Scarlet Descent
Ch. 100 - The Seventh Clergy

The sunlight grew increasingly pale, as if drying everything into a desiccated state. People moved more slowly, and vehicles stopped randomly on the side of the road, their occupants slumped over the steering wheels, brows furrowed in pain. Some grew impatient, pressing the horn, which blared loudly, jarring the fragile hearts of those nearby. Pedestrians on the sidewalk seemed to move like figures in an abstract oil painting, their shadows twisted and elongated.

Wei Wei walked down the main street, holding a silver handgun. He used it to slowly extract demon power from the surroundings, alleviating the suffering of those nearby. However, the gun’s power extraction was too slow. The city had thousands of streets like this, and Wei Wei could only move at this slow pace, feeling a massive sense of powerlessness. Even his crimson power seemed ineffective.
He could only do so little, but he had to keep going. Whenever he saw a little girl in a white dress recover from her lethargy, he felt a surge of joy. But looking up, he saw countless more girls in white dresses suffering, so he couldn’t stop. He continued walking, gun in hand.
The head hanging from his waist shook violently, questioning him loudly: “What’s the point of this?”
“Danger is approaching this weakened city.”
“You can’t truly save anyone; you’ll only put yourself at risk.”
Wei Wei replied softly, “I know…” but kept moving.
“Then why not leave?”
Wei Wei smiled under the goat-faced mask: “Why does it have to make sense? I just want to do this.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t know he could only save a few people, or that those he helped would eventually be affected again by the Plague Demon’s power. But when could he do what he wanted if he only did meaningful things? The head fell silent, its face filled with despair: “Madman…”
As people noticed the figure in the black raincoat and goat mask, they felt he was unreal, even linking him to the terrifying goat demon from media reports. However, those suffering from illness realized that being near him eased their pain, so more and more people followed him, keeping a safe distance.
Wei Wei turned to see a group of little girls in white dresses, who retreated in fear. He apologized and continued forward, more determined than ever. Sometimes, there was no room to retreat.
The pale sun rose higher, casting a suffocating atmosphere. The air was filled with maddening whispers, like needles piercing every pore. The streets were shrouded in a dizzying mist, and people’s sweat seemed to be squeezed out like water from a sponge. Every step felt uncertain, as if walking on cotton.
The crowd following Wei Wei grew, their minds perhaps the clearest in the city. They heard distant shouts and gunfire, which briefly broke the oppressive silence. Wei Wei stopped, looking forward. His vision was filled with little girls in white dresses, but then, a few unusual figures appeared.
A man in a black clergy robe with round glasses walked calmly forward, standing out among the sea of white dresses. Behind him were two rows of nuns in tight-fitting habits and armored vehicles with mercenaries, who looked fierce with guns and half-smoked cigarettes. Further back, a large group of shabby, terrified-looking people followed, their eyes gleaming with a mix of fear and fervor.
They were the Seventh Clergy, known for their unpredictable methods. The man at the front was the leader, and Wei Wei recognized the white ribbon bookmark in his hand. Captain Ouyang had often mentioned this group, speculating how they might attack Scrap Iron City. But no one expected them to enter so openly.
The leader stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed the panic behind Wei Wei. He ignored it and focused on Wei Wei: “Who are you?”
Wei Wei removed his mask, revealing his face, and smiled: “I’m Wei Wei, an intern peacekeeper of Scrap Iron City.”
“Did you release this plague?”
Wei Wei’s eyes narrowed at the leader’s calm response: “I need to enter the city to find something. Once I have it, I’ll retract the plague. If I’m quick, not many will die.”
Wei Wei’s face lit up with a radiant smile: “You admitted it?”
The leader frowned, seeming unwilling to waste time, and stepped forward. Wei Wei pulled out a black handgun, pointing both guns at him. The leader’s expression turned impatient, and his followers raised their guns as well. The civilians behind Wei Wei turned pale and fled in panic.
Wei Wei laughed, his smile growing wider: “You’ve admitted to planning the attack on Scrap Iron City and entering without permission. I need to take you in for questioning.”
The leader’s followers laughed louder, but he merely raised his hand: “Move aside.”
As he spoke, a torrent of maddening whispers enveloped them, accompanied by twisted faces that seemed to mock Wei Wei. His strength was already waning, and the crimson power was less than half its usual capacity. His legs felt weak, like noodles, and his body seemed to have a mind of its own, wanting only to lie down.
Despite his weakness, Wei Wei’s eyes gleamed with a fierce light. He had loaded his black handgun with Demon Hunter Bullets, Type 3—Red Angel. Using it at such close range could be fatal, but he decided to fire anyway.
Just as he was about to pull the trigger, the sound of a helicopter filled the air. The twisted faces around him began to fade, and the mocking voices were drowned out. Wei Wei released his grip on the trigger, looking up.
A figure jumped from the helicopter, descending rapidly towards the ground. It was an elderly man with white hair, wearing a silver windbreaker and sunglasses. He landed heavily, causing the ground to tremble.
“Little Wei, step back a bit!” the man said coldly, though his mouth twitched slightly, perhaps from the impact of landing.
The man facing them didn’t notice this, only hearing his proud voice: “You’re too weak to handle them. I, the leader of Scrap Iron City’s peacekeeping team, will take care of this.”

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