Detective Agency of the Bizarre
Chapter 764 - 764 283

764: 283.

However, the fate of the wounded earth had long been sealed.

764: 283.

However, the fate of the wounded earth had long been sealed.

“The Shadow of the Maiden attacked the lawyers and professors of Kande Classical City yesterday and early this morning.”

At the edge of the Old River Channel Plains, beneath the canopy of a withered acacia tree, Lu Li conversed with the merchant.

“Is that the code name of the new evil spirit?”

“Yes.”

“Kande Classical City, what’s the story there?”

Lu Li had never heard Anna mention it, nor had Anna ever been there,

perhaps it was a story set in Kande Classical City that had left a deep impression on Anna?

“170 years ago, Kande Classical City initiated a coup, separating from the Elorea Kingdom to become an independent city-state.

The coup was launched by seven members of the City-State Assembly Council—”

“Is there an impressive love story worthy of being written into a book?” Lu Li interrupted the merchant, as Anna was evidently uninterested in politics.

“…The Tragedy of Cloxi.” Perhaps no one had ever bought a love story from the merchant, causing a pause of over ten seconds.

“During the coup, a girl named Cloxi from the conservative faction was sent to the guillotine, executed by her lover.

In the end, the executioner, to spare his family trouble, killed his beloved, and then committed suicide at home that night.

It was written into ‘Tragedy of Cloxi’ 140 years ago.”

Perhaps that matches.

So Anna attacked the upper class of Kande Classical City—they were once the beneficiaries.

Parting ways with the merchant, Lu Li stepped into the wilderness known as the Plains.

The Old River Channel Plains was once the most abundantly watered land here.

If life in the desert is an oasis, then life in the Barren Lands is the Old River Channel Plains.

But as time passed, something happened, and the ice and snow of the Spine of the World Mountains stopped melting here, causing the Old River Channel Plains to slowly become a thing of the past.

Lu Li walked across the plains, surrounded by dried-up riverbeds.

Many villages and towns were marked on the parchment map of the Old River Channel Plains.

However, most have become abandoned after the arrival of the Third Disaster.

At least the village Lu Li passed through was empty.

Empty settlements were more unsettling than the wilderness; Lu Li chose to go around the village from the outskirts without entering.

Lu Li traversed the path, seeing uninhabited villages, a wolf pack passing a few miles away, an old-fashioned sailboat stranded on the riverbed, and some holes that defied understanding.

These were like wounds on the earth, not densely packed, but scattered everywhere on the plain.

Some holes were only fist-sized, while others were large enough to fit a house.

Unquestionably, none had a bottom, seeming to reach directly to the earth’s core.

Luckily, they were conspicuous enough not to be traps that devour the unprepared.

Yet these eerie, unsettling holes reminded Lu Li of an old story: the Barren Lands Nightmare Incident, the Bottomless Abyss.

That incident claimed thirty-two investigators’ lives, retiring seventeen.

But Lu Li didn’t feel the investigators’ described “irresistible urge to plunge in.”

Perhaps they were not the first Bottomless Abyss to appear, or perhaps Lu Li kept a safe distance, or his high humanity helped resist their allure.

In the afternoon, Lu Li paused briefly, pressing his dry, cracked lips together while gazing into the distance: a winding river flowed counter to the norm, from south to north, across the far land.

This river was introduced to address the Third Disaster.

The parchment map didn’t mark this new river; however, if it followed the path of the old channel—crossing the river and proceeding northeast less than 150 miles would lead Lu Li to his destination.

Moistening his mouth with the scant remainder of his water pouch, Lu Li continued onward.

Aside from the gentle breeze over the wilderness plains, the sound of flowing river water gradually grew louder in his ears.

An hour later, Lu Li reached the riverside.

The water flowed south to north, with the scent of moist sea breezes.

No need to scoop up the river water to know it’s salty.

Clang—clang—clang—

The evil spirit broadcast, more frequent than at first, reminded Lu Li.

Lu Li observed the river.

Less than fifty meters wide, the silty water obscured the bottom view, but the river channel was typically no more than ten meters deep.

He must cross the river to proceed; returning 150 miles upstream is nearly impossible.

Awaiting the departure of The Time of Silence, Lu Li started preparing for the crossing.

Four Spirit-Calling Guns were thrown across to reduce weight and likelihood of water damage—if they hadn’t broken on impact.

The straw doll and “lighthouse,” the oil lamp were wrapped in oiled cloth by Lu Li, kept close to avoid loss or failure due to unforeseen events.

The cloak was left on the shore.

Splash—

Plunging his hand into the river, the temperature was on the cool side; after reaching shore, he needed to dry his clothes immediately to avoid a drop in body temperature.

Sitting on the bank soaking in the river until his body adjusted to the temperature to prevent cramps, Lu Li dived into the water, swimming toward the opposite bank.

The water wasn’t overly swift, but its murkiness made underwater observation difficult.

Halfway across, something soft brushed Lu Li’s fingertips.

Raising his hand, he found no mud or anything else on it.

Lu Li quickened his strokes.

Suddenly, Lu Li was pulled underwater, as if something had dragged him down.

A few seconds later, a dull thud echoed from beneath the water, sending a splash a meter high.

Surfacing with gasps, Lu Li gripped the Spirit-Calling Gun, its bullets expended.

No time to seek the aggressor; he tossed the Spirit-Calling Gun underwater, continuing to swim towards the shore ten meters away.

This was not Lu Li’s domain; even the Doomsday Apocalypse amplified his power.

His only option was to hasten towards the bank.

Less than five meters from shore, he was suddenly pulled under again.

This time the pull came from the “lighthouse” in his left hand.

Lu Li squinted to observe, but the murky water betrayed no secrets.

He attempted to burn humanity, but its glow couldn’t pierce the oiled cloth.

Drawing his last Spirit-Calling Gun with his right hand, he pulled the trigger on the source of the force.

Nothing happened; the water-drenched Spirit-Calling Gun malfunctioned.

The force dragged Lu Li nearly to the river depths.

Reluctantly letting go of the “lighthouse,” Lu Li kicked free, inhaling the chilly air as he wetly crawled onto the bank.

Spitting out the briny water clogging his throat, Lu Li backed away from the riverbank.

The sand-mixed river water revealed nothing, as if nothing had occurred.

A light breeze passed, causing his soaked clothing to cling tightly to his body, stealing warmth away.

Lu Li stripped, wringing the clothes dry, then put them back on, crumpled, before gathering the four Spirit-Calling Guns scattered along the shore.

Unfortunately, they were all malfunctioning; more perilously, one had a barrel burst post-trigger pull, splitting the gun barrel non-uniformly like a trumpet.

His still-damp clothes sapped his body warmth, and many troubles awaited him: nightfall, the Mist of Strangeness, malfunctioning Spirit-Calling Guns.

Relative to these, hypothermia seemed trivial.

He should retreat, returning to a nearby town for repairs and supplies before setting out again.