night, and reported to the rotating city guards and protectors at the street corner,” the priest nodded in response. “These heretics actually covered their tracks well upon entering the City-State and successfully infiltrated the Lower City District. They would have likely continued hiding if not for this attack.”
“Now that one hideout has been exposed, it likely means there are more hidden in the shadows,” Fenna said solemnly. “The seedy alleys of the Lower City District are the focus of this period’s investigation. We need to…”
Before she could finish, a protector hurriedly approached from the side, holding something in their hand. “Judge, take a look at this!”
Fenna immediately looked up and saw that the protector was holding a small tray containing several blood-stained, slightly deformed copper bullets.
“We found two revolvers that had been fired at the scene. These bullets were likely fired from those guns,” the protector reported, “The blood on the bullets is most likely from the assailants!”
Fenna’s gaze fell on the bullets, and she instantly noticed the deformation of the bullet heads—the bullets were stained with blood, indicating they had entered flesh and blood bodies, yet their compressed and deformed state suggested it was not caused by soft, fragile flesh.
Unless each bullet had struck bone, or… the person shot possessed extremely strong physical strength.
And how did these bullets, already lodged in a body, end up at the scene?
Fenna thought carefully and concluded there were only two possibilities: either the assailants had performed bullet-removal surgery on themselves at the scene, or the assailants had special physical abilities that allowed them to forcibly eject the bullets from their bodies.
Regardless of the possibility, one thing was clear: this powerful assailant, despite being shot numerous times, had effortlessly eliminated all heretics here and calmly removed the bullets from their body after the incident.
Fenna looked at her own hands.
She was capable of doing such things but, precisely because she could, she understood how immensely challenging it was for mere mortals of flesh and blood.
“The ones who killed these heretics must have been a Transcendent with significantly enhanced physical abilities, using some type of large blunt weapon,” Fenna turned and spoke to an attendant after pondering, “The opponent is experienced, resolute, and extremely strong. Considering the weapon used, the individual is likely very tall and may possess some sort of fire power. Our initial assumption places them as enemies of the Sun Heretic, but it’s unclear if they stand with us…
“Notify all guards and law officers to be on the lookout for anyone fitting the above description. If a suspect is spotted, report back first, and avoid rash contact.”
The attending guard bowed his head immediately, “Yes, Judge.”
Fenna exhaled softly, roughly sketching in her mind what the assailant who had disrupted the gathering might look like: a two-meter-tall man wielding a giant Wolf Fang Club or meteor hammer, skilled in combat and steadfast, with the ability to summon flames.
It should be something like that.
…
Duncan smiled as he saw off the second customer of the day, watching the plump lady walk away slowly, feeling quite pleased.
The lady was a regular at the store, and today she had taken a liking to a pair of vases that she wanted as a gift for her new neighbors.
The vases, sourced from a wholesale market, were produced last week but had an eight-hundred-year history—originally priced at over two hundred thousand, discounted to twenty-six thousand, including a pair of stone sculptures from the Soland Dynasty that were manufactured last Wednesday.
The regular customer knew the items were fake, but she believed Duncan the store owner was genuine all the way.
After throwing several crumpled banknotes into a drawer, Duncan sat down behind the counter, feeling slightly more at ease.
At least for now, running this antique store was a novel and intriguing affair for him.
Of course, the financial gains from such small transactions were limited—the two vases along with the two sculptures earned him just over six solars, and only two customers had visited the shop all morning. He wasn’t sure if this “customer traffic” was good or bad on an ordinary day, but it obviously wasn’t as promising as reporting heretics.
Duncan partly focused on Ai Yi’s situation.
The pigeon was currently flying low over the fourth district. Unfortunately, the Sun Amulet tied to its back hadn’t shown any response so far.
This was normal—while many heretics had infiltrated the Plunder City-State, they weren’t so widespread that they were everywhere. Moreover, they dispersed their activities deliberately, hiding in forgotten nooks and crannies, making them hard to spot.
Hunting required patience, after all.
Duncan leisurely enjoyed the quiet moment, keeping an eye on the pigeon while occasionally checking on the Homeloss or controlling his own body aboard the ship to stroll on the deck, watching Alice hilariously scramble as she fought with the oddities on board. Suddenly, he felt his peculiar life wasn’t too bad.
Just then, a crisp and pleasant ring of the doorbell came from the front door, interrupting his idle musings.
“Welcome.”
As Duncan casually greeted, he looked up towards the entrance and saw an elderly gentleman with graying hair pushing the door open.
This was a meticulously dressed old man, wearing a crisp and clean deep brown coat, shiny leather shoes, and carrying an indiscernible black cane, with hair and bow tie immaculately styled.
His attire didn’t seem typical of the Lower City District; it rather resembled something from the Cross District or even the Upper City District.
Duncan didn’t have much concept of the so-called “respectable people” of this world, but he could tell at a glance that this gentleman was not an ordinary customer.
“See anything you like?” he smiled, playing the part of a genuine antique shop owner, “If it’s fated, take it with you.”