Endless Debt Chapter 1611 - 112: Winds Rising

"Soul?"

Listening to the old man’s words, Melissa showed a confused expression. In her worldview, she had no concept of soul yet; she didn’t understand the value of a soul, nor its essence.

But in her conversation with the old man, Melissa could vaguely realize that the so-called soul must be something extremely sacred, far more precious than blood, and could even be traded for wishes, to obtain the sun.

"That’s right, to gain something, you inevitably have to lose something."

The old man gave her an example, "If you want to see the sun, there must be a sacrifice."

"I... I am willing."

Melissa agreed almost without hesitation; from any angle, this deal seemed extremely worthwhile to her.

"Is that so?"

The old man’s face showed disappointment, "Sorry, your soul alone is not enough."

Melissa moved closer to the old man, "What do you mean?"

"Literally, a soul is indeed precious, but one person’s soul is not enough to summon that sacred sun."

As the old man spoke, he took out a crumpled book from his bosom. Melissa recognized this book; during the church sermon, the priest had held such a book while declaring the existence of the sun to everyone.

He solemnly placed the book in Melissa’s arms. Confused, she opened the pages, seeing a dense array of characters. She had never received an education, naturally, she couldn’t read or write, but with a sudden pang in her mind, Melissa astonishingly found that those twisted characters were unfolding, as unfamiliar sounds came from her throat.

In just a few breaths, Melissa, as if she had received years of education, immediately understood these unfamiliar characters, arranging the words into sentences, reading them in her mind.

"What’s happening?"

Melissa looked at the old man in amazement; she understood her anomaly must be related to him.

The old man just kept smiling, raised his hand, and gently placed it on Melissa’s shoulder. He softly said, "One soul is not enough to trade for that purifying sun, but perhaps a group of souls could tilt the scales of balance..."

Melissa belatedly realized, "Are you wanting me... wanting me to persuade more souls for you?"

"No, this has nothing to do with me. I am merely providing you a way to fulfill your wish; how to proceed is up to you."

The old man said, extending his withered finger, pressing it heavily on Melissa’s chest, only a thin layer of flesh and blood separating it from her slowly beating heart.

"The moment of decision has arrived, Melissa."

After saying these words, the old man seemed to lose all his strength, his body weakeningly leaned backward, collapsing in the damp, cold corner.

Melissa wanted to assist the old man but found he had stopped breathing, his body quickly becoming cold, like a hard stone.

Death.

Melissa had faced death many times already. She thought, by now, no matter how soft her heart was, it should have turned cold and numb. Yet now she felt her chest twitch slightly, a faint aching sensation transmitted.

Smoothing the old man’s wrinkled forehead, covering his eyes, Melissa leaned beside his corpse, opened the book in her hands, a series of prayer-like words appeared before her; it was exactly what the priest had spoken of earlier.

Outside the prison, Blood Tax officers anxiously paced at the edge of the Butcher’s Pit, where bodies piled into mountains, blood flowed like streams, dried and solidified pools of blood grew like clumps of crimson fungi.

Devon hid in the shadows of buildings, vigilantly observing the changes around the Butcher’s Pit. Under the Night Race’s orders, Blood Tax officers pulled open the heavy iron gate, dragging one blood civilian after another from the prison, ordering them to line up, then escorting them deeper into the Butcher’s Pit.

The stench of blood wafted from the depths of the Butcher’s Pit.

Devon didn’t know what was happening there, but he knew that those blood civilians and Blood Tax officers sent would never return, faintly hearing the roars of monsters and humans’ painful wails.

This place was Hell, a Hell without hope of escape.

Devon understood clearly, now he was no different from the imprisoned blood civilians, they would all face cruel deaths; the only difference was in timing.

Yet even so, Devon still felt pity for the blood civilians’ plight, and his mind was more concerned with Melissa.

"Melissa! Melissa!"

Taking advantage of no one noticing, Devon leaned against a narrow window, calling out Melissa’s name, but in the cold, deep darkness, no response came.

Devon was certain Melissa hadn’t been taken out; she should still be inside the prison... Of course, Melissa might have already died in this crowded, damp environment, the lives of blood civilians were so fragile and small, like withered weeds.

But Devon still hadn’t given up hope; he kept calling Melissa’s name, a clumsy plan appearing in his mind, he attempted to bring Melissa out of this place, even if doomed to die in the Land of Eternal Night, Devon hoped he could die with Melissa on the road to escape, preferably at the edge of the Angry Sea, to glimpse that sacred sun.

Yes, it’s a thousand times better than dying in this cold place.