Ashes Of Deep Sea-Chapter 287 - 291: Seeing Through

Chapter 287 -291: Seeing Through

Upon hearing these words from the Reaper Priest before him, the old caretaker didn’t cooperate as Tomb Guardians usually do right away, but frowned in discontent: “I am the guardian of the cemetery, I’ve never heard that actions in the cemetery require the caretakers to leave.”

“The situation is peculiar, old man,” the short-statured man in black moved half a step forward and spoke with a serious and sincere tone. Upon seeing the stubborn expression on the old caretaker’s face, he finally sighed, “Well, actually, I shouldn’t be telling you this—the body needs to be sent to the Tranquil Cathedral.”

“Tranquil Cathedral?” the old caretaker asked incredulously, “what is this about…”

“It’s a severe case of unknown pollution, possibly related to something deep within the mines. We have to perform a special cleansing ritual, and the fewer living people present, the better,” the short man said sternly, “not just you must leave, but my colleague and I must also avoid the area with you.”

During this exchange, the tall and sturdy man among the men in black also stepped forward, silently joining the short man’s side.

The old guardian looked over the two black-clad priests, then turned to the black-dressed woman standing by the mortuary table—who had already taken out ritual herbs and holy oil from her belongings and had begun setting up a temporary altar in front of the table.

“Alright, if it involves the mines and pollution, then this isn’t my responsibility,” the old man finally gave up his stubbornness. He shrugged his shoulders, put away his shotgun, and turned to walk down the cemetery path before calling back to the two men, one tall and one short, “Come on, I have some hot tea in my cabin, and you can warm yourselves by the fire. The graveyard at night is colder than outside.”

The two men in black exchanged a glance, following the old man they casually remarked, “Then we thank you for your hospitality, old man.”

The two men in black left with the old caretaker, leaving only the thin-lipped, black-dressed woman and another silent and lean man by the mortuary table.

And a coffin that had just quieted down.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

Duncan lay quietly within the coffin, pondering the conversation he had just had with the caretaker, and speculating about the newcomers who had appeared.

On his landing journey with Frost… it was indeed different from that with Prand, although not going smoothly, it held a peculiar charm nonetheless.

The only dissatisfaction he had was the poor performance efficiency of this physical body.

Inside the coffin, Duncan moved his hand slightly, watching a small green flame dance at his fingertips, illuminating this narrow space.

Fortunately, the fire of the Spiritual Body was unaffected.

In the flickering green light, he saw cheap, low-quality wooden planks, coarse linen linings, and densely packed runes on the coffin lid, including a triangular insignia in the center—that must have been the mark of the god of death, Bartok.

The runes and insignia were obviously not some “noble handcraft” but seemed to have been stamped on by machine; anyway, the effect was roughly the same.

Duncan pricked up his ears, carefully listening to the sounds outside the coffin.

The coffin was thin, and not well sealed, allowing him to clearly hear the conversations outside; he had just heard the sounds of the caretaker and the two unexpected guests departing, and now he could hear some rustling noises, seeming to be from those left behind moving around the coffin.

What were they up to?

The black-dressed woman stopped her work of setting up the altar in front of the mortuary table.

She stood up, looked towards the direction where the stubborn old caretaker had gone, and after confirming he was far away, she spat on the ground beside her, then stepped towards the coffin.

The “altar” she had just arranged was carelessly trampled over, the powdered herbs and the ceramic container holding the oil being kicked aside.

The silent black-dressed man had already reached the side of the coffin, flicking his carried cane which promptly extended a metallic crook from its end, turning into a crowbar.

“Wait a moment,” the woman raised her hand to stop her colleague and then approached the coffin, curling her finger to knock, “Are you still there?”

“Ah, yes,” Duncan immediately replied, “what’s the matter?”

The woman frowned slightly, seemingly confused, but then she spoke emotionlessly, “Do you know who you are?”

“…Not really,” Duncan bluffed, “Actually I’m still confused. I don’t even know how I ended up here, and just earlier, a man guarding the cemetery said I was already dead and that I would be burned in three days… What really happened? And what are you doing?”

“Ah, we are here to help you,” the woman in black said indifferently, “you wouldn’t want to be burned, would you?”

“Of course not—although winters in Frost are indeed cold, warming up in a cremation furnace is a bit too challenging. Are you going to let me out?”

“Your cold jokes are as cold as this night, sir,” the woman in black laughed, “Of course, we will let you out. Then you just need to follow us, and you won’t have to worry about anyone bothering you anymore.”

“Thank you very much.” The voice inside the coffin said politely.

The woman in black composed herself, took a slight step back, and nodded to a silent man holding a crowbar, “Pry it open.”

The silent man stepped forward and with creaking and squeaking sounds, the already fragile coffin was quickly opened. Then he used his cane to push, shoving the dark coffin lid completely aside.

The wooden board slid off the platform and fell heavily onto the gravel ground.

The woman in black raised a finger to her lips in a silencing motion, but a hoarse, low grunt came from her throat, which didn’t sound human.

As she made the “silence” gesture, the lid falling to the ground didn’t make a sound; within the blink of an eye, the heavy wooden board turned into black dust that scattered with the wind and quietly disappeared into the night.

Then, the man and woman in black lifted their heads to look towards the wide-open coffin.

A man with a pale complexion, large hands and feet, dressed in a dark brown coat, sat up inside, curiously looking at them.

After a while, Duncan revealed a faint smile on his face, murmuring softly, “Ah, seems like things are getting interesting.”

“What did you say?” the woman in black frowned, then immediately stiffened her face, commanding in a low voice that seemed to carry strange power, “Come out first and leave this place with us.”

“No rush,” Duncan, sitting in the coffin, smiled and shook his head, “The chains on you are quite unique—your Profound Demons are quite peculiar too; I thought that thing was only for dogs.”

The man and woman in black were taken aback upon hearing this, and the next second, they looked at each other in shock. The woman, with thin lips, even instinctively took a half-step back, staring at Duncan sitting in the coffin in astonishment and wariness, “You can see through our disguises?!”

“Disguises?”

Duncan raised his eyebrows, eyes sweeping over the two in front of him—

A woman dressed in a dark long dress, with a gaunt and sharp face. A black chain emerged between her neck and collarbone, clearly integrated with her body, extending straight out from the collarbone. At the end of the chain was a grotesque bird made of pitch-black bone pieces twisted together.

The bird, with black smoke rising from its body, was perched steadily on the woman’s shoulder, its two blood-red hollows fixedly staring at Duncan, and every bone in its body trembled slightly.

The other was a slender man, dressed in a gray-blue heavy coat, with a chain directly extending from his throat, the other end connected to a huge jellyfish floating in mid-air. The jellyfish seemed to have no solid form, its body comprised entirely of drifting smoke, with a blood-red core inside that kept pulsating like a heart.

Black chains tethered to eerie creatures wreathed in black smoke.

Clearly, two eradicated heretics.

And these heretics were both looking shocked.

“Ah right, disguises,” Duncan muttered belatedly, then slowly stood from the coffin and carefully climbed down from the platform—his movements were slow because this body was not very agile, “Ah Dog seems to have the talent to disrupt recognition, helping symbiotes disguise their identities. So this is a common technique for you? But, to be frank, your disguising capabilities aren’t very reliable. I’ve never seen it go without a hitch…”

“Stop!” The female heretic finally reacted, she suddenly retreated several steps and then pointed at Duncan, her voice mixing with another low, hoarse voice as if another Caster was chanting a spell through her throat, “I strip you of your mobility, command you to stop right here!”

Duncan finally stepped off the platform and leisurely walked forward two steps, curiously looking at the woman nearby, “So, this is the so-called ‘spell’ borrowed from demons by the eradicated heretics?

“Well, to be fair, it’s indeed a bit more elegant than Sherry.

“But as it turns out, it seems less effective than Meteor Dog—at least that could give me a start.”