bookcurios Chapter 829 - 451: Inquisition
Chapter 829 - 451: Inquisition
The Central Square of the capital of Southeast Province seemed as though it had been dragged into a melting Alchemy Furnace.
The sky was no longer blue; thick smoke from burning wood and grease had turned the dome a sickly wax yellow, making even the sunlight appear murky and hesitant.
The air was filled with a nauseating odor, a mix of the burnt smell of roasted meat, the acrid scent of charred fabric, and the overpowering fragrance of Golden Feather Flower.
This fragrance, originally meant to mask the stench of corpses, had now become the prelude to death, causing one’s stomach to convulse upon the first sniff.
In the center of the square, three black iron gallows stood tall.
Beneath the gallows, piles of wood processed through alchemy lay scattered, with their grain painted a uniform dark brown, clearly reused for such occasions.
Bound to the gallows were three elderly men.
Despite their disheveled state, with tangled hair and faces covered in soot and sweat, their dignified contours, characteristic of the Nobility, remained visible.
The torn ceremonial attire clung loosely to their bodies, despite its shredded fabric, some corner still retained ancient patterns.
A medal symbolizing generations of family honor hung on each of their chests, a symbol exclusive to the old Nobility, glimmering dimly yet defiantly amidst the dust.
At their feet lay evidence collected from the secret rooms of various families.
The old Dragon Ancestor stone sculpture had its nose broken off; scrolls made from dragon skin were trampled into the dirt, and several ancient dragon scale talismans once revered across generations were carelessly tossed onto the woodpile, reflecting a weak cold light.
These items, once deemed sacred vestiges of honor and protection, were now trampled like garbage, used as kindling.
There was no judge’s seat in the square, nor was there any defense.
Only one Judicial Court priest in a golden robe stood before the gallows.
His robe glowed with a gentle golden sheen in the firelight, his face displaying an almost compassionate indifference.
In his hand was a long-handled golden spoon, filled with viscous golden grease, flowing slowly in the light.
A spell amplified his voice, spreading it across the entire square, every word clear and solemn.
"Fire shall not burn the innocent," the priest declared, as if stating a truth, "If the Dragon Ancestor you speak of is a true God, it shall extinguish this mortal flame."
He paused briefly, allowing the words to ferment in the air.
"If it does not come, it proves it is a false god, a lie woven by demons."
With those words, the priest raised the golden spoon.
Golden grease poured down from above, flowing gently over the Count’s grayed hair, across their wrinkled cheeks, seemingly coating them with a false radiance before their death.
The grease dripped onto their attire and the wood, creating a faint and sticky sound.
The crowd in the square roared in response.
The vast throng of tens of thousands seemed divided by an invisible wall.
On the side closer to the gallows was a sea of fanaticism, filled mostly with young people or lightly clothed plebeians.
Many among them had drunk the gold soup bestowed by the Church Court, with pupils reflecting an unnatural golden glow, their emotions heightened to an almost frenzied state.
They waved the branches in their hands, like celebrating a festival.
"Burn them!"
"Purify the Southeast!"
"Sweep the garbage of the old era into Hell!"
The chants grew louder wave after wave.
In their eyes, having the once high Nobility bound to the gallows was a sweet revenge.
Yet on the edge of the crowd, there was a starkly different presence.
These were mostly older people, or the covert worshippers of old gods.
They pulled down their hat brims, huddled their necks, trembling uncontrollably, yet dared not utter a sound.
An elderly woman with a face full of wrinkles stood on the outermost edge of the crowd.
Her hand hidden in her tattered sleeve tightly gripped a crude wooden dragon amulet.
The firelight reflecting in her clouded eyes, she dared not cry aloud, allowing tears to silently slide down.
Her lips moved slightly, yet uttered no sound.
"Dragon Ancestor... open your eyes and see..."
The prayer was yet unfinished when it was killed by the power beside her.
A hand reached from the side, pressing firmly on her shoulder.
Her daughter whispered harshly into her ear with fear and anger, "Are you out of your mind? Want to doom the whole family?!"
Not far away, someone subconsciously stepped forward, trying to break out from the crowd, but was immediately pulled back by several hands.
There were even young faces fiercely covering their parents’ mouths, eyes filled with terror.
"Boom—!"
What rose was not regular crimson flames but a dazzling gold fire.
This was a peculiar flame modulated by the Church’s Alchemist, emitting a distorted hum at high temperature, bleaching even shadows white.
The flames seemed to contain a low thrum, as though directly licking at souls.
All three gallows ignited simultaneously.
"Ahhhh!"
Cries of agony burst forth, yet were unlike any sound humans could make.
Even those who had been cheering fanatically just moments ago faltered for an instant, smiles frozen on their faces.
Beneath the gallows, the ancient dragon scale talisman, once seen as symbols of honor and faith, began to change under the blaze of the golden fire.
The scales, previously hard and proclaimed resistant to blades and arrows, first tinged with a strange dark red at the edges, then began to soften, curl, squirm like a living thing.
Ultimately, they could no longer maintain their shape.
Black, viscous fluid dripped from the talisman, hitting the scorching stone floor with a faint "sizzling" sound.