Chapter 1 The Visitor

The visitor left as suddenly as he had arrived.

The old caretaker of the cemetery was somewhat dazed, watching the direction in which the flame had disappeared, his mind still filled with the information revealed during the brief conversation. It wasn't until Annie tugged at his sleeve that the old man suddenly snapped back to reality.

He lowered his head and saw Annie looking at him with some unease, her eyes filled with helplessness, nervousness, and confusion.

Perhaps she already understood the separation of life and death, but she couldn't fully comprehend what had just happened.

The old caretaker bent over, his aging, stiff joints aching slightly in the winter cold. He reached out and brushed the snowflakes off Annie's shoulder. "Annie, don't be afraid. Nothing bad has happened."

"Grandpa Caretaker..." The girl's lips moved, trying to find the right words, but she didn't know where to start. "That person just now..."

"Don't ask too much, don't think too much. Just like the textbooks say, don't pry into knowledge that isn't meant for mortals – just know that he was a visitor, he didn't mean you any harm, and now he's gone. Your connection with him ends here."

"Then my dad..."

"Your father probably did something very great, beyond all our imaginations," the old caretaker said softly, reaching out to pat the girl's hair. "Annie, don't worry anymore. He's no longer wandering at sea. He's gone to a better place. Go back and tell your mother. She's been waiting for this news for a long time."

The cemetery would not be open to the public today.

Annie pursed her lips, and after hesitating for a long time, she confirmed in a small voice, "This time, it's real?"

Annie nodded, seeming to understand, and then said goodbye to the old caretaker of the cemetery. She turned and walked towards the main road leading to the neighborhood, following the wheel tracks that had not yet frozen into ice, slowly heading home, slowly blending into the city's silver-clad background.

This was what the indescribable visitor had entrusted to him, instructing him to hand it over to the gatekeeper, Agatha, but also saying that as long as the message could be delivered to the Frost Cathedral, it would be sufficient – there was no mention of not allowing others to read the letter.

Inside the caretaker's cabin at Cemetery Number Three, the old caretaker made sure the door was locked and then went to the desk in the corner with a serious expression.

If it was just a matter of delivering a message, then he could read it and then relay it.

After arriving at the desk, he took out incense, essential oils, candles, and herbal powders from the drawer and began to set up a powerful altar.

Then he raised his hand and gently touched the item in his pocket – a letter that seemed to contain countless secrets lay quietly there.

He slowly sat down and completed a prayer in his heart before solemnly taking the letter out of his pocket.

The old man examined the envelope.

From an indescribable visitor, seemingly ordinary materials could also contain unimaginable knowledge and mysteries. What did this letter really mean?

The old man took a deep breath, fully prepared, and picked up the letter opener next to him, carefully opening the seemingly unremarkable envelope.

When dealing with indescribable knowledge, no amount of rigorous and complicated preparation was too much.

After all, the cemetery caretaker was the first line of defense leading to the cathedral.

With an unprecedented solemn expression and an almost martyrlike determination, the old caretaker slowly unfolded the letter.

A folded piece of paper slipped out of the envelope.

The three words "Whistleblower Letter" caught his eye.

The old caretaker breathed a sigh of relief, looking at the black flames burning on the candlesticks and the thin incense smoke that seemed to solidify in the air above the table. He could feel the power of Batok, the god of death, briefly descending into the cabin, the blessing force surrounding the desk, stabilizing the spatial and temporal order here, and also stabilizing his own spirit.

"...The young gatekeeper raised her cane and used the tin tip to poke at one of the fragments. The black, ceramic-like piece turned over on the ground with a crisp sound.

It flipped over, revealing about half a face, including the lips, the bridge of the nose, and one eye.

Even incomplete, it clearly captured the look of terror on the cultist's face at the moment of his death.

"Residents in the distance did not hear any fighting, but most were afraid to look. We can only determine the time and duration of the battle from their accounts – it probably happened after one in the morning, and lasted for less than three minutes."

So far, no known divine art or heretical magic could produce this effect. Even the various spells used by the abyssal demons did not have this strange phenomenon.

A priest inspecting the scene rose from the pile of debris, taking off his gloves as he nodded to Agatha. "An Annihilation Inquisitor who completed deep purification. Judging from the degree of flesh and blood distortion, he was not weak. Theoretically, even if he encountered a fully staffed team of twelve Guardians, he could have fought back and broken through, but he was quickly dealt with – and there are almost no signs of resistance."

The priest shook his head. "The simplest and most direct attack method, pure force. This makes it difficult to determine the other party's identity. However, we found some traces of normal water vapor dissolving in the distance. This may be the only clue."

A pile of remains, almost burned to charcoal, lay in the alley. Traces of intense fighting and explosions could be seen around the remains, covering a wide area. However, the battle was clearly overwhelming – and at the same time, it was a completely different fighting style from the pile of fragments at the alley entrance.

After pondering for a moment, she shook her head and walked towards another "scene" deeper in the alley.

A Guardian with short brown hair quickly walked into the alley and reported the situation to the priest.

"A situation was discovered in the house at number twenty-five," the priest said immediately. "A Senmin woman who was attacked by supernatural forces and fell into a coma, and a room contaminated by a strange object was found on the second floor of the house."

He also instructed the guards outside to be vigilant near the cabin and to set up sufficient defenses in the open space around the house – but that was not enough.

Agatha frowned slightly. "Can you tell what kind of opponent he was dealing with?"

"Water vapor dissolving... is that all there is?" Agatha said softly, looking back at the alley entrance. "Two completely different fighting styles."

Saying this, he paused and asked, "What about the investigation of the surrounding residents?"

A few minutes later, the altar was complete.

"Yes, one simple and direct, one strange and dangerous. The common point is that they are both very powerful – the heretics at the Inquisitor level had no chance to fight back," the priest nodded. "The only good news is that they are clearly enemies of the Annihilation Sect."

Agatha looked seriously at the shattered pieces on the ground. The cold wind blowing from the alley entrance stirred her long hair, and the cold air kept seeping into the gaps in her clothes and bandages. In this bone-chilling cold, the fear and despair of the two Annihilation cultists at the moment of their death seemed to solidify.

The old caretaker's eyes gradually became serious. He turned and returned to the cemetery, waving his hand behind him. The heavy iron gate closed with a creak.

And... a hint of a strange smile?

"Inside the building?" Hearing the subordinate's report, the priest frowned immediately and looked up at the building diagonally opposite the alley.

Just then, a slightly hurried footstep suddenly came from the side, interrupting the conversation between Agatha and the priest.

This was the quality of a veteran.

What kind of power could turn a person into porcelain-like fragments?

"The enemy of our enemy is not necessarily our friend," Agatha shook her head. "Moreover, they clearly have a tendency to hide their actions – not wanting to show their faces. This in itself is very alarming."

"No more news for the time being," the priest spread his hands. "I have also arranged for people to investigate the situation from house to house, including the alleys further away, to see if we can find any reports of strangers appearing, but Hearthstone Street is a very large district, and I estimate that there will be no results in the short term."

"Is that all? What about the others?"

Before the cemetery entrance, the old caretaker looked in the direction of the road for a long time, knowing that Annie's figure had disappeared at the intersection before he breathed a sigh of relief.

Lighting the candles in specific positions and adding essential oils and herbal powders, and blessing the entire desk with the scent of incense, then placing the incense burner in the middle of the candlesticks, constructing it according to the symbolism of the altar – he skillfully prepared all this, each movement as if he had practiced it thousands of times.

The child didn't fall this time.

Agatha frowned. He could see that the lips on the ceramic shards showed a suspicious arc, as if a peaceful and tranquil smile was about to emerge but was frozen in place – and this subtle arc and the fear in this eye appeared on the same face at the same time, making it even more eerie and terrifying.

Agatha immediately asked, "What's going on?"

Several Guardians were busy in the distance. The team that had come here to deal with the scene had blocked the entrances and exits of the alley, and personnel were investigating clues in the alleys in the distance – the evidence collection was proceeding in an orderly manner, but the confusion in Agatha's heart had not diminished.