The Life of a Wise Cult Leader - Chapter 136

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 136

 

The axe used as a wall ornament had roses drawn on the handle.

 

As if to indicate it was decorative, golden vines were wrapped around the axe, faithfully reproducing even the thorns of the rose vines – if a civilian grabbed it carelessly, their palm would be riddled with holes.

 

Whether the Saint didn’t know this, or simply didn’t care.

 

Perhaps he was using some special ability – his palm looked perfectly fine and his expression didn’t seem pained at all. If anything, there was a subtle ecstasy visible in his expression.

 

‘As I thought, he’s definitely completely insane…’

 

My prediction was correct. The Saint was no ordinary person. Seeing a beast crouched low before hunting, everyone was desperately trying to protect the Saint…

 

As if such a guy could be pure and kind. If this kind of person is pure and kind, I’d believe that Crotal obeys his Commander’s words.

 

‘Even yesterday, the Sorceress and Inquisitor both treated the Saint like a child… Ridiculous fools.’

 

Whether they couldn’t see this guy’s true nature, or saw it but pretended not to know.

 

Thud, thud…

 

The Saint leisurely approached his target while holding the axe.

 

Though it was made to hang on walls, it seemed well-maintained as the blade was quite sharp. If an Adult Male struck down with force, it could easily shatter finger bones.

 

A neck… would probably take at least ten strikes to cut through without proper technique.

 

The one who had rolled and fallen beneath the chair was in a miserable state, as if the Saint’s claim of giving ‘punishment’ was true.

 

It was so horrible that even Tuba himself had rarely seen such a sight.

 

If this was the Saint’s ‘punishment’, then perhaps if he displeased the Saint, he too might be unable to resist and end up like that…

 

Objectively speaking, he had killed quite a few people and done plenty of bad deeds himself. By the Saint’s standards, he would be no different from that wretch.

 

‘Now I understand why Erendor cooperates so obediently…’

 

If he could use such abilities, it would be better for one’s safety to side with the Saint and cooperate obediently.

 

“Hey, Saint… What are you trying to do…?”

 

The Saint turned his head. Then, as if he couldn’t understand why this was being asked, he tilted his head slightly to the left.

 

Beneath the mysteriously colored veil, spider web-like white hair smoothly fell to the left side.

 

“You asked me to bring evidence, so I was going to send the head, which would be the best evidence.”

 

I thought it would be at most a finger, but he wants to cut off the head – whether he’s bold or just a clueless newborn pup.

 

Tuba deliberately gave advice because he didn’t want to see such a gruesome sight.

 

“If you cut with that… it won’t… cut well…”

 

It was a very roundabout request asking him to please use something else if he was going to do it. Tuba had rapidly grown sick of the Saint the moment he came here and saw that wretched state.

 

“Is that so?”

 

From his demeanor, he seemed like he would have cut people’s necks multiple times, but seeing him nod with such a clueless expression was rather eerie.

 

‘More than that… I can recognize his expressions.’

 

Even though the veil clearly covered his entire face, I could still discern subtle expressions.

 

“However, there’s nothing properly sharp available. Brother Tuba only has a dagger as auxiliary armament, and wouldn’t using a dagger be even more difficult?”

 

How did he even notice the auxiliary armament?

 

Tuba felt the illusion of his vision going dark. His head began to ache.

 

He couldn’t figure out what kind of person this was, but not figuring it out was also dangerous.

 

The goosebumps covering his entire body still hadn’t subsided.

 

“Don’t… carelessly mention other people’s… auxiliary armament…”

 

“I apologize.”

 

Tuba approached the target. He leaned his lower body against the large desk made of solid wood and gazed down blankly.

 

It wasn’t particularly pleasant to look at, so he hadn’t bothered before, but he needed to confirm how they had reduced the target to this near-death state. That way he could at least give a proper report to Boss. Unlike Crotal, who never did any work…

 

Meanwhile, the Saint was contemplating while looking at the axe. Tuba held back a sigh and pushed the desk.

 

Since the ‘target’ was half-draped over the desk, as it moved, the target’s head struck the wooden floor with a thud!

 

Blood seeped stickily into the well-maintained dark bronze wooden floor. That wooden deck would probably need to be completely replaced.

 

‘Hmm…’

 

First, the ‘target’… had bulging eyeballs.

 

The bloodshot eyes hung precariously in their sockets, as if they might roll out at any moment. This wasn’t from strangulation or pressure from blows. It looked like pure terror and something boiling up from within his body had pushed them outward.

 

His mouth was stretched open as if it might tear, and his jaw was dislocated at a grotesque angle.

 

And his front was soiled with filth – blood and unidentifiable flesh, along with fur from some unknown animal.

 

Whether he had eaten a rabbit alive and then vomited it up, Tuba didn’t want to know.

 

The expensive silk clothes were torn to shreds. The culprit was the ‘target’ himself.

 

His ten fingers were broken and bloodied, frozen in a position clutching his own abdomen.

 

The ‘target’s’ belly was… unnatural. It was swollen as if hundreds of hard pebbles or coins had been poured into a leather bag, with traces suggesting something had writhed inside.

 

His skin was beyond pale – spotted like old grain that had turned blue with age. But it wasn’t cold like a corpse.

 

Rather, it was faintly… boiling. As if his sins were rotting inside his body and generating heat.

 

This wasn’t death. It was the most vicious torture – capturing and stretching out the very process of dying.

 

Tuba felt goosebumps rise under his robe as he lifted his head. Even in this state, the target was still breathing.

 

“Kkheu…”

 

And the ‘Saint’ was positioning himself to figure out how to swing that ornamental axe to cut off its neck.

 

‘…Crazy bastard.’

 

He was sure he’d heard last time that the Saint turned people into wood while they were still alive. Turning them into wood would probably be cheaper.

 

“This one… just how many sins did he commit…?”

 

The Saint stopped the motion of bringing down the ornamental axe.

 

With the axe casually resting on his shoulder, he turned his head toward Tuba. The veil resembling the night sky swayed slightly.

 

“Are you asking how many sins this person committed?”

 

His voice was extremely calm and… ‘kind’. As if explaining an answer to a believer asking about difficult religious doctrine.

 

“Inciting famine, monopolizing supplies, 821 cases of indirect murder including ordering killings. 42 cases of human trafficking. As for sex crimes… if we include indirect involvement, it would exceed 1,000 cases. And if we add the sins committed through cooperation with the ‘Widow’… Hmm, do you want to know more?”

 

“Not really…”

 

“I see. That’s fortunate. Knowing more would only worsen Brother’s mood unnecessarily.”

 

Grin.

 

Then he brought down the axe.

 

Thwack.

 

Blood splattered in all directions. However, not a single drop of blood touched the Saint. Or rather, it was more like it touched him and then disappeared.

 

The Saint chopped away diligently with an expressionless face. Against a person’s neck.

 

“I have something to ask…”

 

“Yes.”

 

Bang!

 

The axe went off course and struck the floor. The Saint who had embedded the axe in the floor worked hard to tilt and pull it out, then arranged his hair. It must have been obstructing his vision.

 

“The Widow’s person… Is it okay to handle them like this…?”

 

“Yes. If the Widow investigates this death here, it would be no different from self-destruction. She won’t do it.”

 

Thunk!

 

Now the target was definitely dead. No breathing, no heartbeat could be heard. The neck was half-severed and dangling.

 

Not wanting to see the gruesome sight any longer, I just looked at the office window. Outside the blood-splattered window, oblivious people bustled energetically through the streets.

 

They wouldn’t know that the Saint they so followed, praised, and prayed to was here swinging an axe at someone’s neck.

 

“Then what about the vacancy left by this Merchant Guild Leader?”

 

“I know a Merchant Guild Leader. I’ll tell him to absorb this trading company as a subsidiary. If the Widow interferes… that would actually be fine. They’ll handle it themselves. Any trouble would be their loss.”

 

Tuba was convinced. Who would believe the Saint would do such things?

 

Especially Imperial Citizens who had faithfully believed all along would find it even more unbelievable.

 

Here was something like a ghost story that might happen in some rural mountain lodge.

 

Thunk! Crunch.

 

The shadows reflected in the glass window were eerie. Tuba couldn’t stand it and pulled out a cigar.

 

“This is quite difficult. Sister Yelena or Brother Erendor could have done this more cleanly. I’m sorry for showing you such an unseemly sight.”

 

“Now you’re… apologizing…?”

 

Himself pulling out a cigar from inside his robe and puffing on it, and the Saint in pure white clothes. Yet the one who had done the deed was the Saint, who looked harmlessly innocent, not like a criminal at all.

 

The cigar burned down. He held it appropriately in his mouth and exhaled smoke. Whether from the nicotine, his moderately settled mood improved.

 

When he turned around, the Saint was wrapping the hair of the dripping bloody head with his hand and lifting it up. Then he roughly surveyed the room, flipped over a box, shook out its contents, and stuffed the head inside.

 

Next, he pulled out drawers, gathered the ledgers, and put them in another box. Then he put the gems and valuables rolling on the floor into the box with the head.

 

“I didn’t know… the Saint would be in urgent need of… valuables.”

 

“Ah, these aren’t for me. They’re… gifts to enclose with the head. The Commander will need money to run an organization, so I’m giving these stolen goods as well. Is that alright?”

 

His thought process was different from ordinary criminals. He was a madman one level above Crotal.

 

“Now, let’s go, Brother. I’ve gathered all the evidence and necessary items.”

 

The Saint held out the box containing the head to me. Then he smiled from within his veil and said,

 

“Please deliver this well to the Commander.”

 

Handing over a box with a head like a holiday gift – it was absurd.

 

He reluctantly received the box.

 

It rattled as if the head was rolling around inside the box.

 

He had killed people and cleaned up the aftermath several times, but carrying something this grotesque didn’t feel good at all.

 

“You said you punish… according to sins…”

 

“Yes, that’s correct.”

 

“But with such useful and… convenient power… why didn’t you kill the Widow long ago…?”

 

The Saint was silent for a moment. He seemed to be pondering how to explain the reason.

 

“It’s simple. Because the Widow has a high ‘rank.'”

 

“Rank…?”

 

“Yes, Brother. My ‘punishment’ can only be delivered after ‘recognizing’ the weight of sin and ‘confirming’ its substance.”

 

The Saint said while looking out the blood-splattered window.

 

“This Merchant Guild Leader was just a lump of sin. Someone with no ‘defense’ whatsoever, just flesh covered in layers of sin. It was easy for my power to reach him.”

 

The Saint briefly set the box down on the table and surveyed the room. Blood stains gradually disappeared from the areas his gaze touched.

 

“But the Widow is different.”

 

The Saint turned his head toward him. The eyes beyond the veil seemed to pierce through his inner thoughts, making him feel utterly disgusted.

 

“She herself is surrounded by… or ‘protected’ by enormous power. It could be the authority she possesses, or perhaps the blessing of some other ‘something’ she believes in. If I try to directly peer into her sins with the power of ‘Punishment’ that I possess…”

 

The Saint opened and closed his hand. It was a hand without a single wound, despite gripping and swinging the handle of an axe adorned with golden thorns with all his might.

 

“My power will be repelled, or… a backlash I cannot handle will return to me.”

 

The Saint picked up a ring embedded with a large gem from under the chair.

 

“So, like pruning branches, when we cut off her limbs and she loses everything, becoming weakest. When that ‘status’ falls and she becomes an ordinary sinner.”

 

Step.

 

He walked toward him. A subtle pressure crushed Tuba like a tidal wave.

 

“That time will be… the day I deliver true ‘punishment’ to her.”

 

The glittering diamond ring was placed on top of the box he was holding.

 

“Now then, would this be enough to pass the ‘test’, Brother Tuba?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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