Chapter 157: Industry Upgrade

Chapter 157 Industrial Upgrade

The blood-seeking aberrations were a highly singular collective.

They expanded and passed down their legacy through clans, venerating the primogenitors of their respective bloodlines; to a certain degree, they differed in no fundamental way from human families bound by ancestral worship. Yet, in the scriptures of the orthodox churches, they remained resolutely confined to the classification of aberrations.

Part of the reason lay in their own supreme hubris, preferring to be labeled "aberrations" rather than see themselves "degraded" to the level of mere humanity;

a more complex and profound cause, however, was rooted in the annals of history.

During the previous epoch, the blood-seeking aberrations had once flourished to such an extent that they controlled several nations of considerable population and territory. While proliferating their own kind on a grand scale, they gradually evolved into a "royal caste" and a "divine lineage" revered and worshiped by the common populace, marking the absolute zenith of their power.

The turning point from prosperity to decline came when the Church of Light issued a grand decree, directly branding the blood-seeking aberrations as "darkness" and "heresy";

immediately following this, the Church of Order responded to the call of Light, spearheading the declaration of war against the aberration race.

In the secular world, other nations formed a grand coalition, launching a crusade against the realms under aberration dominion.

The outcome was predestined;

even had the blood-seeking aberrations stood as an unyielding monolith, they could never have been a match for the Church of Order, let alone the fact that they were already fractured by internal strife at the time;

yet, in contrast to the collapse of the "royal caste," the secular forces, despite their ultimate defeat, managed to wage several classic, victorious campaigns—tales of triumph that, even after an entire epoch had passed, still endured as legends whispered across the ancient lands.

Though those human military commanders were culturally branded with the stigma of the "blood-seeking aberrations," it did nothing to obscure a certain charisma they possessed, making them highly sought after by artists and writers;

especially in modern times, with the advancement of cinema, such tales were brazenly brought to the silver screen, where generals symbolizing the darkness were actually portrayed as tragically devoted lovers.

Since that era, the former "royal caste" had dwindled into mere hidden clans. Faced with the absolute suppression of the various churches, they could only develop in the shadows of obscure corners, and it was rare to hear of any blood-seeking aberration entering human society.

This state of affairs remained entirely unaltered even after the demise of the Church of Light in the current epoch, for though Light had vanished, Order still stood tall.

Just as the Mural Goddess, Rielsa, remained an evil deity and her cult an blasphemous sect, how could the descendants ever grant a second chance to a rival their ancestors had crushed?

The phrase "when will vengeance ever end" was generally reserved for situations where the adversary had already risen again; if one could keep pressing a foot down upon the opponent's neck, the phrase would never find an occasion to be used.

At present, the manner of this female aberration's death was indeed hideous and terrifying. As an employee of the funeral parlor and a divine servant, Pick had certainly seen his share of the world, but no amount of psychological fortitude could withstand such a sudden, ghastly revelation while one was relieving oneself.

At long last, Pick managed to steady his emotions. A wave of belated shame washed over him; he had actually been frightened to such a state by a dead aberration, and right in front of this master, no less.

He stood up immediately, but forgot that his fly was still undone, causing a sudden, disastrous entanglement;

"Ohhhhhhhh!"

In an instant, a cry far more wretched than his previous scream echoed through the room, and he began hopping frantically on the spot.

Dincom completely ignored his companion and turned to Karen, asking, "Boss, what should we do about this?"

"You're asking me what to do?" Karen countered. "Why don't you go call the police?"

"Uh..."

Dincom suddenly realized that their establishment was not just a simple funeral parlor; matters involving aberrations fell squarely under the jurisdiction of their own Inquisitorial branch. How had he managed to forget that?

Karen stepped forward, closely inspecting the corpse. The silver spike had pierced through the chest, pinning the body to the wall.

The position where this silver spike entered seemed rather peculiar...

Karen instinctively gestured against his own chest to compare, but failed to deduce any specific abnormality.

Next, Karen gripped the protruding end of the silver spike, preparing to wrench it free and bring the body down.

Dincom cautioned, "Boss, watch out for blood contamination."

Clearly, Dincom recognized the blood-seeking aberrations and knew their blood possessed an immensely potent corrupting quality, though he remained ignorant of "Karen's" true nature.

Drawing from his previous experience beneath the sausage factory, Karen was certain that while his body might not be completely impervious to all poisons, ordinary corruption held essentially no sway over him.

All of this, of course, was thanks to his own hound.

He applied force and pulled, but it did not budge.

"Hold me," Karen commanded.

"Yes, Boss." Dincom walked over and braced Karen by the waist. Karen propped one leg firmly against the wall and pulled with renewed strength; finally, the silver spike was wrenched out.

The corpse slid downward with the movement, falling into a kneeling posture inside the bathtub, its head slumped forward.

"Cast a purification on yourselves, then transport her back on the gurney."

"Yes, Boss."

"Right away, Boss."

Pick had finally recovered from his agony. Joining Dincom, he began to incant, and a faint, dark radiance manifested around both of them.

Fortified by the purification blessing, the two men set to work lifting the corpse, first moving it out of the washroom and then setting it upon the gurney.

"Clean up the washroom as well, leave no blood behind. Once it is swept clean, perform another purification inside," Karen instructed.

"Yes, Boss."

The cleanup was swiftly completed. Shortly thereafter, the two men carried the corpse down the stairs, one at the front and one at the rear. After placing the body into the hearse and wrapping it securely in a white shroud, both sank to the ground, panting heavily.

Today, they were truly exhausted, not merely in body but in spirit.

Karen retrieved three bottles of citric acid soda from beneath the driver's seat and handed one to each of them.

"Thank you, Boss."

"Thank you... Boss..."

They used their teeth to bite off the caps, while Karen wedged his bottle cap against a protruding ridge on the edge of the hearse and jerked downward. The cap popped off, but a flake of paint peeled away from the body of the modified hearse, which had already weathered many seasons.

Not only did the name of the funeral parlor need changing, but it was also high time to replace the hearse.

Uncle Mason had once said that only men with the mindset of the nouveau riche would compete and flaunt luxury cars; that which truly bore the ultimate weight of life was the hearse alone.

He simply did not know if Madame Lake held enough reles in her possession—likely not, otherwise they wouldn't have rushed so eagerly to snatch up work during the previous tram explosion.

On his own end, there seemed to be a lack of funds as well, but it was impossible for him to take points to the black market to exchange for reles; he would be treated as a fool.

"My head is spinning," Pick remarked.

Dincom nodded in agreement.

Karen looked at them, thinking to himself: It turns out divine servants are this weak.

Likely because for a long time now, he had used himself as the sole yardstick, making it inevitable that his perception was somewhat distorted from reality.

When he was a divine servant, he could employ several spells simultaneously, whereas they had merely maintained a basic purification spell for a slightly extended duration and were already on the verge of mental exhaustion.

Nevertheless, Dincom stood up. "Boss, should I go investigate the owner of this house?"

Karen shook his head. "No need. To dare call us directly to collect a corpse means they aren't worried about what we might uncover through this house. Don't waste the effort; finish your soda and let us head back."

They all drained their sodas. Though Pick was thoroughly spent, he struggled to his feet and gathered the three empty bottles.

Karen remained at the wheel, while Pick and Dincom sat in the back, one on each side, facing the corpse draped in the white shroud.

"I've heard that if you're bitten by a blood-seeking aberration, you can achieve immortality?" Pick asked cautiously.

Dincom nodded. "There does seem to be such a rumor."

Then, both of them fixed their gaze upon Karen as he drove.

Karen spoke calmly, "Only if a high-ranking blood-seeking aberration is willing to grant you the First Embrace can your lineage be converted, allowing you to obtain the trait of eternal youth to a certain extent. However, the extension of actual lifespan is quite negligible, and it may even be curtailed because of it. Furthermore, the number of First Embraces a high-ranking aberration can bestow in a lifetime is exceedingly small and fixed.

As for being bitten by an ordinary blood-seeking aberration, you will only gain a certain probability of being corrupted. And as for the consequences of corruption, I believe you both know full well."

Hearing this explanation, Pick and Dincomb instinctively drew their necks back.

All of this, Karen had read in Mr. Hoffen's notes, where Mr. Hoffen had also offered his own perspective. He believed that the reason the blood-seeking aberrant demon families could not be classified under the family belief system was also due to another very important factor: other families relied on bloodline reproduction to acquire family members, whereas they could expand their membership through blood assimilation or contamination. This single point destined them to be forever isolated by the orthodox church.

However, now that this thing had been loaded into the car and brought back by himself, what should be done next?

Pondering while driving, Karen finally thought of the most suitable method:

Drench it in gasoline and burn it directly!

Actually, there were channels for turning it in. According to the records in Mr. Pavaro's work notebook, handing the corpse of an aberrant demon over to the church would yield a reward, because the corpses of aberrant demons and priests were themselves a type of material.

But the problem was, Karen had seen a passage like this in the work notebook:

"The weather is nice today. I drove the hearse to hand over a recently discovered aberrant demon corpse to the processing station and completed the registration. Next month's allowance will increase by 50 Order Vouchers."

Fifty Order Vouchers!

Were they dismissing a beggar?

Karen felt that the basic grassroots system of the Church of Order had major problems. A divine servant received a monthly allowance of 100 Order Vouchers, and a seventh-class inquisitor only got 1000.

Oh, now he was a fifth-class inquisitor, so his salary had increased, becoming 1200 Order Vouchers a month. Plus, since he was also his own divine servant, drawing an empty salary, he could add 100 divine servant allowance.

In other words, by "working" in the Church of Order, his monthly revenue in Order Vouchers was only 1300.

When his own cat and dog played with a scroll, a single one cost 1000 Order Vouchers.

Only now did Karen truly understand why Pu'er had said in the beginning that using the Allen family as a "supporting family" was very necessary, because income and expenses were truly disproportionate.

Therefore, Karen felt that handing this female blood-seeking aberrant demon corpse over just for a reward of 50 Order Vouchers was somewhat unworthy. Since the other party had called hoping their funeral parlor would collect the corpse, they certainly knew the true identity of their funeral parlor. To offend someone hiding behind the scenes for 50 Order Vouchers felt like a loss no matter how he calculated it.

So, since you called the funeral parlor, I will collect the corpse for you, then burn the body, put the ashes in an urn, and the whole matter will be accounted for.

After all, he had just listed his recent plans this afternoon, so Karen's choices and trade-offs were very clear now.

The hearse drove back to the funeral parlor, and the corpse was carried down.

Mrs. Lake was already standing there waiting to receive it, but Karen reached out directly to push her away:

"There is something unusual about this corpse. You cannot touch it."

"Oh, alright." Mrs. Lake stepped back very obediently.

"Pick, find some gasoline to burn the corpse directly. Dincomb, go to the crematorium to buy a better urn, don't get a cheap one."

"We have urns at home," Mrs. Lake said. "Two of them, and both are of good quality."

Karen froze for a moment. Previously, there were two decent coffins stored at home, and now there were two decent urns stored away.

So, the coffins and the urns were all prepared for the two daughters?

Considering the contamination issue on the two daughters, burying them in coffins might cause the contamination to leak, so urns were also prepared.

"They won't be needing them anymore," Karen comforted.

"Yes, I know." A smile appeared on Mrs. Lake's face as well. "I am not reluctant to part with them. I hope they are used up sooner."

The stretcher cart and the corpse were placed on the mortuary table, while Karen walked into the backyard. Would burning a corpse here arouse the suspicion of the nearby residents?

But there was a small boiler at home. If it was burned here, would anyone dare to use this boiler in the future?

Just then, the telephone inside the funeral parlor rang.

Dincomb, holding the urn in his arms, walked over preparing to answer the phone. Just as he was about to pick up the receiver, he was stopped by Karen's gaze, and he immediately nodded and walked away.

Karen walked over and picked up the receiver:

"Hello, Pavaro Funeral Parlor."

"Excuse me, are you Inquisitor Pavaro?"

"I am... yes."

"Has my wife's body been collected by you?"

"Yes, it has been collected."

"Lord Inquisitor, can I request you to help arrange a decent funeral for my wife?"

"I will place the urn in a certain spot, and you can go retrieve it yourself when the time comes."

"But, you run a funeral parlor and not a crematorium. What I want is a decent funeral."

"I'm sorry, I think you also clearly know what kind of identity your wife possessed. It is very difficult for me to manage."

"My wife was lost."

"Unfortunate."

"She foresaw that after losing herself, she wouldn't be able to resist killing people to suck blood. So, she pinned herself to the wall with silver nails."

"Your wife was a good person."

Karen recalled the strange feeling he had when he first observed the corpse at close range—the position where the silver nails pierced into the chest turned out to be for this reason.

"I owe her a lot. I hope she can be more at peace when she departs.

Mr. Pavaro, I know you are a righteous person and a kind person. I have heard some things about you, which is why I called you.

I beg of you, please help me..."

A righteous person, a kind person?

Who told him that?

The people who knew about this matter were actually few. Judge Qiheshu's group had already been dealt with, and the credit for this matter had already been harvested by Vikole.

In the entire affair, he was merely a decorative accompaniment to Vikole.

The scope of the circle was suddenly narrowed down again.

Those who truly knew the facts of this matter recently amounted to only three people. Vikole definitely wouldn't go around talking about the truth recklessly. Deputy Director Miang? He wouldn't either.

So... only one person was left again.

Karen spoke up:

"Sigh, the Captain is really making trouble for me."

"I am very sorry. I begged the Captain for a long time before he told me that the Blue Bridge Community Inquisitorial Funeral Parlor might be willing to help arrange my wife's funeral affairs, because you, Inquisitor Pavaro, are a good person."

It really was Neo!!!

Now, Karen was somewhat in a dilemma, because he could not make a choice according to his own thoughts, but instead needed to put himself into Mr. Pavaro's standpoint.

If Mr. Pavaro encountered this kind of situation, what would he do?

An aberrant demon who foresaw her impending loss of control and committed suicide in advance to prevent herself from slaughtering after losing herself.

"The funeral expenses, I will give them to you, Lord Inquisitor. I beg of you, Lord Inquisitor." The voice on the other end of the phone was still pleading.

Funeral expenses?

Karen's gaze narrowed slightly, and he immediately spoke into the receiver with earnest and well-meaning words:

"It is not a matter of funeral expenses, and I do not lack that bit of Riels..."

"I know, I know. How could the Lord Inquisitor lack Riels."

Actually, I am desperately short of Rael.

The funeral home needs a renovation according to my own standards, the backyard needs to be rebuilt, a proper study is a must and can no longer be converted from a bedroom, and there is no telling where the money for a new hearse will come from.

“I only have some Abyss Vouchers here, not many, but it is the only way I can express my gratitude...”

Sure enough, there are vouchers!

“This is not a matter of vouchers; this kind of behavior is not permitted, and I would bear immense responsibility for it.”

“I know, I know, that is why I came to beg you. No other funeral home would ever perform a funeral for my wife. I beg of you...”

“Alas.” Karen let out a sigh. “I greatly respect your wife. She truly was a venerable woman. I feel that such a person deserves a dignified funeral.”

“You... you agree?”

“Yes, I agree.”

“Thank you, thank you so much, I am truly so grateful to you.”

“Now, please tell me what style of funeral your wife would prefer so that I may prepare. Is it red?”

“No, she liked white. She believed white represents purity.”

“Very well, I understand. Your wife’s funeral will be scheduled for the day after tomorrow. The day after tomorrow, in the evening.”

“Alright, alright. I express my gratitude to you once again, Great Inquisitor.”

“Then that is all. Goodbye.”

Karen hung up the telephone.

Whew... a funeral for a deviant demon is about to happen.

The next time I call Uncle Mason, could I perhaps tell him quite proudly:

Your nephew has made something of himself,

And in a foreign land, for the family's traditional business, he has achieved... an industrial upgrade.

———

More to come tonight.